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And while the world explodes

The streets in front of him exploded. He saw the thick smoke surrounding the shooting and could hardly follow a path that he knew where he went. He took off the gloves and repeated by heart the two songs she knew. All were sung during the march and the immense rise of gunpowder reminded him of the front. Good memories. The friends who were racing vulgar, pornographic magazines loans, purchases of trust that a man can do only when life is at stake and death lurks. He continued his journey through the center. The sky was clearing up. Midnight had gone from a little 'and the toasts were already less frequent. We celebrated a year that was not yet known. As he recalled that walk with the years he knew. Every New Year he liked to stay out while everything was destroyed. Those explosions were the return to war. It gave him the sense of things unsaid, things that could have said, friends who could leave in a different way and those that would be closer. Every new year going back there. At his guerrra. The expedition failed for everyone. But not for him. That he could not go. A fever can save you and condemn you to talk with your friends only in the midnight when the world explodes and you would say that is not needed. So that they are still there. That these arguments were the way to get under each other. And even then the weather changes. Nobody is shooting more and finally come out of that cloud. Lay a flower, like every year, the officer in front of the house. As a reminder that to flourish is just the life you have had the courage to cultivate. Despite everything. Then go home. By his nephew in which he explained that the war is every day. That nobody has to fight for you, but you have someone to do it with you. Will you like about them. Of all of them. When there were, and gave you advice, and we kept joking with you that you were there. With them. Your nephew will understand very well. E'intelligente and loves to hear you talk about the friends you lost. In the only war that you could not fight. The body was theirs. The blood was yours. But say that you have lost, they are still here. That love does not end the war. Because there is a war that can kill a friendship. No war is stronger than us. Semper fidelis.

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"I understand that when I enter as a diver in myself at that moment the people are mixed fast and thoughts in my head and I lose my sense of myself and of others and feel that we are all also something else, which is often not We are where we are, we do not speak the voice we have, we do not understand what we do or understand it deeply meglio.Questo I think, as I lean my head on his left hand, lost inside myself, in a dark corner of a church. And the machine off I can not see them, but they are a long trail of light almost infinite "(Emanuele Kraushaar)

The search for the lost time is served to you? Or are we to the point of first? The same as we did in the story of crucibles who did what and who did what in a vain attempt to label anyone depending on what we are. E 'diversity problem. We are not xenophobic to foreigners but with those who are not part of our mental system, with those who are not part of what we think is a behavior to stay, food to eat, to profess an idea. We are inseparable from the usual enemies and the only way is born. Yes, because, beyond the fact that if we look well to each other odieremmo us all, just keep it locked when it rolls out the language and thinking good words to say. What are the support for civil society and honest, that the world no longer need walls to define spaces. This will only be possible when there are no more spaces, when the individual and the community will be time for us will be the time for others. The hypothesis is too far for us to give you an immediate possibility. But in the meantime should believe it and try to bring down the small walls to divide us that we create every day from those who know, from those who do not know ourselves and do not always want to know. There is no need to talk about ourselves and others, but to us it is enough. Without plural nous, without labels, without conscience clean and that there are just bored. We are all in the same mud. To just stay there to fight, to get out enough to help. The walls fall down, then. But beware. It is not enough. I walls are crumbling but the people. And those should not have been toppled because they are not made of bricks. They are like us. Although now I do not know.

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water to my mill

guard the wind to push it in times of poor transport.

I will keep in mind the sun when the fog will fall on the mountains that surround me.

will break the time to be able to share with my brothers away.

will grow not only in the size of my wallet.

I will live the rest of what I can and will experience no bad thoughts will make their way through the daily routine of washing, pulp and cooking lessons to explain.

I'll be a proud Southerner who speaks well of his home in Naples and Campania to the north and down when he returns to criticize a time came to South

discard my fears that perhaps as many gifts are not always nice, but you are an adult and complains only those who are only ever fallen out of bed for home.

'll breathe the air here and see the world differently through the filter of purity and innocence.

'll be back. Sooner or later. But only to start again. The brothers greet them every time. But with the calm consciousness of those who know the brothers, the real ones, are never far away.

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keys blacks


Nadia

rested his fingers through his meeting places. Try to feel the sensation on the skin of the border and kept for himself the peace he derived from being in the middle. In the middle of a path where he could meet all the necessary without any opposition yet, for her, so illogical. Nadia was afraid that nobody will listen. All taken from the piano that held up his hands and no one able to listen to her footsteps as she reached the instrument. No one expected that she found in its harmonies. No one expected that his life like waiting for her music. She only knew. He knew that if they had come, would come together.

