There is not greater joy in this world, that painting next to the love of your life, the fourth destined for your future first child. Tinkering a little here and there and a little there with the paint, giving kisses those that can only be given to the embrace the back, receive those kisses that can only be received on the put it on tiptoe, talk about how they met, and discuss the last points on the name of the future child; They are part of a ritual unwritten fills the soul, It is one of those moments where life has a better taste. But, especially, It is fleeting.
Who told us that life is not cruel?
Surely that liar, He did not have to paint the same room with gray paint, erasing with every brushstroke happiness one day he lived, with every brushstroke erasing the memory of a son who no longer come, a mother will no longer be the same. Obliterating gray paint, for the fourth re-match the color of the house, again match the color of the soul.