Come non utilizzare il titolo "Non qui, ma qui" per iniziare questo post ritardante (zozza!) e ritardatario.
Insomma: non sono qui, ma sono qui.
In realtà non lo so nemmeno io dove sono.
Persa nei pensieri, prima, nelle melodie, dopo. E nel mentre persa in mezzo alla burocrazia della vita (vedi: visite mediche, università and bla bla bla bla ....) My track
living is becoming increasingly an oxymoron (for those who could not remember what the oxymoron: animal teeth and white long (two), which strives to build dams in Po Valley).
I said, the track and live the oxymoron. All we can say that it is not alive. But consistency has never been my strong point (maybe I'm too strong for Constance).
The fact is that I always write something intelligent and funny, but end up with bored alone while doing it, and I'll jump on the bed reading a Dailan Dog. Folks, he is a man with casings-room. Biliv me.
Ehhhhhhhhh short. What can I say that will interest the people following me with internett love and devotion (I went on?): Parto
people! Between 10 days delivery! I'm going in that of Paris, the city of baguette (zozza!) The taste of her armpit, and the dialect scatarroso noses upward (here comes the parade of clichés, a bit like talking to Italy: pizza, figs, mandolin .. and mafia - niu come since 2007).
Well, perhaps I found a place to be projected: Paris (not Hilton, by the way), on the Seine, a beautiful Parisian arm with his arm and fragrant without phlegm (but with the nose) that whispers: "You 3 is Jolì madmuasel, je tem. "
Or in a penthouse on the first floor (sipperchè Mica Paris are so obvious) puzzolentissimi I eat cheese with acacia honey and Poplar (last I am not sure there) and drink gallons of wine DOP, DOC, DOG (it is useless, I always think of him!) and keep me informed if there are other .
cough cough. From the director make me a sign: "Aooo tajaaa.
webnauti bye.
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