Luke loved his notes, he loved her. In the front row along with other friends, could hear the sounds passing over the score and only came to him. Try to keep your eyes closed to be near her. But it was so beautiful that it was difficult for him to be careful. When he could not. When he could not look at her hair that moved rhythmically with the rest of the body, when finally averted his eyes from those eyes, those lips, that nose ... When you stop looking at her, then finally saw it. All

there. At his concert. Because their friends will follow. I am your conscience. Your tender bond to the storm from which you would not know never quit. Why will not you. Why, after all, surrounded by mirrors that deform is an urgent need to know who hates who he is. People are all equal. His friends do not. Friends are not people. The syllogism of a defeat that Nadia had accepted. Not everyone can understand. But those few who can must be between a key and another. They should listen to the sound of all your keys. Even for those blacks.

there. Next to strangers who pretend to know. Along with 'Good morning' and 'Good evening' à la those reminders. Others exist. There is only you. But is she the only one that counts. The only one that truly care about. The only music is that it sounds. The only flower that does not wither, not because it has never grown but because it never existed.

The stars looked out the windows of the theater. The sky was attentive. As if it was just pressing buttons and strings rub. Nadia ended with a series invented. A verse that came out of his seat because he did not have any other company did. The only line that matters is what comes to you. The spoken word in your silence. And if I were not the only one who listens?

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Alba

The soul is that which provides the remaining piece of soul left, tells her that the will, but, after all, is happy because from now on we will live in a better place.

A large piece of our soul we left it in Scotland. Free to wander between the close of which run parallel to Edinburgh Royal Mile and happy to fall in the thousands of holes at St. Andrews in the certainty that someone will collect on the North Sea to bring it to breathe air that smells of nature and learning, sacred and profane (as if the two were inseparable). That piece of our soul is still there, lucky man, to clear glasses and glasses of Mac Callan that gets you back to life, to look at the Hamish seems to be indifferent to everything but her constant rumen, enjoying the street artists victims of a collective madness that finds its way into the beauty of light that cuts through the darkness without trying to enlighten you.
souls remained in Pomigliano, Mariglianella, Brusciano, Tanker, Grottolella, Fourth, would love to go to find the soul who decided to stay there in the immensity without the embarrassment of a boundary of the Highlands. Where the heart is breathing and is not an enormous effort to get out of the chest cavity to scream to the world: I'm alive and it's beautiful. E'bellissimo be here holding hands and the infinite, to know that at some point what you are expands the unthinkable and there is nothing that can hurt you. Why do you belong to that green worm, those rocks were born from the blood and courage, that portion of land that becomes the whole world for you. Hang on to that air, air to Scotland, is the only way to touch the sky. For real.
Where has the soul that listened to the boiling point of the bagpipes, peering amid the Gothic recesses in search of friendly ghosts, who tried to revive the clan of companies who did not know the word fear, which made its way in the meadow Murrayfield in search of triumphs and was happy to be in the best place with the best? Our soul is still there. In a Sunrise that will shine forever. Until you believe in us. Until you believe in freedom.

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Those between stage and reality

"What season of the heart is this where you are running to the rescue of forgotten years, pretending to have them heard cry for help? "(Baricco, this story).

some lives should be relived again. Perhaps reliving a moment lost in the crowd of how it was. Maybe trying to check to be turned off in those moments were we or our brain.

Some lights do not shine enough and would like to check them, see if there's something about you in that fraction of look that you lit up the life or at least has freed you from the shadows in which stagnated for some time. Looking be careful, try to look inside other people, but too much light blinds.

Some dreams you live them, even if they turn into nightmares. Why does not mean that you should always be well, that the liver must be intact throughout life, that you should say something intelligent, if there is something intelligent to say.

Some people have to understand them. It is not their fault that Walt Disney invented them and then threw them in the real world. They face a world that does not look like Mickey Mouse and to try not to go crazy. The neuron that sometimes accompanies them back to life, exchange a square root for a truth, first twins to think such a cheerful thing, says giving up alcohol in hand with another cup of sangria and, meanwhile, cut with puns continue the monotony of aphasia esterrefazione head of mourning that accompanies us. Some hugs

you'll miss them. So, better not to think about and understand that friends are always there even when I'm by your side and the beautiful moments of the past are nothing more than a promise that the future will hold.

