was a quiet Thursday afternoon, one of those bright and sunny days that give meaning to our gray city. One of those days where, everywhere you turn, you seem to be able to touch the mountains with his eyes. And I, like every Thursday afternoon, I was in spiritual retreat in search of the stars, all of my chakra to deal in the best way the most anticipated event of the week, our Ellis Island, our wonderwall: the CUTR, in other words.
When at a certain point, I run into something irresistible immediately catalyzes my attention and steals my spirit yourself wholly to not return to my body more. That's from my ephiphany joyceana of memory begins to draw some elusive and confusing conclusion.
I realize how the world none of us is fundamental to how we are all the grains of sand carried by the events of that time and operating rules. But not so in reality, we are all cogs in a devilish gimmick in which we are entangled and rendered helpless. Is there anyone who stands on the other, who excels in intelligence and sharpness but at stessotempo is unparalleled in terms of beauty.
The man of the new millennium, the figure that everyone would like as a father, like son, like his grandfather, and as coach of Deportivo La Coruna. An enigmatic character, unique to egugliare Piga and his follies with a simplicity worthy of the most banal advertising Mulino Bianco.
that he is the superman of which he spoke Zarathustra?!? That both he and the Andrea Sperelli of modern times?!?
http://it.youtube.com/watch?v=S1WKYmx4i1Q
For posterity will judge ...
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