Last summer I was on a course of burning house with writer Alan Pauls , Argentina and hard supporter of the creation of newspapers. Great! I thought, but had already started writing a diary in which things, feelings, places, smells and people he knew were being registered with some "Senorita valuation" to know what it was, today I still do, to par with the blog, although for about a month and a half had not written anything stuck, and today when I was taking a little time to reflect, in the midst of a translation for the past two months has not left me much time for more ... I was reminded of the scene of Rimini, one of the main characters of Pauls book called Past , who also worked as a translator. He was one of those heart-romantic crisis more bitter than grapefruit, and through his work in front of your machine or your computer, do not remember, it stood from his chair rather than to answer the intercom naked or jacking in the bathroom so many times until his semen was iridescent red blood, while waiting for the girl who had occupied the throne of his beheaded Queen, then to further increase the critical level, the man started to leave home to find coca and put to pecueca. Far from identifying with this character ... I've been a bit away ... a book to be translated, some exercise, few outlets (like me so much), almost zero poles, much less TV, short trips back and forth to the refrigerator, lots of love and not so many straws as Rimini have kept me away from here something. Back Greetings to all, oddly enough ... I have missed. See if you now continue with my daily life of master ... can "see" us more ...
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