I put the TV while I like custard. Quito
volume. I do about that lately when I see a gathering. Bald
A man talks and talks. Plug into the moderator. Neither looks at him, he does not pay any attention.
The others pretend to listen, but you can tell they are gearing up his own mind.
One of the commentators is resting on the table for discussion, has his arms crossed and his right hand scratches his left arm, Raca, Raca, without stopping.
They wear suits, they painted cocktail server, everything shines, tops, pendants. I
custard and light a cigarette. Now speaking of the Raca Raca.
A botox filled seems to be furious and answers. The plug of
and now again like a cat scratch, slowly, up and down the arm.
gives me a sense of ascazo, turn off the TV and turn on another dick.
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