, ready to come home but never completely. I hung the bag on the back from who knows what day, I get to sleep on it. " cold makes interesting enough to invite you to take a broth of vegetables, so I stray a few yards to the neighborhood grocery store to buy a tray that comes with all the vegetables cut up, ready to put in water and boiled in soup. I deal with the small tray in one hand, the keys to my house to the other and the backpack in place, hanging on my shoulders resting on my back to the banks sector (two boxes in a neighborhood grocery store.) a jubileta of those who are elderly to cagarte place but surely earn you a 100-meter sprint, the same pack on the bench dying to go on display first, but the monkey is loaded with vegetables and seasonal fruits and the load up their homes with absolute skill. exactísimamente the same old shit that will make older alzeimer recurrent visits but do not shake your hand to Rozart ass on the bus. are those old men who are old since I was a kid, I'll see if the drafts. pa me that the bastard is immortal. the truth is that I steal the place of the box, the very turd, who lost the chivalry with the desire and the gift of people with goodwill. let it go (let it go specifically) because I'm so exhausted that I have no desire to speak to a wrinkled mask bitter. same, the other box is emptied at the touch so I am ready to pay my draft Palletisers hot broth while the cashier greet you already know that I'm always exhausted with the bag hanging and eager to return home. chabón Give clues on the fucking little monkey as he took out his wares. does not understand that the hall is for humans and monkeys should be the other side of the box. the typical old turd and caramel Argentine is believed that only have been born before who knows what cradle descent (or descent) patricia. suddenly need to get rid of the monkey and is a physical limitation that even he can impute to Peronism but chides me as if the fault that two objects can not occupy the same space in time was mine. I will not run over your puny humanity feigned and apologize to me instead of me screaming, with that tone which is scream but he could never be tried as such: Miss, you have to realize that you have to lift the pack when it comes to a place. uy uy uy. I was on my back, or backpack, the elder of shit but the cashier saw my gesture, in my facial tone, every intention reputed spinning for four languages \u200b\u200band with supreme wisdom says to me quiet as the day ends, you get to your house, nor say anything ... super quiet the chabon said those four words and I calm the beast that he was about to scratch the snout to the old Jeton. and yes, you have to respect elders, I say. but of course, he adds, perhaps we become like that someday. in that I did not agree but I understood the intent and went home cursing softly while soretón still complaining about the insolence of my backpack. I said, I am of bullying to the upper gum. and if I thought a little as they believe that the universe must be exterminated. so that one bit. the shit, I have to offer or death.
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