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"I love you" by Stefano Benni


I love you and if you do not just steal the stars into heaven


to make garland and the empty sky
not complain of what he lost
your beauty alone will fill the
' universe


I love you and if not enough
will drain the sea and all the pearls come before you to bring

and the sea will not cry for this snub

that a thousand waves, and no sirens
the magic of one of thine eyes


and I love you if you do not just lift up
volcanoes and their fire
put in your hands, and ice will burn for


of my passions and I love you
if not enough

also the clouds catch you and bring you the
tamed and will rain down on you
summer when the heat And if you do not sleep

because not enough time to stop
'll stop the planets in flight
and if you do not just fuck

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Look back and see that you start something, you must leave, saying that there is an alpha and it's worth believe it is worth. A starting point that makes us think of doing something and that something will obtain

from other starting points that lead us forward without fighting back. What happens then, ending up back, and then you feel like the protagonist of a song by tiziano ferro that if you understood what you said maybe we would end too. But the important thing is to understand that until we have a purpose for us there will never be an end. As long withstand the weight of what we are and try to understand those around us, maybe we'll come back. Perhaps, we can not be swallowed up in our past, not to end up in those dead-ends of each hidden embarrassment that would be worth as much light each with a moment of growth. Why was not out of place if you are not in other places. Let's try to define us for who we are when we are alone and nothing belongs to us. We are not the mirror where the rest of the world needs to see bigger. We are a means of comparison, the possibility of personality with which all must be reckoned with. And the summer will be the litmus test, as always. It is the season where we expect something more, the time when you want to slag a year, became the gold circle in the mouth every morning. But now is the time to look ahead, because it is behind the excuse of those who are preparing to lose. We want to win. So full speed ahead and we hope that there is too much tomorrow to aim to run the risk of looking back.

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Back Memories of egotism

"It's me, with no irony, no sorrow, glad I did not even feel contentment, to be less present to myself that the place where I am, so who else does not want or knows what else may not have, so just want to have that was his, that is, all "(J. Saramago, The Year of the Death of Ricardo Reis).

Academically dementia. First time to grow, which has not yet arrived. And this is self-evident. At least we just know that dreaming is still allowed us to have the arrogance, all human to dream big and get lost in the botched redevelopment of our neurons in a continuous bouncing UP AND DOWN decibel that alternate between a hedgehog and a Jew. We are not able to figure out now if the future perfect will remember us, seeing that he enjoys coming to see us defeated also to Dr. why. But what matters is to understand that those responsible for us and nobody else. The stories of the rotten society, the chairman of the idiot and pedophile, nepotism rampant with up to a certain extent. Never complain! Better think over the next hour, the twenty-fifth, one in which we will know which way to turn because I really do not know why but it unwise at this point to take a direction, one that we think is ours, one that will be worth it bleed sweat (sweat or blood). There any certainty? Sure. WE WANT GOOD FAMILY Albarosa. Then the idea that a Panuozzo can grow well in Cisterna, the Gobi Desert, where there would be a counterpart and the course is so named because he's wanted to leave in a hurry. But we are still to want, very strongly want. Beyond what we have, what we have not and what we will never have ... we are beyond the surface of the vulgar materialism of this unspeakable reality. Yes, because if there's one thing I realized is that nothing stays the way it is if you try to change it, if you say that a qualification can be given to the world then it is more likely to become a reality here in Curitiba. While the waves crash on a drunk monkey, dressed for a Brazilian way of saying we need a glass of Caipirinha and the ninetieth reminds us with his smile with our desire to change the world, we can only change ourselves. It is no small thing.

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... see you soon ... and we'll speak better ...

... sometimes it happens that we come across events (in qalche way bigger than us) that force us to think in a different way ... spex show you the truth Axolute, Qasi trivial, but we are not able to read ... and then all of Axum has a different meaning and flavor bittersweet awareness but had not sought ... so you find yourself in oxervare qello that no longer exists, and that was just before that I had not given the importance necexaria think ... sull'impareggiabile selfishness that characterizes your banalixima life and you know that the phrase "but it's my life" does not save you from self-criticism spex ... we are far from reality ... we are not on the piece ... I do not think that we live and even take care ... in an increasingly mediated ... but nexuno average nx feelings and we are not able to handle it ... we were a few moments ago ... qi as it did this? why do not we shed tears? nx qando the sensitivity has become chronic insensitivity? we will be forced to live like this forever? with a shield of misogyny and a certain contempt for life and for nx qella others? and we are always with us ... please ... i nx nx nx complaints about the defects ... ... aspirations ... and the nx nx want to make a difference ... but for whom? Stex for us? for others? for the image that will give us the company or qella that we want to leave to posterity? we are ready for anything ... we are in poxibilità to choose everything and we prefer alternatives that we have a thousand compared to paxato ... but we are not able to mentalizing (or do it too) we are not able to live well because they always necexitiamo qalcosa of that in the end we do not need just because it's on naked ... qesto is the period of time must qesto exere contraxegnato ... do not do that running frantically looking but what then? we surround ourselves with people who protect us but protect us from us nexuno Stex nx cowardice ... and ... just get up and do it ...

