pick up where we left off.
were saying that crossing the street in front of the Empoli train station is a bit 'like the mad rush of bison survival of the African savannah as they attempt to cross the river to avoid being eaten by crocodiles.
Here, if we replace the reptiles with motorists, the comparison holds perfectly. We have to
absurd that one can not reach the square in front without suffering serious injury or permanent damage to health. Here, in this case you should avoid those dickheads that, racing bike to a few millimeters up to you and touching your organs vital, run like hell on the pavement of the pitch. And while
regularly rails against them by saying unspeakable curses on their address, I continue my journey with all speed. With his eyes still red and full of sleep that will never be recovered (if not during the 'eternal rest), I throw a' still look down on the shutters of the shops and watch the boys of the pastry shops that fill the boots of their cars with full trays of donuts, stuffed croissants and other delicacies to be delivered to the nearby bars.
filled my lungs with the enticing smell of those wonderful temptations and allotment ambled toward the small bar where I usually spend half an hour before the 'entry to work.
course recall the 'care of' old owner of the premises to be able to deliver me in your hands the most beautiful and tasty croissant: something that is more difficult than you might think, because the bartender is against his will to fight on time - every five minutes - with the wife or the 'sous-chef who occasionally looks out menacingly from the kitchen. Once
managed to reclaim my breakfast, if fresh daily newspapers have already been purchased by the bartender, I rise like a beast on "the Nation" and began leafing through the newspaper with the greatest attention and most careful way critical on topical issues.
From time to time I look at the horn to control the filling cream - leaked capriciously from 'inside of the pasta - not going to drip on my hand and, consequently, crapped in the sleeve of my jacket.
controlling reolarmente 's watch to see that I have not lingered too long, I can still find time to get angry wildly for the usual bad news for corruption and dishonesty with impunity. What a shitty country that we are leaving our children ...
(maybe more ...)
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