Amici miei! che piacere vedervi così numerosi. e che brutta sopresa constatare questo astio che serpeggia viperino tra i vostri commenti... ma perché?! non mi volete più bene?...
meno male che alcuni di voi ancora ricordano il volto del padre, per dirla con Stefano Re.
ahr
comunque, il fatto è che a tokyo davvero non succede niente di nuovo. le solite cose. vado in giro in bici, buy books at 60 cents, Japanese manga and faint on the subway.
the other night I fell like a baked pear in the crowd of drunken Japanese indifferent and not that crowded inside a subway car warm and happy ... ah, god bless them, these good hard-working. and conscientious. n
have not even turned on to see what had happened. or have moved a step (and how could they, poor sott'alcool sardines?), which allowed me to not fall headlong, like a boiled artichoke. I was more like a cooked pear. the fact is that they see it, people who collapsed and fainted. is a kind of national sport. habit. the fact is that I was not sure drunk. my brain has just stopped working for some time (here I serve it on a silver platter ... go!). blackouts. so I was there for a while, unconscious, curled like a troglodyte in the distance waiting for salmon along the river bank. mah. here, maybe the Japanese do not want me as well ...
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