When you leave the blog left and returns, it seems as if talking to herself. And that's the end of the writing, is to speak with a single, write what would be pleased to read and comment the same, with that which appears behind the written words, which a reader imagines writing these lines, and I get vertigo, dizziness myself, Migo same. And no, I'm asking that if someone reads comment for my ego to know that if someone reads me, let this silence is prolonged or not, who cares, each to decide.
A day off, with love, food, a good book, a couch and a blanket, nothing to do, or anyone who have to endure. Serrano ham good at cooking, well-being in body and Soledad Puértolas waiting in the pages of The Story of a Shelter.
I've put up with Internet mail and the bank and outstanding stuff, and now I can throw me in the paunch to the end of the day. What happiness ...
