It was a quiet day of May in the Piazza Repubblica, where Jack was waiting for if one be sitting the bench. The warmth of a timid sun caresses her arms, a warmth to an already excessive heat intolerant he was. It was a light wind from the sea to wash away the hassle and shake their hair cut short but already thick. He waited.
Beside him chewing the Café Europe, already well fat, the speeches of the young elite of the town.
"The future leaders" thought Jacko in gaze, in a listless contempt always fashionable, but often only rarely fooled. In return they threw derogatory comments on some scandalous features of the beggar over the glass. "Have you seen that hair?" Do not even remind you of a toilet brush? "Ha ha ha, but they have the money to buy it, a brush?" I doubt it, Terence, you have not seen that kind of shirt door? "Eja, is: very reminiscent of the cloth used for floors and it cleans the chick from 7 flights of stairs of my building!" Maybe it's his son ... "Ah, yes, laugh too: after having finished the chick steal rags, and makes us this shirt for his bastard son, Can you imagine?"
"Far be it from me to disturb your pleasures classist, guys, but I would be very grateful if while not hinder the view of the Palace Justice down there ... "
" And that gook who wants to fuck now? "I think Terence eyeing Shusaku, sitting at a table behind a blatantly one occupied by his group. Trattavasi of a boy about 13 years with features distinctly oriental, who blissfully sitting behind his lemonade was watching straight in the eye, to mark the index page of a heavy book to look at and of course reading and a fucking smile on the Mona Lisa on his face. And thoughts that never hid the annoying eye Shusaku? "If this gaijin demented with mushroom head that makes me miss the call Terence prey, I swear on my soul that fractured his penis." Jacko
nice but diverted attention from the dispute that was to emerge between the two different cultures: the delay began to impatiently and that place sucked.
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