I’ve been writing a lot about how I feel towards certain things. It sounds a little bit abstract sometimes, not talking precisely about it. I haven’t done it because I’m afraid there is not space nor words enough to write all the things that happened during my semester abroad. That’s the problem, you know, once your “erasmus” semester is over: what to do with all the memories? Being a writer, of course that the only thing I can do with them is just…write them down. Slowly, piece by piece, memory by memory. Anyway, this is just another short version of a very long story.
Six days ago, I came back to my home university campus. The last time I was there was seven months ago: it was still winter, and the trees were completely empty. Sitting on the grass was not a possibility, and I was probably wearing 3 layers of clothes. I was a different person seven months ago. I wasn’t sure how the new Sammy was going to react after everything I’ve been through (lots of things that I will tell later on, I guess).