A pound and a half of lobotomy, thanks.
" I put a pound and 800, What shall I do? I leave? "
leaving, leaving. That makes me comfortable. What I do not know if just a pound and a half. What if I again like last night I will not infused raspberry and hours night focused on the buzzing of mosquitoes Pisa. What I do not want to hear about great visual syntagmatic the column with the stomach in an uproar. Not that I'm not going to save me from even Mastroianni. What disturbs me your interest in my emotions and your staring at me every time I walk past. My mother feels that my nausea even along a telephone cable of 870 miles ... "and make me" What are you hurt? "" I would say. I hate to feel impatient, because I realize when they are, and become just nasty. That a thousand other things.
So let, let the pound and 800 of lobotomy and if it makes me even happier is un'aggiuntina.
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