And finally, the day arrived. The new puppy is already in my hands Paciocco, and it has already given way to enjoy the beauty of architectural graphics and damn game. Bello.
theory now, the most normal to do would be stay at home and give vent to this obsession with masturbating for hours trying to understand the brain to your child, Bruno, who People do not eat .
But no. No, I've got better things to do. That said this is absurd, since in fact these 600 euros spent on new PCs have been disbursed on account of Black and White 2. Or at least, Black & White 2 has had an important role in the affair. But something happened between the head and neck, which led me to have to organize differently my weekend.
I was in Ferrara, as I was going to be a bit 'of time. Gloss over the fact that we spent a week mythical fun, as usual, with workshops and evening at any point of absurdity in a house. Yes, ours is obvious.
was Tuesday. I was going to bed after I thoroughly depressed after watching a beautiful film: "The Gospel According Precarious" . And I do not know why, but once again my neurons went to clash with each other to form the usual thought that by now almost a year and a half gnawed at me all the organs subject to erosion. ANNALISA A.
And who the fuck is, one might say. In fact I do not know if this little site of questionable interest has never hosted the letters in a row to the other before. What is certain is that in January 2005 for me Anna was already a sense of guilt.
brief summary of previous games.
High School, the first year. The class of good Zisha accommodates 27 people. Good Zisha, although remember perfectly a list of the averages
(Aston dared Buccella Caggiano capaccio Carrafiello Carrafiello Catalan cataldo Cillo cuozzo de de martino martino Fasano cat skirt latronico Meola morrone mustache Pagliuca polished address Rufolo santucci Tortolani German)
not know exactly who it belongs, except of course, the companions of the medium.
High School, second year. The class of good Zisha hosts 25 people. Two were censored, he was to be the third. Although the names of the flavors perfectly mouth (G. Paul and Marjory L.) is not particularly sure you remember well the other participants in the game of school.
High School, third year, fourth year, fifth year with a marginal note. The class of good Zisha houses 17 people. Knows them all very well and some would not even know them.
note: the fifth year in January, a few months after graduation AA institute change. Psychiatric.
In all this, Anna was the first and second this year. And the relationship he had with Zisha could bring a bad taste jokes, insults and some masturbation, mental or otherwise, about the handsome features of the subject. Subsequently, the report went outside the school, with improbable intersections during a stroll in the square. Until the breakthrough came.
Good Zisha confirmed what he had said from the first day of its existence. Bologna became his new home, and with great surprise, discovered that Anna had the same opinion. Thus began a friendship visceral, which led them to stay until 5 o'clock in the morning to chat in the window of her room. Yes, there is no need to say. I was cooked to perfection.
After a few months the relationship began to creak. I resigned to the role of friend or whatever, I began to treat it as such and not as the core of my existence, and then began to make me a bit 'of friends in that of biology. I started to hang out with them dear and A. did not seem to appreciate. In short, she was jealous gear. And after a skirmish, I sent her to hell and goodnight to the bucket. Then she tried to recover, to apologize, but I, an actor more than ever, I got shit in my role as a man hurt and angry, and treated her so how can you treat an old yellow cloth to clean the dirty glasses. (Which by the way are identical to the stomach human. Just try it.)
So the situation stood. I hated her, but was ruined by guilt, she hated me and that's it. For almost a year and a half I think I've thought about her at least once a day. I even dreamed of, sometimes. I wrote a dozen messages never sent.
And finally we come to Tuesday (the face of the short summary.) I was going to bed, I thought of her, and I made a phone call. And she sent me a text message. And we arranged to meet on Friday.
All past, after a year and a half. Knowing that I was not the only asshole that when he passed places they frequented together he felt a blow to the sternum and had tried to call, blocked by an unknown force, which was lovely. And yesterday afternoon, when I see it coming, with the usual sunglasses, with a smile to say "and so we'll see, I'm happy but also angry," the heart is stopped for a moment, after minutes minutes of tachycardia. And it was nice talking with her again, just remember his movements, his leap, his cadence is still tied to our province, his smell, his gaze. E 'was great, and I love her. It' was great, and I'm happy.
The greatest weight I have ever brought to the consciousness is obliterated by a phone call. Raffaele comes tonight that tomorrow is going to see Dream Theater. We leave all three together, then dinner with her and eventually Estragon.
Welcome back, there.
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