airport, it seems that it must take a plane to go abroad, not too far away, but it sounds strange, they usually talked about coaches, trains, ferries, connections, reservations, waiting, but this time not at the station, perhaps a mistake, we were wrong stop, the bus took us out of town ... the noise is deafening, huge steel monsters take off and land constantly, my head is spinning, F smiles, is that this time we are really doing the imponderable ... or maybe they are there because he has to leave for Ireland, even if you do not see Fau, then why would I ever take a trip, this is a period of "dead" season, it is cold, and I have not even done cmq check-in so I have nothing to fear, but I'm not too sure, I have spent a suspicious check, and then what about the paper route that I had in my pocket, someone wants to make a joke, but today is not April 1 March 1 but the ... cmq is there to wait, but I do not understand what you have to wait, and waiting hands me a bottle F, tells me that I will do well, that just a drink, to travel ...
and I dream a shuttle that goes slowly toward a small four-engine, show hostess that I use the ring, a little TV from where they see huge stretches of barren fields and houses that are turned into snow-capped peaks but then return to idle land and that far away from becoming very close, very large by tiny, imperceptible to a razor sharp ... and keep dreaming dear trains, hostels terribly distant, hostile climate, tongues, horrible coffee, stuffy rooms, bathrooms for contortionists, smelly socks on the radiator, cupboards without padlock, bicycle elusive, empty streets, constant work, constant repairs, scaffolding enveloping , yards yards and yards still ... I have restless sleep, perhaps I need to wake up with all the fuss is impossible to sleep, but the fatigue is so great, and so I take a dream ... dream of sunny days, cycling against the wind, the sea in winter, the bitter cold, runs the station, bunkers and fortifications, dry boats, towers to climb, castles to explore, photograph flags, maps to play, to experiment with dishes , and an army of French fries at every corner, every square, market, flat everywhere, cooked in lard not once but twice, not to mention the waffle iron ... is the time of the Flemish stew, rabbit in plum sauce, the pork shank, grilled duck, the soup of the day, the Trappist beer, but also of panos Panozzo, the apple pies, cakes with rhubarb, then the espresso is not so expressed, the pizza hut, of the five glasses of Pepsi, Starbucks, the bad, the impenetrable restaurants, the local ghost dell'irish breakfast, not to mention an endless amount of "yum yum yum" without having anything to eat in my hands! It 's the dream of distant cities, of tiny medieval villages and small universities, the renowned seaside resorts and large port facilities, and fantastic city of endless attractions ... we are running out, this long dream is to start the epilogue, but not before enriching other snapshots, like the guys who hit in front of the Atomium, Milan victorious, record stores where you never find what you need, heartfelt discussions, the family album without a family, half-carat diamonds, the memory of those who chased a dream and fell to his death, the challenges in high-altitude jump from the train without thinking, left-luggage mangiasoldi, dilapidated buildings, the self-portraits unpacked, exhausting walks, the pigeon crap on your shoe, lots table tennis, trash overflowing from every window, the chocolate of every shape and color ... driiiiiiiiiiiiiin
something sounds, I wake up, it's Monday morning, another bloody week I expected a mediocre job is my conviction, but I had a dream, maybe not go so bad, maybe some day smile, and then I understand, I still see all hazy ... but I dream or are awake? y
csxqp: Nirvana - "From The Muddy Banks Of The wishkah"
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