ON AIR: That place is not there, Negramaro
I'm fine: I'm alive, more or less healthy and I try to continue my existence. That's not it then very difficult to pursue, after all: it goes without saying, she is very independent and very little inclined to sudden changes [but not slow and progressive]. Let's say I could be in panciolle, his feet on the coffee table, and everything would be on much, however: they are not indispensable to my life. It 's you who is indispensable to me. Unfortunately.
So. I'm leaving, yes, like every summer. In three days I have a fantastic trip to Spain, followed by a tour to Portugal [point a lot about Porto or, rather, on the port (the liquor, I mean)] and a brief return to my beloved love Barcelona. I'll be away a couple of weeks and try to stay very, very quiet. I swear to myself and everyone should then be put up with my crazy hysterical menate with delusions of persecution and a level of security far beyond the disease.
As for the rest, I would say that everything goes well. I almost agreed with those who will make the argument, I'm not pregnant [and, as I pointed out a person rather than (just) wise, would be a miracle because I take the pill but I tend to prefer in any event, the melodrama quote: part of my nature], I'm doing gymnastics every day [two days] and I'm studiacchiando the committee in September [law information and communication (someone explain to me what I'm studying)]. Negative that there are always tired and do not sleep much. And finally, there's drama that you are several miles from me, I can not laugh with you, I can not watch movies on your couch, I can not sleep with you and I can not touch the back with lips.
What else? Someone has to prove the guilt of Bruno Contrada. Someone needs to explain why Italy and other countries on average civilians participating in the Olympics in a state that violates the most basic human rights. Someone should explain the obscure reasons that I should hold the shock in front of the concept of immunity.
Grandma. Okay.
Ah, one last thing. You wait there, still.
Where you breathe the same magic for my belly.