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Metaphysics of the tubes

"What look?" It's something indescribable. No word expresses, even remotely, its strange essence. But look there. There are few who actually have this level of existence. What's the difference exists between the eyes that have a look and eyes that do not have them? This difference has a name: we call life. Life begins where begins gaze. In the beginning God did not look. That is why, at this stage of growth, God will call the tube. There is a metaphysics of the tubes. Slawomir Mrozek wrote that the tubes are extraordinary mixture of full and empty, are hollow material, a membrane that covers a bundle of existence of nothingness. The hose is the spring version of the tube. God had the flexibility of the latter and at the same time lay rigid and inert, thus confirming the nature of the tube. Experienced the absolute serenity of the cylinder. Filtered through the universe and do not hold nothing "(Amelie Nothomb, Metaphysics of the tubes).

A little 'patience again and remember that our shadow to follow. Although there is always the intention to sow it, the desire to stop listening to anything other than what we have already heard and dive into the hole of the full existence. We learn a bit 'of us every time we contradict. I just have time to label someone as a friend to the cock crows three times and we are already on the cross. We think that our truth is truer than the others and in turn comes when the Pharisee who mocks our illusions because truth is the only one who does not know you had. Let us pause a moment to find words, to believe that others are variable, a mathematical constant that we are one of the elements and not the result. There are two theories. A religious waiting for someone to come and save us from something, sooner or later, someone or ourselves. The other science, we are the architects of the successes and convictions that we have to serve. Before selecting a proposal: why not add up? Take the hope of rebirth from the first and second the courage to meet her. We touch a pre-universe god but God in the background, a way of opening ourselves to the metaphysical with the math book under his arm. Dust and dust we shall return. But before we collect the great street sweeper, a bit 'of life for pleasure. The revival is not to be expected after life, but pursued throughout life. Every day, not after three days. It's worth having faith in a world where humanist to turn the light on us. The light itself is us.

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I need air. I feel like I qcuno themselves while holding their heads under water. which happens in games or children of 6 anni.dispettosi.oppure Bnei film horror.ma I do not talk about the film please. not at this time. sometimes I get the impression that Truman right to stay in theme to do me a whisker. I could tell you different. but I miss the air over the well time.For aCasa a fortune to stay there if I was missing too lho space did broom. in short, even if it no longer sometimes fails and basta.e the shoes are hanging from the grain chiodo.to be continued

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Ghosts

A little 'space please. Space between spaces, hidden from view so you do not know where to find me. The problems addressed are those that scare us at the beginning and then it was a gentle descent. But now? Now if you're not careful the friends you have are those of facebook and the enemies are the ones that eventually lead us roses. Now that the love is hard to live because you spend your time to calculate the consequences while the function of the whole equation escapes you. Now that all this can not address it because it is still a fantasy that revolves around you. Now what will you do? I'll try to think that there is a patch of sky in which to park the remains of our memories. Kill invaders one after the other because their world must defend to the end even at the cost of defending the desert. And then flee, even if changing the order of its parts ... Everything around us is keeping him until we question. Deconstructing must be the watchword. All that will survive the stripping I am planning will be worthy of being kept close to me until the end. And 'what resists to be really important. If I could think beyond the ephemeral moment of dissatisfaction that I feel I could do with my life an anomaly of the system, the moon makes it like a stain. Gray area bathed in light, shining moment of darkness who knows its own truth. What is important is to think of being light even when you're a lesser light. Today I know and expect answers from the same stars that now I do not know what to say. Sooner or later this will be a sky in which it is worthwhile to shine and the miracle begins.

