was written in the mists of time.
only the fate and its dire adversity, only the humanitarian efforts of Gandhi with the wig on that of Camping Abruzzo (now moved to Rome for the occasion to celebrate and thank the government, as reported by the national news, for cruises and donate their dentures) are sent in time and made it so hard the culmination of this wonderful story of friendship. But as the most dazzling stories with happy endings, as in Muccino's greatest hits, like a wet dream of Mario Jordan, like in a song by Max Pezzali, as Federer and Wawrinka won the medal for China in the doubles event, the handsome, tall and tanned and Friday at the end of Arcore were left, they looked into his eyes shiny with excitement and hugged each other. "Good to see you my friend," an ecstatic Obama "I told you that of the negro and the horse? " the response of the Premier moved. Needless to insinuate
eroded (?) Envy that "good to see my friend" is typical of the garbage collector from contacting American slang crack dealer (no offense to the two categories, mind you), dreaming up improbable depressing economic and political interests by U.S. to maintain good relations with Italy and even more grim irony that a leader of a custom of treating guests from it is from the Netherlands Antilles and Belize, is just a habit and not another reason to raise the eyes of believers even more in the highest, their God of greasepaint.
It would perhaps be to reassess our subversive, the great and indispensable figure, the otherwise Dario Baldan Bembo.
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