Dear Doctor,
you ask me how I am, asks me for duty, perhaps out of pity professional. Well I am. First of all I am. Stop. Here. In addition then there's sleep. I'm with the special swelling that comes after a pizza and a beer ill-digested. With ears tingle from renovation of nearby buildings gutted (and in early signs of a potential asbestos poisoning). With the tan freckles on the lake and not return before Saturday. The visit makes me homesick for the first time ever, to me, the heart of the famous turf. I'm busy at work, but in fact I drag myself, I stretch like a cat and myself stretched even an apology for my lovely starvation.
Tonight mater is in the August visit, brings rich gifts, zucchini and tomatoes from the true homeland. Maybe a kilo of oil. Russerà trombone as a laundry for a night and leave me an orphan again the next day. The cat must have Trippolo predicted something, since I refused the header of the morning greeting haughtily turning around his ass, as if to say "kiss this, bitch."
Here's how I am. Like a limpet on a rock on the third of August, watching the waves go by.
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