fury
I was born and raised in (* censored *). a turbulent country. It was not easy because of the geography and geology have influenced social needs. only the writers and scholars become aware of these things, then they are relegated to roles of the second third and fourth floors, labeled as crazy. is difficult to get used to the things that you can not control. before returning to (* censored *) a friend told me to be careful not to scoglionarmi. I now understand the meaning of that term. in these streets is not a soul. not a machine, not a passer. nothing. I wonder how they manage the stores to survive. what people live. where they are. You can walk to the center of the road regardless of anything at any time of day and night. there is none. people work and evenings out or go out on the premises, they tell me. but even the locals, when compared with the human desert that fills these old streets seem empty. few people at most. three or four. what the fuck is going on?
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