pasta 1

The first shot I kept about the America, was the wind with the cold that belong to a night of the autumn. That was about 2:16 P.M., August 16th. My aunt came and pick me up, it's a different smell I feeled in her car, I thought it might not be really the special smell, but just that kind of fresh mood made me felled everything around was filled with freshness. I have been thought about to write something long time ago, but I finally started tonight. Afternoon when I was sitting in Taca Bell, I remebbered last time I wrote someting here was about some Chinese writing, pragraphs for discontent, home-miss emotion and, and just used to do that. Always. Writing and painting are two things I used to do. thourgh the windows of Taco Bell, there is the Lawrence Expy lay in front. Everytime I'd like to sit inside of the restraurant and look the cars, the house outside. Of course, with a big cherry pepsi.

The traffic is busy in the end-afternoon and the house is compeletly different to my country. Most of the house are made of wood, and amount of the citizens have there own house, and the houses are low as 1 floor, at most 2 floor, normarly. Unlike China, citizens mostly live in the apartment, but, Oh, yeah, that's the population queation. Now I'm set in one of thoses wood-house with my host family. That make me feel very much so enormous contrast, that relationship betwwen generations. I mean perarents and kids.