"Far, far away, where the birch wouldn't grow
Far, far away and where the wind freezes your face
There you won't be alone
I would rather fly with eagles, to the snow hills
I would rather run with wolves, between the trees
I would rather be with trees, than in the middle of noisy streets
So far away, My mind flies to the moon
Far, far away, I can see what happens soon
And what's most important"
oczekując kolejnego dłużzego wypadu do lasu...
jak dobrze pójdzie to w sierpniu może tydzien w bieszczadach pod namiotem...
za tydzień woodstock...fajnie byłoby się tam znaleźć...
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time to changes...
many changes...
sorry for the past.... i promise, tomorrow i'll be better...