September and October is still not go out over the front door locked and you I ask for directions to uscirtene running from the burning building without passing through the street, but with a full belly .
The toilets on strike while I am working at the heart of hours that the rocket opens and we can spend the evening sitting outside, inside standoci.
The leaves do not fall even if the blow off and leave me to see you sneak from the ceiling. I rented a kidney and now returning in time.
The Hard Times of Mattia Barro.
We talk for hours about things I've ever seen and we're at it we also talk about all the loves you've had. Is desired. But not assessed.
Sidewalks of a September that dragged on like a cancer in the balance. And an October that does not seem the least able to maintain the promises promises maniacally. Reports of seasons that have left us at ease, as we were excited to chew on violent events that led us into war.
There is hatred everywhere. When
have fallen tears of cardboard, I am prepared milk and tea while you are sleeping, but on the other side of town, if Milan want and you can even call it that. A house does not have anything left and I no excuse No excuse for no scalper trying to contact you and say "it's not the end of the world." Sai.
What then for me it is.
At a certain time we are just me and the lamp Ikea and intrusions that night my temples do not like blue and dark days in the temples. Neither you. There is nothing left to eat except the pounds of anxiety on the sternum that I go fan hunger.
E 'come dawn, we all return
in Piedmont.
Mattia Barro
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