Ora che non ho più te

When your heart stops at a red light, but your soul is still pressing the gas. It's as if someone has gone off the road of feelings and is now speeding down the nite highway, looking for not a person, but a reflection in the rearview mirror. The city dims its lights so as not to disturb the last dance of two shadows who haven't been together for a long time, but still move in the same rhythm. The music ends, but the body, by inertia, continues to move toward where memory smells of gasoline and freedom. Love here is like a mirage in the asphalt haze: you almost touch it with your hand, but your fingers slide thru the air. And only speed prevents us from stopping completely.