Breakfast at Tiffany's - or a romantic dream of fucking
There was a time when someone would say, fine words. Today
mirrors look empty.
face with which I woke up long smile of false teeth. Listening to voices Canterine barking on the phone. I'm surprised my enormous sunglasses.
Then I wonder how I ever be buried in this province Hibiscus yellowing to eat lentils and toothbrushes.
For four long months I've been patient, as befits those who want to find a way. I took notes on sterile gauze, collected leaves, read the instructions on all bottles of shampoo, I painted the walls bright colors to not to attract attention, I even pretended not to.
Now what? What else is there? Sorry if I can not throw away the tea bags.
Sorry if I do not collect more stamps to dispel the anxiety disorder. Sorry if I've broken my balls.
So there is enough for everyone. A ça suffit for all occasions. A mavaffanculo for the highest bidders.
So I got a cat and I named as my grandfather died.
least keeps me company and do not owe me money.
So I carefully folded the last pair of socks and I've planted basil in, what your mother wanted for himself.
But it is sad to wake up with the sun in my eyes and think that all this waiting and collecting four-leaf clovers in the books did not help anything at all, who walk like an offended any Bovary to be dramatized in the sky like a lump of dung.
But I forgive you, because I do that are much, much better than you.
Have a good trip you flavor enhancers, succellatori candy rhubarb, rust and antifreeze, you past loves and vegetable soups, which will accompany the road.
As much as possible away from me.
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