a week has passed, another with a few quick progress and the process approved in the Senate. It's cold and we are almost forced to stay at home and the house becomes a place of too strong attendance. The hope of a change will not let me and end up looking like the sensation experienced by the officers of the fortress Bastiani. Like them, finally, falls prey to the enchantment of the habits of the comforts of bourgeois life (it seemed a bit 'of time ago) and rancorous.
Frost has stolen the trees and veiled in white like them a postcard from the town of Santa Claus. No gifts, just cold and hands that make you sick. In the morning I see the Chinese market imbaccuccati imagining flying feet warm .. Further on an African has no teeth but hums just the jacket, as he does?
But luckily there Friday night, the best time: two days before the new work week. It seems all the same: time in front of him, time and party ... to feel more wealthy and happy?
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