eternal Xtmas
facebook. I'm still not fully awake, even partially awake but when meeting a sense of verticality, while the shadow of a latte cools to my right, I go on facebook. As always my home page is a hodgepodge of messages from friends and relatives in a vague order ganandos dotted with virtual trophies in a single farm or service organizations at the mercy of family of Sicilian origin. Most recent, go, God be good ones and zeros and vacuuming in this hall style cabin of the Marx Brothers, feel free and try to organize invited chronological order. Well, just better. Sunday, December 26, 2010
Subwoofer Earthquake Of San Francisco
A sip of cold coffee, which I like cold, accompanied by the first readings cuasiconsientes. Actualizoacadaminuto , Vivoenelfacebook , Maburroencasademispadres and Ledoyatodomegusta hate Christmas, there is an infinite strip of yellow icons in the country of diversity that tear me a comfortable sofa that is not mine and transported to a city I remember always bathed in sunshine and as good Galician lack of bars. The image engine of the meeting is drawn in black ink on white and think about doing something more rich Vodafone feliciatrle parties.
On the second page of one of the tools of communication and diversity (I know I have lied to the diversity, it is that facebook is so diverse that I enjoy various) stronger and lauded, meeting one of the two sailors of my list of VIPs, these such friends. Probably the first of the messages of peace and love and, thereafter, a new late Vivoenelfacebook supported by Semedamalhablarperoescribiendosientocátedra that tell the incredible stories of their breakfast in less than 160 characters.
At this point my brain does not support vision of information that comes due in more than three lines, so when the screen rearranges its pixels to teach the specter of a newspaper, even the barest holders seem to me of dark dense literary understanding. Curiously international conflicts should have taken a break to make last minute purchases because of the most talked about in the press is in sports or the memories of uncle Wikileaks.
Overcome by the will of the majority Cupcake and I just try to erase the voice of Ana Torroja my head through the legacy of Carmona, back to facebook seek today and click enter, scroll, scroll, scroll until you see the first playlist spotify HET team. I like it. Password and play. The music brings me to the work is embodied in the atmosphere and, like a Pavlovian reflex, I slips in the shower and I go out expecting to see river bags, ladies moody and adolescents struggling farms by buying all 34 of H & M in the melodious voice of Shakira. In the elevator I consider backing up, up, look at facebook and throw my rage against the world. Buy gifts at Amazon and getting my membership card detractor of Christmas.
When I open the door of the portal I think it's a shame that I have not yet bought anything from Dickens. Forget it! Mumble mentally as an executive with Hogwarts scarf looks at me condescendingly wearing his trophies elf wrapped in leather for the child and the child. Path through familiar streets that make me rejuvenate, corners I remember in a not too distant past, places that once accounted for the reward of a good afternoon of Sunday, the mystery of Stone of a future life I imagined the sweet and full of smug indifference literary circles or the smell of dried chestnuts and new books. I meet old friends, grandparents were the parents when my generation fire social and cultural life of a small village from which I do not remember, and with absurd theatricality, in a cross flanked by cafes and shoe stores, we started to recite poems Zorrilla. We laugh, you're still in the theater? Yes, he replies. Are you still contact you? No, well, they, most of them. I do not. I preferred to walk alone, but they always knew.
We said goodbye. I look at the ground while walking, the streets are wet and the lights of the windows reflected on the stone. I remember the pain of exile, the revival in this cradle of coy glances and endless rules to keep forms and I can not stop smiling. Just when I start to feel my hands were numb with cold, I push the green door of a shelter that always welcomed me with open arms. Behind the counter Eva is busy packing up and after several months without seeing each other, winks at me. At bottom, in the other room, the bookseller's catalog Candy thousand and one answers questions and Retranca still appears behind each corner. As guided by the peace of this retreat, several birds that flutter in my head decided to nest and help me learn more about them. The change is not physical, barely noticeable, but I feel at peace. I guess that peace is my snow, my white Christmas.
At home
go into facebook and do not know what to write, in a way I'm glad that immense public square advertising solitude and big poles little can understand feelings.
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