Can Tendonitis Be Cured

Street # 4 # 3 tre_ number of fools of fools

- Out!
curses against the door of the cock.
- Vanessa, get out of there or the gap to kick it - Football - door - football - of - the latest football is empty and James almost lost his balance.
The doors open soon, leaving a portly friar. I punched the wrists seem Glove challenge.
- go back to Jacopo home, after midnight. It should be 'to sleep I go there too.
The friar follows the movements and rotates toward the street flooded by the light orange in Milan the night. The squalor peripheral spreads. James feels to die.
- Are you singing in there, let me go - he says.
- James please do not be silly. There is no function at night, good God, Get out of here.
- Hymns. Sing to the Lord. Let me in at all hours. Sing while
stares with glassy eyes, a watery blue that seem like a gray background of the lake. The photos of the newspapers or the eyes of the dogs lost the traffic lights.
- Vanessa dressed in white cotton, please, listen to me, monk. And I take her home. I do not make noise.
- No Vanessa. Jacopo I lost my patience. Here is your return, paid the meter. Just do not you see here, while noises like a jerk and I wake up in the people of the island. And come the day, the next time.
closes the door suddenly, without remorse. The songs seem a distant bird.
Jacopo remains firm out there. Panting. The arcade echoes of his breath heavy.
- I do not want, fine.
Whispering palms flat on the warm wood, the floor of a loft vertically rotated ninety degrees. With the grand piano, acrobat experienced. A strange and subdued style, it is said. You've always had my dear. Mumbles. Dries saliva with the elbows.
wire spider's face plastered.
Hands in pocket reaches the sidewalk side. Then
walks like a zombie, behind the neon of a comet Pakistani kebabbaro more tired than him.
While eating, ears dilate, and a noise penetrates the eardrums. The nice onnubilamento who opens his mouth and feel younger. But James looks at his shoulders and turns constantly. You will hear later. Or are your soles to make his steps.
you ask.
someone follows him, we hear the rhythmic breathing.
must be her.



She did that night. He
closure.
The turns, the small hours.
He lost the phone, keys, smoking.
has a flat tire and drag to walk home like a jerk.

His bike follows him like a faithful Doberman. Up to
Maciachini. And beyond.