. There was little I scraped my knees, pretending to juggle skating (I'm a troglodyte on foot, the alternative means of transport not suit me). Ice cream and mother screaming hysterically because I have a special slot on the side to put the ice cream, while the new complement of Benetton was apparently not a viable alternative (mom lying, even now my mesh Benetton is happily married with ice cream, waffles, pancakes, slush, milk shakes and I also believe once a strawberry with chocolate, but it did not happen in Prato, and then is another story.)
. As a teenager, was the stage with the classic Morosetti duty (now teenagers sbaciucchianti repel me).
. From post-adolescent rebellious phase of my 20 years emo (I had 20 years of emo) I've learned to ride a skateboard to that familiar with Michelle and Fe. One of our best lines, I think one afternoon in May, is undoubtedly "Bury me in Prato" (and she is not even in Padua, how much love!).
. Now (Old?) Is the stage of my returned Padua. Lawn of Valley has seen the best and the worst of the worst of me (no, wait, that's Bo '). So there is a relationship of mutual respect and tolerance between me and the grass, which, mind you, I have never stained jeans even after it had rained (you see I'm a troglodyte?). Much love.
. Belgic I returned to earth and I'm enjoying (working) the last day of Brussels, before moving to Paris. For more nice if the tenant should send us the contract because I would be even happier come Saturday.
. I finished Persuasion. Oh, Jane, why did you die? I think the only way left for me to continue to be read JaneAustenare Pride and Prejudice and Mr. Darcy or Zombies, Vampire. Mon Dieu de la France.
.EN . I know, when I go to Padua I post only (or almost) pictures of me in Prato della Valle, me and Quentin in Prato della Valle, me and Fe in Prato della Valle ... I actually have pictures with almost anyone in Prato della Valle. But be careful what you say about my Prato, it is an oversensitive subject for me.
.When I was little I used to scrape my knees, pretending to master the fine art of rollerskating (I'm a troglodyte on foot, alternative means of locomotion I do not comprehend). Ice cream, and my mother screaming hysterically because I do have a special slot on my face in which to put the ice cream, while the new Benetton outfit she just bought me was apparently not a suitable alternative (treacherous mom, even now my Benetton t-shirts happily marry with ice cream, waffles, frittelle, slush, milk shakes and I also believe once a strawberry with chocolate, but it did not happen in Prato, which then makes it another story.)
.As a teenager, it was where you would go with your middle/high school sweetheart (now teenagers eating each other's faces repel me).
.In the post-adolescent rebellious emo phase of me aged 20 (yes, when I was 20 I was kind of emo, so what) I've learned to ride a skateboard there, with Michelle and Fe. One of our best lines, I think it was one afternoon in May, is undoubtedly "Bury me in Prato" (and she is not even from Padua, how much love!).
.Now (in my elderly years?) it is where I first go when I come to visit mom and dad in Padua. Prato della Valle has seen the best and the worst of the worst of me (no, wait, that was in front of the Bo '). So there is a relationship of mutual respect and tolerance between me and that grass, which, mind you, has never stained my jeans even after it had rained (you see I'm a troglodyte?). Love love.
.I returned in Belgian ground and I'm enjoying (working) the last day of Brussels, before moving to Paris. It would be way nicer if the tenant should send us the contract because I happen to start working on Tuesday. Uh la la.
.I finished Persuasion. Oh, Jane, why did you die? I think the only way left for me to continue janeaustening is Pride and Prejudice or Mr. Darcy or Zombies, Vampire. Mon Dieu de la France.
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