With those words began long ago I wrote something, but the truth ... I stop halfway, 200 pages that go in the trash, not good and now that I reread, I decided to rewrite it.
So my first point again facet of my life, try to write a few lines every day to see if I can just reach in the 200 and finish.
It began:
It was a good day, best day all summer, soon the leaves on the trees are brown and red dye, soon to fall to the ground, but not that day, not while walking through the forest paths, while looking for old friends to remember the old epics.
Those stories that had always bowing and smiling, which made only a few seconds before remembering the dead and missing.