Last night I went to the bar, I did not do it, I wanted avoid at all costs, I would have been able to write speeches that would have gone.
But I stopped, there was Henry, the driver, just got back from the rosary of Tito. The
Tito did not know him well, Henry.
And I've seen hell, the real one, the one from which you can not escape.
filled with soothing, shook like a leaf and smoked like hell.
and smoke drew the same conclusion, awareness of murdering a friend of 27 years.
And there's the case, taking fate, that he will regret it if the grave. There was
sander, luca, steak and checco and many others.
Rivers of memories, things that happened, things too trivial to describe, to remember, to deny to themselves that they have lost a friend.
Tonight I did not sleep, or rather I struggled.
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