I left my heart in San Francisco. I know what people say about it – it’s childish, it’s impossible, some of them even ask – how could you leave something in California if you have never been outside of your own country? I used to say something in return to them, but these times are gone.
Now I only look back and think – you can say whatever you want, you will not understand me anyways.
But still, how could I…? I don’t know. I only know that I truly belong to San Francisco and someday I’ll walk in it’s streets, someday I’ll breathe it’s air full of sunshine and dreams, someday I’ll stay somewhereclose up to the Golden Gate Bridge – and the desperate restless wind will play with my hair. Someday I’ll wake up in it’s sleepy sunrise and will devour it’s morning cold air like I have
Never really breathed before. no matter how far away I live from there, I still felt as if my
Everytime I wake up, I feel the taste of my dream on my lips, even rain that is slapping on the ground plays the melody of my dream. When I feel the gentle touch of wind on my skin, it’s like it’s whispering to me, whispering the words I have always known. What is the real Dream, after all? Dream is something that always here for you, Dream is something
That inspiresyou and gives you strength.
I am alive by my dream. Whenever I feel pain, whenever the great amount of sadness rests on my shoulders, I call out my dream. And it comes, it comes to comfort me, it brings the great amount of happiness and sunshine. It’s the inner strength of me, and I am absolutely sure – someday this dream will become my reality, someday I’ll live it out.
But sometimes I can almost feel it, like it’s not in my mind only. Sometimes I walk through the streets of my own dreary city, and it seems like I can almost feel the salty scent of the ocean and the soft sand that is caressing my bare foot… and I begin to walk even more slowly not to scare my dream away… I only want it to stay a little bit longer.