"My name is Timo, as the spice. I was born in the South small eyes and strong arms. You need me? "Was how
Timo appeared daily to all the people of the country. People who already knew a long time. But Timo said that when you meet someone, it must immediately clarify who you are and what you are willing to give. Timo was a good man. Timo was friendly and always ready to lend a hand. Timo was gentle, moody, sweet. Timo was disappointed, for some reason. He had lost his mind at the age of twenty. Nobody really knew how things were going and what was the initial cause of that madness. His family had done everything for him, but aware Timo would never follow their advice, they moved quickly to another city to the shame of not being able to save their son. Those who knew Timothy was a child, said it was "normal" and adorable. Characteristics that ultimately were never changed. Timo continued to be a lovely person, but people still struggling to see it as normal. And if the country had initially sympathized with tears and her story, now did nothing but mock him. The people ... the same people who did help him to bring the expenditure at home and do small chores. Those people still could not understand that Timo was a key figure in that place. A presence that you can not do without. Its image turn anything into a landscape to observe. Its presence collecting and keeping a history of which had quietly across the country, lakes, mountains. There was everything in his footsteps and in his voice. There was a man, there's innocence, there was happiness and pain. There was something to peer, there was to learn and remember. Timo
lived in the house left by his parents, a large villa, now widely considered to be a shack. All had been abandoned, no one took care of anything. Timo had failed to remove doors and windows, careless of wind, cold and the rain that often hung over him and his home. He was concerned and worried only of its walls. Who was able to come close from a distance and look around what Timothy did, he saw words painted in red. Soft words, infinite, so that all the walls of his house seemed to be unable to contain them. They were words full of poetry, a poetry red fire, dedicated to a woman. The love of Timo. A love lost, imagined, perhaps never existed, perhaps dead. Nobody seemed to know, no one seemed to remember any woman next to Timo, but something seemed to have really existed and his eager hands to write that red, I had the test. Time passed and Timo had aged along with its country and its people enjoyed that fewer and fewer of those landscapes that Timo was able to create with his presence between the people and countryside. Timo was locked in his house for some time and now as never before, made sure that no one approaches him. But someone said it was able to see him, he found that the more battered than usual and was smeared with paint from head to toe. Someone had seen him smile, someone heard him sing, but everyone started to worry about really, miss him, began to understand that the little history of that small country was Timo and they could not help it. But one morning the villagers found an answer to his questions, and yet another image to be observed. It was already dawn and the early morning, still allowed a fatigue crack those written in homes, churches and trees were invaded. The country was stained red. Everything, every detail had been the target of an inscription of love. Soon everyone went out to see what had happened. Someone even found a heart drawn on his pajamas, others a bit 'of paint on his face. The phrases and words seemed to have a bumpy path. "Love you're so far away and set your eyes I smell your steps do not cry to me now no one listens to the hot sun will not burn you forever beautiful you we fear tomorrow stinger is still waiting for your breath I love you, my ".
People's eyes devoured, curious, hungry and in love, that path created by Timo. Their steps were slow and still asleep, but for the first time along the road of the history of Timo, through trees, rocks, animals, wires, street lamps. There seemed to be more space, seemed another world. When they reached the end of the path, some people took the hand, others stepped back, trying to stop someone smiled sadly to himself, that last landscape that the presence of Timo had created. He seemed to see him smile again as his body donated to the river where he had fallen, which could hold all the red .. a redder red .. a red blood, flesh, heart exploded .. writer's infinite words and a gentle love that will reach the sea and will never stop.
morning I decided it was time to assert itself in stages with a fine double 
: 