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memorial graffity

... The year was 1964 and in qella extraordinary forest of corn, in a vast field where even the sun could do was set him, only with the defects did not want ... and its impairments afflicted him without his mostraxe signs in his face ... he was careful to show a warm appearance that ultimately ended up deceiving himself and qel respect others showed him he did not know Foxe whether fear or love ... I do not see well and sometimes not even heard but never shows clearly qesto his "failings" but did not know which way qalche was rewriting its entire history from the origin and do not really even wanted it .. . but it was written, so it was done ... nexuno understand the extraordinary affection the qale took care of its objects ... it was as if he servixe qalche way to project onto them all that they could not elsewhere ... and just in qel Axolute day as the sun emitted its last pale qel moan ... just in time to dispense with the clouds seemed to lack a criminal ... a wound qale never would recover from the ... night did not lead the board and it was like Foxe was surrounded by a dream that dull the reality to the point of not really understand what Foxe Foxe's true and what hand the projection of his mind ... he was known by all ... and many were known only in dreams ... so many speculations sinking blows up qella that was the legend of his life ... that of legendary had very little ... you really trust to be surrounded by people but could not help but exere subject to continuous discharge of responsibility by those who had not the poxibilità to stand by him ... ... the rest were too distracted by the pettiness of qotidiano ... shortly thereafter he vixuto qalcosa it would mark the soul and not let themselves go ... would have stayed there in qel wheat field was awaited with great ... anxiety that the night cedex Paxoi all'incalzare dawn of the day ... a generous and warm that would mark only a new day where everything was like before ... where would cmq unless the clouds and the sun would have seen there qello with new eyes that had always had before ... just ... sitting ... but not tired ... and capable employee ... ... ... did not feel like he did not want to have ... they do not wanted to know ... there was just an old train to catch ... and a flap to hide under his gaze turned to the holster ... it was just time to wait ... and remained there the whole time of the night ...

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"Too often the words are used, handled, turned over, exposing the powder road. The words we seek hang by the tree, we find with the dawn, sweet as the leaves "(V. Woolf, Jacob's Room).


There was once a wandering horse, who died in Tunisia Aversa, but before he died he dreamed his life better than it had lived. Then he awoke and found himself in a black hole and what they did not know, I could sing, though it was out of tune. Then came a shepherd who was looking for a star and began to jump on one foot amputee. Even with one foot created an acrobatic dance, but graceful. It was time to sleep, to get back to basics, to understand why and make thirty-three. He began to shout: "Extraterrestrial me away! ". His name was in the spring.

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I want to throw down upwards .....

"... like most people, whether you call love, the desire to possess. Owning and belong to anyone. Falling in love [...] anyone can do. But love is something else. Nell ' we love a person can also be a time of falling in love, but it is said that when you're in love you really love each other. [...] Have you ever thought that it means to truly love a person even rejoice in his happiness elsewhere. you want to be her happiness, because it's nice to be important to someone. I want to give damage to her happiness that you can not give yourself. Or I hope you can make you happy, this responsibility and she will eventually let you down. Feel they have lost time. [...] I do not agree when the couple becomes a way to escape from their lives or the responsibility to themselves. It should not esssere a painkiller, so why not heal the wound, anesthetized for a while 'so we do not think you're better and in the meantime. Only after that does not effect, and then you fall in love with her and another of another. [...] Do you remember that what we had studied in school on Plato, the story of half an apple that has to find the other half? [...] As a half meeting with the other we will find happiness and to become one [...] but the other half to find a woman [...]: is not always you. And 'the other half of you, the unknown part of which you have to give life, to be able finally to meet. Forever. This is the true union can free ourselves from that feeling of loneliness we feel when we're with someone. So, then there is nothing better than to share with a person's life. But we must first have one. "

