Se hoje a sua porta está fechada e seu copo meio cheio, sente-se ao meu lado e divida esta refeição com sua colunista. Abaixe a cabeça e chore o luto. No tempo que se fizer necessário, no seu tempo, no tempo que somente você saberá medir e dosar.
There are days which could be erased from the calendar. The disappointment caused by the end of a friendship, the sadness caused by the death of a dream, a fight we lost, the cake which burned, the dress that unstitched in the middle of the party, the engagement which got to an end and the lost faith in human beings.
There are days that could be elected national holidays. The friend who returns, the joy of the beginning of a dream, the fight we won, the cake that comes out fluffy, soft and warm from the oven; the dress which creates a Princess in a party; the engagement ring; the faith which we gain in God.
Life is full of surprises, it is a gift we want and we receive unintentionally. Secret Santa.
If today the door is closed and your glass is half full, sit beside me and share this meal with your columnist. Lower your head and cry of mourning, at the time it is needed, at your time, at the time you will be the only one to know how to measure and dose.
There is a time for everything, laughing and crying, winning and losing, finishing and restarting, hitting and missing, and there is a time to move on and not to look back.
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