-Where am I supposed to start looking for it?
-Don't worry about that. You don't need to look for it.
-You mean it will find me?!
-Yes.
-and how will I know that it's it?!
-You just will.

It's very cold outside today, one of those days when you think about making love and you end up wrtting political essays.
One of those cloudy days when you feel the world is swallowing you slowly and you can only think about kissing lips and warm embraces but you end up referencing journals.
One of those days that you wouldn't think you're gonna end up crying of happiness with a smile plastered on your face.

All I wanted was to sing the saddest song  
And if would sing along 
Oh if you would sing along 
If you'd only sing along I will be happier

little story

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, a wide, almost never ending cold land where horses plow the fields, vodka runs from the sink taps instead of water and gipsies travel in caravans and build palaces from stolen gold and benefits received for not taxing any stolen source of income, lived a little bitchy princess called Countess Veronica. Countess Veronica had everything a little bitch could possibly want: a mighty fine permanently kissed ass, elitist friends and mentors, sex with yoga instructors, 70 p coffee bearing her own name in prestigious and elitist coffee shops and all the maids and babysitters and servants a princess could need or dream about. But Countess Veronica was never truly happy. Many blamed it on the fact that she was always a spoiled little brat, some said she was a becoming strong independent bitch just like her mother.
  Some said the witches cursed her at her birth to forever have a mental illness( sugarcoat for being fucked up) and that was the cause of her unhappiness, some said her father the famous, feared, bear-bellied Colonel was the source of her unhappiness, some said she was half goddess, but being only half goddess she was forever banned from the land of the gods and cursed to live amongst the mortals, where she would never feel truly at home.
Be it as it may, the countess was used to having everything and filling the emptiness of her existence with alcohol,high dosages of medically prescribed magical herbs and blowing golden money that she wasn't making or deserving. like any child of the gods, she was blessed with a bohemian figure, and the power to bullshit any mortal alive or dead. she was nonetheless what they would call-AN ARTIST. so the countess was even more so getting her way in the world, but she was still unhappy.
somehow she needed to fill an emptiness,some even believed it was a curse her believed father, the colonel, placed upon her since the day she was born. so she filled that space with a magical potion called adrenaline that she required from the evilest of witches: potions, motorised contraptions that could climb mountains and bumpy hills, long ropes swinging off bridges and all sorts of magical witchcraft . being as it is, adrenaline makes things escalat quickly so the little countess veronica found herself being climbed up a tall horse and sent away from the land of cheap construction, vodka and prostitutes posing as russian brides on dodgy websites. before she left, her servants and maids and babysitters who all loved her ass for being mighty fine and lovable told her that she would no longer be rich or bohemian or even a countess! she wouldn't even be Veronica anymore!
and so little countess veronica became Ana. Ana traveled for miles and miles and 3 whole hours it took her to get to the promised Westlands....the Westlands were like nothing the countess ever encountered, water ran from the taps, people actually queued up in actual lines to purchase what they wanted, no one spat on the streets, people drank to get drunk, prostitutes were hidden were you least expected and none were on display on the highway and the only gipsies you could find were called Indians in the Westlands. even more striking to Ana was that no one ever heard of the spirit and the mind, of feeding and heeling them. Rich, promising and hypocritical, the Westlanders build there economical supremacy on being idiots. they didn't read, they were uncultured, they lacked even the most basic skills and they believed they could die if they eat non-organic, not fair-trade chicken.
they made fools of themselves and blamed it all on the 'magical ' powers of alcohol-which are obviously far too well known to the eatlanders. they lied to others and themselves to save appearance and never even heard of Vivaldi. But the strangest thing about the westlanders was that they said sorry if you stepped on their toes! and that was supposed to a sign for you to say sorry back.....
 Ana didn't really understand the westlanders...but she was brought up not to walk naked through other's people's houses even she was brought up to do so in her own so the half-goddess learned to tolerate the westlanders, with eastlander aristocratic supremacy and a bad taste of disgust in her mouth, like the one you get after throwing up.