Bye, my old friend

My exchange year is almost over. A month, 31 days, are the count down that start tonight. I already suffer when the first friend left in December, I can’t even imagine the pain of been separate from the people I love. Before I came here I was afraid of love this place too much, and… Continue reading Bye, my old friend


Because for Americans a young boy of eighteen years is old enough to be send to a battlefield, ready to die or been disabled, but not old enough to drink alcohol. Love the logic in this country.