On Sundays always leave a trail of black and white, to have time to do anything and in many cases do absolutely nothing, just spend all day in bed sleeping and just get up to eat or go to the bathroom, going around in the mattress thinking of imaginary worlds and still unrealized stories, creating new theories about surprising facts or trying to discover crimes of the last century, reinventing endings, creating nostalgia and melancholy, on Sundays are usually dragged spend more slowly than any other day, if melancholy attacks you the day is endless, Sundays are a day to imagine and dream, imagine what are the adventures that my cat carries out when he leaves the house and returns after hours, will have some gang, another family, will cross to another dimension, on Sundays without a doubt they are the Chaplin of the week, they take us from one point to another in the same day, from the joy to the sadness
