"I love the rain, washing away the memories from the sidewalks of life ..."
- Woody Allen -
"And how many will never be washed the sidewalks in the last two weeks?" Repeated Miss Wilson ...
The rain slid on his face for not getting it wet, but for a dirty bully restlessness that inevitably encroached on fatigue.
That morning Miss Wilson had spent in making many movements, duties, work, physical and psychological aptitudes, occupations and stumbling, had been able to finish with care and zeal creepy.
The good intentions of the theater would take place until the cell, resting on the kitchen table, had not been animated sound and light ... well auguring the news that, he hoped, would bring with itself.
The ring was made to wait about 5 hours.
The subsequent slight pressure of the thumb Miss Wilson on the button, marked with a red receiver, had made the sky above his head, blue despite the rain had not succumbed to the sun and the soil was washing the pavements with such persistence.
The good news had arrived: the intervention, although mild, was unsuccessful.
"A heartfelt embrace container furnishings ...", so anxiously awaiting.
0 comments:
Post a Comment