A guy (I think he said the Moroccan, I forget) has opened a tailor shop next to the bar, upsetting in its own way Pallos the dynamics of the square. A few days ago, came to drink something just to get acquainted with neighbors, he photographed the situation perfectly: "There is a strange atmosphere, everyone seems to expect something to happen." I think it is because of the elections, at least immediately, but it's something that I see a bit 'in everyone's eyes for some time, and has the air of something placed between "I'm a fucking point must necessarily happen something wonderful / terrible "and" omioddio're all gonna die! "
Faces scaffold (also immutable) and long faces (in constant ascent) trotting around as if they had no firm commitments, sometimes get lost in conversation or in distant weak beats, as if trying to imitate the awkward image that usually give him, even at this particular time in which are a bit 'down and have other cocks his head to . But I
mica fool me, I make breakfast these people, do not give me drink: I can see it rarely in a hurry, before instead piled up at the counter and it seemed that every second lost time waiting for their cappuccino was a bleeding, an unacceptable waste of time that should be used to solve the immediate problems of work. Now no one has the air so busy, they look so full of anxiety, but the expected minimum is lost in the void, as if the immediate concern was insignificant and had become more overwhelming, but moved to a distant future. One person in particular struck me. Long ago closed their shop for a few minutes, the exact time to come to get a coffee and go back to work, and often happened that someone was trying to us it the bucket a lot. Now it is no longer the case, is almost nobody left circle and, in addition to common concerns broadly to everyone else, I think I also see a kind of remorse for having previously complained of the workload.
I like this job. I'm not an expert, and certainly my bar is not in a particularly exciting (unless the set of "The Tenant" is not considered as such), but I must say that there are few other jobs which happens to serve on the same day a Nobel Prize [1] and few minutes later a well-known robber / murderess [2] .
Now I do not know what I will do in a year, I know that barely a couple of months I'll be in a tourist village to clear tables (in the end I took), then I have no idea. In any case, if something went wrong, to me the 30 m 3 toilet including my bar does not bring them any leverage.
And amen, I'm tired and I have a sore throat, as I like writing a couple of funny anecdotes, like the weeks that are now only listen to music by blacks and people of the republic of Tuva. But it's too late.
I'll just put this funny shit:
I was tempted to put Nobel prize but I would have betrayed the spirit of this unforgettable classic joke about magicians.
Goodnight.
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[1] : Dario For. He was close with his brother, who apparently lived here for a show. I do not know the details because I have not spoken, because it is not full of things to say. Eventually I'll fuck a saw, but he was about to say. (Came seriously, eh!)
[2] : A classic, of those that are older sun in uncrowded roads or rolled into condominiums. With a victim something went wrong and he strangled merdaccia the old woman with a rope. Has been done a couple of years and is now free to order at the counter from me. I still have the newspaper clipping somewhere at home (no, not on the wall as the psaicopatici who take the law itself in spite of the authorities).
