They spend days and sometimes I feel stuck in a cycle that never ends. Hours pass and bring me love that I can enjoy short enormously. I'm not complaining, I suppose there are those who spend more than the bitch, no money, no friends and no love. Oh, and no catch.
These weeks are bitter in the capital, the march is supposed dectructiva pay tribute to the memory of those who died on October 2, elections already flawed poop and our authorities more concerned with loot that will be available for purchase liberty before a court just corrupt and disgusting as they are.
There, the ideas are still germinating.
Meanwhile, I took the opportunity to dust off my mind of storyteller and I'm writing in Escribidora page and think I'll like it. Meanwhile, I leave my best wishes. Are you a chingonería
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