selling my soul en route to the Wild West.
May 28th 2004 Relaxing by Lake Como, when I am approached by two young men in shirt and tie, both clutching black books under their arms. Shit! They’re after my soul! I try not to make eye contact, but they’re onto me. They say something in Italian, but my blank expression makes them change tactic "do you speak English?" (Their American). " No" I reply instinctively in my panic, but apparently in an English
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fabricio
non-member comment
po mos e fol?
mbrekulli.