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silent greeting strangers

... I wake up in a desert and they are just tired ... knackered and sometimes destroyed Prolix ... the time for no reason and I take pride in the heat rises of emotion around me ... never vixuta spectra of animal carcasses from the graceful look ... I am meeting a hyena but I can not tell her sexo qale Foxe was the ... hyena is there for a purpose and it seems the only missing the word ... in the sky hovering aggrazziati peacocks and the twilight of a mountain rising phoenix gifts ... where are they? I've been qi? where did it end qella monkey headed to Mandalay? the company of animals qesto made everything less gloomy ... and basically gave a glimmer of hope ... suddenly the air became heavy and the heavy breathing ... a sense of inadequacy and fear across the sky the failure seemed to clip the wings of the phoenix and the peacock ... lasted a moment ... the moment of the time of a blink of an eye ... has always been there to reappear every now and then ... the silent reception with which I made it my decreed the creation of new ... qalcosa qalcosa of blue ... or I was still me Qasi qalcun'altro? Qasi famous or Qasi disprezzante Stex me? animals made to go away and I did not stay me ... Stex dialogue too intense to bear ... I realized it was too late ... it was better to go back to sleep ... it was better to go on dreaming .. . but just because it was better as was necexariamente unsatisfiable desire ... now I was far away and I vd projected by a ray of light ... my figure loomed up ... over and over where it should exere where relamente was smiles ... I laughed ... ... ... beans and potatoes will only be a couch ... a blank thalamus not shared ... I decided to stay where I was before ... and went to sleep in actually trying to wake up ... but the less poxibile qella pink would be my and I would have taken care of ... why is qesto that makes the difference ...

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... last night I dreamed of San Pedro ... then a monkey tried to teach me how to beat the punishments like david beckham ... but that was not the time ... we qello first have to cry ... I woke up and went to the bathroom ... while I was on the toilet in front of me was shown a film which had the redundant feature of endless hours of projection ... dp qattro decided to leave and get back in the kitchen ... I prepared ... I poured a cup of coffee in the cup but it deserved more ... ... I drank down the street and I grabbed a light breeze taking away my last certainties ... had come time to learn and relate to a foreign qelle words I uttered seemed so familiar to me and symbolic ... but forgot them now ... I decided it was time for qello vd reality that was and it was there that I realized that there I was at my house but I do not know how I was in a desolate village in Southeast Asia and rich ... yet qella monkey could tell me qel damn secret ...

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The silent cold reception

"Yesterday I was a dog. Today I am a dog. Tomorrow I'll probably 'a dog. Sigh! There is little hope in progress" (Snoopy).

The reality live. We deferred. Poor in spirit envied our wealth. We the center of our solitude and there are no diagonals that depart from here. We think it is a day to change everything, that this is enough to wake up wake us, who also hopes to have needed some 'time to visit us, but we do not really believe it. We know that what you see is what there is, deep down we know that there is only that which does not seem enough. It is not full or empty glasses, is that there comes a time when you can no longer believe. You are lost without that you thought it could be your life. You were the images in a way that is not so e. .. had to go. Yes, but in the end it could have been worse. Complaining that for? And now we can not even complain? Wherever expect the possibility of a chance and we will not see others, I will not talk because we imagine that, after all, are already in the fast lane with us to trudge to the right. But perhaps not. Perhaps we are all on the right looking for a crack. People make the difference. It 's still the case. This is enough for me to understand that there is still room for me. That the reception and silent exists with the key to find it when I need it. Sometimes the impression is to feel the fall in the same moment in which it occurs and if the impact does not hurt just because there is someone that I'll soften. That someone stays with us when a I was too little and we need when we need to get back on the scene a bit 'less helpless when all we need is a bit' of silence in which to rest. This is because the silence is not absence but presence of meanings of words. And it is silent on the reception given to those who have too much noise inside to listen to friends who do not want to speak, but words for friends, who believed that insanity was a gift reserved only to others, and now he knows. He knows that everything starts with a meeting, he knows that the revolution does not make sense without evolution, knows that silence was not only a response to the expectation. Here is finally here. That place has always been yours. You did not know, but the chair was there for some time. And do not expect anybody but you.

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mexicano

... we were young and we were on the edge of our homes under the scorching sun with a sombrero on his head ... nx qel day was really hot and we had nothing to GUHUR took my ... qello coat ... now I had decided would be my day and so I sat down next to my friends as they sit the players on the bench waiting for their turn ... dp Paxoi a few hours of there like a funny animal vd many around them ... a crocodile looked at us and asked us the quickest way to mandalay ... but we did not have to ... qell'informazione maximo could direct it to Las Vegas without telling him and decided to give qel type indications in ... fund for a fucking crocodile what difference could have done or mandalay las vegas? But inside it was cold ... a cold prickly at times ... but deep Antarctic Qasi raxicurante was expected ... but in reality the bus nx nexuno of us knew where it would lead qella fucking bus ... then I realized that it was time ... I got up from his chair ... indoxai coat of good deals that everyone struggles to understand and I direxi Qali are there where everyone should go at least once in their life ... I took the road to mandalay ... I wanted to find qel crocodile ... but in reality at the end without knowing nor wanting ... he found me ...