returns. Saturday, January 8, 2011, afternoon.
city of Rovigo that shit. Forget about it here because the only train deleted from this Pontelungo of epiphanies on Thursday is that regional wrong limps towards Chioggia. The departures board do not mind, oblivious of Chioggia and the railcar, which could also remove it completely, so to avoid the weight of the illusion of being there almost there, at home. The red brick station the same as many other Italian cities, the same as that of Ferrara, to that of Arezzo. But here too many times I got stuck there, just that the bar is also closed Saturday. Work slowly, do not work. That comes from going crazy with the iPod and exhaust 54 Wu Ming, who read for five hours straight would be too humanely even if the book is yet another lady, and key internet dried up tomorrow, and you who on the phone telling me that I could control, like the first train I take in my life, and then the echo of my porcodio bounce back up to the underpass.
red bricks with his head down and walked under a white sky, like when the jokes come and live here, which is halfway between Rovigo all places where we could go, so that the half-way station is far from everything and everyone, a faded monument flood of '51, a Chinese man shouting and yawning sitting next to me, a tree made of bare and leafless trees destroyed sidewalks and uneven. On the benches of the avenue are knots of Romanian drink beer fifth choice, dressed in gray and brown. It seems to be forgotten in a few cities in Eastern god, one more bad Zilina, where the difference is the sign that would have led to Odessa, but here more than we could end up rotting in Anguillara. Submarine is not that original. In the background a church that seems made of bricks with the same station, or vice versa, at the end of the avenue. Around, really, nothing. Maybe we are wrong but the clearing of Church looks like a garage for buses. Rovigo city of shit. Claudia does blowjob ten euro, so they write on faded billboards, there are A4 hanging from some girl in love with the 30 Second To Mars on buses from tack to go and see them in concert, in a clearing of the old burn something to judge black smoke from the wood did not appear.
banknotes in his pocket I cut too big even for junk food vending machines, so the only thing I can swallow with a small change in the coat is kinderdelice , and The hurt done in a hurry this morning. What yesterday was still a chemical, which has returned Marcella yesterday and it was a pleasure discover that you still know how to open the second gate with intercom entry. And we discovered the magic of the diaphragm, which we thought were a joke as the new Litfiba, and instead showed that there Federico Fiume enormously knowledgeable longer shaves up all square, including myself. Which arises as a hypertensive and angry for a final failure, which stops at every start to say something that you hear and then hangs up, that certain changes between verse and chorus seem to be modulated with an electric saw. But it seems to be 88, people went crazy, people made up, sounds dark and black crest. And Max Collini. The future smiles on those of us , stamped on the back.
reach the church we can opt for anything on our right and nothing on our left, a distributor and a best western the reflective windows. An old man wrapped up in that bike swerves. Sounds like a joke. It does not seem real. Like when I stop and I sincerely hello and tell me you remember we smoked a cigarette with the concert in Ferrara vasco remember? And for me it's a little 'how to choose whether to go left or right in front of the red brick church. And no, I'm sorry too but I do not think we'll play together again in the near future or maybe in the next few years , mixing truth with small phrases that do not usually say. As if a player were to say things that come out of his head and press dall'addetto his team.
The only bar to cross in front of an abandoned house, is closed. Does not even swear that much we do not hear anyone. Rovigo city of shit, and I'm not people, because of people I've counted more than a dozen. Lord come get me and I think of Fiume and the polite handshake, a bit 'timid a bit' jerky, cigarettes who knows where I'm climbing cycling the bridge of Stalingrad, dodging or 19, or skipping the priority at intersections.
There are no shops, there's nothing, there's just this long path trodden by bus and by non-EU master come and get me, and a dog that rolls on the ground is the most alive I see a couple of hours. As the controller in my car and we had three penalties in four, and as the Chinese who pretended to be dead not to pay. As the controller was going to say something to the effect that he had reversed the validation on my business travel there and back. As the inspectors who stopped in time, while the third received peeled for a guy who could not tell which side was turned. Who controls the controllers, we would have laughed at if I were there too. Adriano is still distant and unnecessarily, if not in space, time interval from now to the next available train.
Rovigo city of shit while the metallic voice of the ad listing all the trains except mine, which is cold to the heart despite all the licking and goodbyes, as the cleats of Felipe Melo on the face of an opponent. As the mother of the macaroni Gandolfi. As the minutes that slow and that this future rather than smiling, grinning.
Fiumani What seems a bit 'Vasco Rossi before he disgraced. What I look like a fool with the mac and sunglasses and the sun going down on the countryside, in a waiting room that is actually three benches placed at random. And yes, the smell of roses is a chemical reaction, and if one day I found out did not love her anymore. And it is dramatically true, that nothing in the void between distributors best western Romanian coach dogs and curses sore throats, I Fucking the bar did not find in one hour and go walking. Rovigo city of shit. And the first Rovigo polemic that passes through here, do not expect more. The shocking thing is
as always you're right, if I controlled, I would be at home already. Rovigo city of shit.
