One sunny Sunday morning, loaded I with my two rucksacks, go out to the cold street ready to eat up what stays of weekend, and later to to my house do losses inventory again.
I walk with firm step thinking about my breakfast, to double the corner and bait my two bundles in the porter of the car. Searching in the pocket I walk it was doing the entry, I extract the key and open the car. I already had the hand in the cold manacle of the door when I notice slightly strangely inside. I raise the sight little by little and discover a heap of of glazing that earlier were part of the window of the accompanist interspersed by the car. To part of all the roles and other garbage accumulated for months I have accumulated and now it was resting anyway.
Mounted in his crane the car goes away be quiet below while I fought on my rucksacks hope that the cabdriver should open the porter of his SEAT Toledo. We converse while I admire the sceneries of the street 30 me before meeting again again with the parallel reality of Japan Weekend.
After the doors of the pavilion of congresses he had already stopped being an any human being who inhabits the sad world of that they all want to flee. At the moment when I crossed these doors I had turned into Susonauta, the impermeable superhero and intranspirable.
Pranks to part, the Sundays visitors were much more receptive to my stand. Most of the persons that they happened to see with age that one this morning after buying a bread bar were stopping opposite to my table to listen to my histories in distant grounds and were returning to his couches with a small book under the arm. Which should have been a truce of the destination because this way to the return it would not have already to load with a box full of books to part of the bike, the trestle and the rucksacks.
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