I’m not Carrie Bradshaw

     This is not New York and I’m not Carrie Bradshaw, although I would like. It is true that I don’t change places with anybody but I will do it to spend just one day in Carrie’s life, she is as my best friend. I will kill to stay some hours in her fabulous dressing room with Manolos, Louboutin, different styles of clutches, feather and lacy skirts, Dior dresses and everything that a fashion victim desires.

     It’s not only clothes; it is also the style of life. Luxury restaurants, chic cafes and the more original cocktails (certainly, Cosmopolitan is out of question). The night in New York seems to be the quieter of the world, plenty of neon lights, yellow taxis and glamorous people. The only thing that doesn’t convince me it’s the menu: I would be very hungry. Even though I am a salad-addict because I love them, these girls JUST eat salads. Where are the proteins? Those that are so necessary according to Dunkan diet.

     And, what’s about time?  Films seem to be timeless and nevertheless, my time is limited. I need more hours each day to do all the things I want to. The days go by so quickly that when night arrives and I watch the luminous clock on my right side I can see how the minutes run, not only the minutes, even the hours. Then, it is time to accept the evidence and leave everything: tomorrow I will start again my activity.