Well here's one of the two literary texts that put each week. Today I returned to cheat and put one I wrote a couple of months ago: Sunday morning will put a new word, I'm doing since Wednesday. Also, count on the collaboration of Orlando Diaz Gutierrez in the section on martial arts. Without further ado, here is the text ... I hope that if you do not like at least make them think.
IN
way we met more likely the street culture that exists in the provincial capital, either by name, Thomas Morales or his efforts to centralize the vast majority of academic venues, from colleges and the campus of Humanities to the government and the Pueblo Canario, with its museum of modern art inside. A street works continuously, with constant mixing tar vomiting renewal, created using public money and sweat, while on the streets of Whorehouses, two or three below the educated, pull back the plague Fecalizer water that broken and festering sewer for over four years to be patched metal slab cracks in the pipe that expels fat fuck in a parallel attempt to patch a changing city and just jedionda, which intends to continue falling more and more the streets of prostitutes, with their jacosos, their camels, their children of a bitch, in the truest sense of the term, his old green and other subhuman, up the Atlantic capable of swallowing everything, as it has done with the talents and despised islanders prodigious brains voluntarily forced to march to Madrid, the only hope that the sea and drown them all their bodies to be devoured by the dark, thus ending the problem and not see them ever again, while on the streets of the environment Evangelical church site and the local Catholic church, parishioners of both denominations pray because prostitutes get a better life for the elderly and children are not homeless and drug addicts because the cure of evil to achieve that torments. A chest every shot, every bead of the rosary, each look askance shouting praise to ensure that Doña may not bring the pearls today, that Somebody's niece wearing the same shirt from yesterday and that Jane Doe did not more than fifty cents in the basket. At the end of acts, go out the back door because the main man is back maimed and without showering with a plastic cup filled with copper rumbriento. Mass and worship ends at eight in the evening, time that coincides with the departure of college students of the afternoon shift, inspired by the upcoming weekend, walk slowly savoring the evening clarito not yet been rescheduled, joking about classmates, commenting on the last lesson, leaving to the night ... people come and go in the various streets that join only at corners and crosswalks. The old ladies who live behind the churches while the bag and grab hold of her friend's arm, which stock will go just inside the gate, after giving them a kiss. The homeless- homeless, according to this hobby to accept any foreignness as a sign of progress, think about that yet I shall spend the night without the spit, the pee, or simply burn them without the wake. Students wear shirts anti atheists that their parents got for Christmas Eve, with red aes chest and independence symbols whose meaning is unknown and only place to impress girls secret jipys revolution that adorn themselves with bracelets understand the Chinese and wear different colored socks on Punky Brewster plan.
"In Africa House next Wednesday giving a lecture on the war in the Sudan and its impact on the continent," says a boy enrolled in second story to his friend .Deberíamos to go, which is a good way aware.
"But that Wednesday is a party erasmus" he says.
"Well, but the conference starts at eight and the other will be from midnight, at least. Also, if we who are students, do not care about world issues, who will be interested? Politicians do not do more than spend on crap?
The conversation was cut because the integrated mobile mp4 Titanium cover, with eighty gigas camera, bluetooth and ten sega megadrive games, he rang the boy. It was his mother who called to see if he needed money to go out that night and while talking on the sidewalk, a homeless, looking like an alcoholic, I was coming from the front: he was known around the area and called him "Santa Claus" as his white beard and thick, full of lice and those tiny spiders one swallows without realizing as they lay eggs in skin. The man walked with his legs apart, the sheriff style west, rather than chronic drunkenness always brought, for the crust dry and yellowish shit you from the origin-empegostaba eyelet, of course, almost all of the two legs: the crust is uncorked as painting too swollen from the humidity to be a wall separating from long forgotten, nobody wants to rub. The picozón of shit did not stop scratching, so that your nails charged a foul odor and a dark shade of putrefaction. You know what this guy's ass, as though from the waist up was Atabi with an elegant blouse buttons that you threw for rompérsele pocket, from the waist down wearing nothing on his feet and panatalón sweatpants, brown, similar to Muhhamad Ali of that ad- spot, if we want to be taken seriously-broken sleep in the street, at the height of the buttocks ... It was a rag report, jareada old stench in the area of \u200b\u200bthe penis and open pockets but impossible to separate from the rest of the pants por estar empegostados con la cola del sudor, el ollín y los churretes de Don Simón. Cuando vio a los estudiantes, alzó la mano palma arriba por ver si le tocaba la lotería y estós se encaramaron a la pared más cercana como si esa mano fuese la de Muerte que venía a buscarlos: el que propuso lo de ir al tema del Sudán, el que hablaba por el móvil, el que le pedía dinero a mamá, añadió un gesto de asco hacia el hombre. No lo pudo controlar, pero asco igualmente.
El vagabundo cagado y jareado siguió adelante, sin percatarse mucho de la indiferencia estudiantil: efectos secundarios de que se te quemen las neuronas con el vino industrial puesto en tetrabrick. Al tiempo, el chaval terminó the conversation, after his mother get thirty euros, to like it, because the child is also entitled to have fun and resumed the conversation:
"Well, you said, if we are not interested in people of third world, how who will?
There was a slight pause at the window of German cakes and as could be done later to get drunk before entering the mobile disco asked
- What time is it?
-Son ...- colleague raised the arm to see the time in your Swiss watch made in Taiwan, at which time Americans saw their Nike sneakers made in China, his pants English Zara made in Morocco and France Lacoste polo-stitched in Pakistan. You know what I mean? That you and me, people in the third world, we give a shit.
With this ruling came to take a pretzel and cut and milk.
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