(*) Summary of published yesterday: Beset by a kind of conjugal towards this blog, a guy has his dubious and unexpected vacation style and no less doubtful in two installments, search much intrigue as the economy, as long as they leave obligations devotion does not anymore. This is the last, in which supplies the final outcome. ●
The bar, curiously, was not deserted. A short and varied fauna, gathered there for the same gritty chance that if they had taken best place they had mistaken for good luck, occupied without enthusiasm but with drinks and snacks stale most of the tables. In one of them, with the corners of the board raised raylite leaving fuels and their faith in the light, sat a pair of black nuns and young people accompanied by a kind of determined look and paints cure in civilian clothes. He looked implacable of those who do not help you climb the trunk to the attic bus line because they think they have a manifest destiny to serve right away with a methodical compulsion to save them the risk of doubt. Were the three stiff as sticks with their cups of coffee sold out and kept a more boring than a contemplative silence, devoid of any plot. In all this pile of data and as the day was thick I could not deduct more than the nuns were not Irish. I parked my insight into another table with the intent to quench with copious and typical dinner while Falco chair leg with a paper napkin folded in eight to prevent the roll might seem obscene. Looking up I found a very neat subject occupying the next table read with devotion and a bound book with pasta old who called himself Manual to learn to type in 3 weeks . He was not wearing horn-rimmed glasses looked like a clerk or psychopath or subjected to any other predictable screenplay, but it was so alien to any place that left the bar more anachronistic than it already was. With gestures and a quick dry and bathed in saliva thumb turned the pages of the manual with a familiarity which showed take more than three weeks devoted to this noble endeavor. He did it with the same delight with which we spend the holidays.
the eve of that page I had started the above with a visit to an exclusive beach of Levante supposedly besieged by a golf course, a country inn and the acidic soil of the sea from the drains of the ships coming to the nearby port. Gone were three days of rigorous and oppressive setting that offers all summer that price and was the first in which the wind turned to the usual pious and east, with such decision that had become a deterrent surf bathing. The waves had tossed green foam mounted in a good-sized golden scales which were already gray and opaque to be stranded on the shore. The indolence of the few walkers passing by his side topped the faint hope of being returned to the water and only Gulls that hovered over the feast gave signs of life in a landscape that seemed suddenly stopped by an old order and strict routine. In this land on which the bathers were petrified as signposts to the unwillingness holiday, a gull pecking at the fish began sheepishly, looking nervously sideways at both sides as if he feared being arrested for indecent behavior. And there was something indecent in the fury with which was implemented on the corpse's head, around the eye, then not without ambition of elegance from the body block and neck as jackhammer. It was at that moment when I decided to go in search of sites less carnivorous, unaware that the modern automobile mechanics take me to meet other guests no less voracious.
The bar, curiously, was not deserted. A short and varied fauna, gathered there for the same gritty chance that if they had taken best place they had mistaken for good luck, occupied without enthusiasm but with drinks and snacks stale most of the tables. In one of them, with the corners of the board raised raylite leaving fuels and their faith in the light, sat a pair of black nuns and young people accompanied by a kind of determined look and paints cure in civilian clothes. He looked implacable of those who do not help you climb the trunk to the attic bus line because they think they have a manifest destiny to serve right away with a methodical compulsion to save them the risk of doubt. Were the three stiff as sticks with their cups of coffee sold out and kept a more boring than a contemplative silence, devoid of any plot. In all this pile of data and as the day was thick I could not deduct more than the nuns were not Irish. I parked my insight into another table with the intent to quench with copious and typical dinner while Falco chair leg with a paper napkin folded in eight to prevent the roll might seem obscene. Looking up I found a very neat subject occupying the next table read with devotion and a bound book with pasta old who called himself Manual to learn to type in 3 weeks . He was not wearing horn-rimmed glasses looked like a clerk or psychopath or subjected to any other predictable screenplay, but it was so alien to any place that left the bar more anachronistic than it already was. With gestures and a quick dry and bathed in saliva thumb turned the pages of the manual with a familiarity which showed take more than three weeks devoted to this noble endeavor. He did it with the same delight with which we spend the holidays.
the eve of that page I had started the above with a visit to an exclusive beach of Levante supposedly besieged by a golf course, a country inn and the acidic soil of the sea from the drains of the ships coming to the nearby port. Gone were three days of rigorous and oppressive setting that offers all summer that price and was the first in which the wind turned to the usual pious and east, with such decision that had become a deterrent surf bathing. The waves had tossed green foam mounted in a good-sized golden scales which were already gray and opaque to be stranded on the shore. The indolence of the few walkers passing by his side topped the faint hope of being returned to the water and only Gulls that hovered over the feast gave signs of life in a landscape that seemed suddenly stopped by an old order and strict routine. In this land on which the bathers were petrified as signposts to the unwillingness holiday, a gull pecking at the fish began sheepishly, looking nervously sideways at both sides as if he feared being arrested for indecent behavior. And there was something indecent in the fury with which was implemented on the corpse's head, around the eye, then not without ambition of elegance from the body block and neck as jackhammer. It was at that moment when I decided to go in search of sites less carnivorous, unaware that the modern automobile mechanics take me to meet other guests no less voracious.
(*) Nickjournal Published August 26, 2009 .
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