No man is an island is bullshit. I am the Asinara. Next
raining today. The rain, it is known, attracts clichés, things that go by the ever-present "it is raining, thief government" spoken by one who has complained of the lack of speed that had a navigator who had sold him the camera's signal when it exceeds i 180. The clichés come to the evergreen "rain is good for the earth," theological truth expressed by a local building speculators that moves simultaneously with two SUVs, one for each foot. It must be said that the most popular sites is common, however, my shop, where, moreover, when it rains it becomes a collection of forgotten by God and the people who take advantage of the situation like vultures coming at 5 pm and taken down until closing, "where I go, it rains," behold, my joy, my beautiful love holy treasure of my eye very reason for my existence in life, when you left home to come here to poison your life, it was raining the same. So how could you explain that you've caught the rain to come to me asking me "but if I one day away, eh, I should ever decide to make the Sky subscription, do you think that promotion could there be?".
truer than true.
"Look Sergio (the most usual of usual) take me off guard because my wife has run resumed the crystal ball to lose in the goldfish and now I can not find those on hand from 2:00 to 3:00 roosters slaughtered necessary to my usual browsing the future, but if you give me a dozen bones, possibly yours, can I fix it and tell you even now. "
The bad thing is that all of my regulars have become predictable, they're all at the same time, and they hate each other deeply. I think I needed (in their own way they are, they are indispensable because it can be a possum hanging from a genital piecing) bicker among themselves, thinking that others are impostors or take advantage of my time. I find myself in the paradoxical situation of having a person sitting in the middle of the store with a newspaper open to a fight with another sitting on the shelves of the display case in the arrangement of intent sheets pulled from all budgets allowed by her attire, which in turn insults a heavily third to the forbidden dream become my shadow as I do not moves in more than forty inches from where I am.
And not even all.
missing young lawyer who strappacazzi I must tell the whole storyline of Spider-Man since the days of Lee / Ditko today, preaches to me that I did not read comic books as if I knew them by heart (no use in my "do not know / I have not read / I have not the slightest idea what the fuck are you saying / why do not you Autodafé ritual with your entire collection of Giant Devil?), lacking the alien, a guy who after a stroke speaks a language incomprehensible and, as I try I can not understand a saw what he says does not want to write and always shows different things but mostly missing Don Tonino, what has always been a working unit that does not work "The DVD does not read" the attack and it works. The TV not be seen, the attack and it works. The portable cd you hear boom, the attack and feels. His wife is the shit that sells all that stuff broken.
Why does it rain?
Now, right now, I'm writing out of desperation in all this humanity around. Do
hello to Herman (the shadow) is that now I also been looking over their shoulders.
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