The tent cities are closing. One after another, are sending their guests in tents closer to the (was) the center of the city, among them there is also mine. Yesterday I went to lunch at the Japanese and back, sated and satisfied, I found myself in front of a pickup truck full of nets and mattresses and around this time that two pimps took them around. Initially I thought they were removing the beds, then talking to a girl I knew that we move most of the people who do not seek alternative to the tent. Our tent is small and well-organized. Now we common people we all know, after months we have begun to accept, not to speak or go out together. We hope that this balance, a lot, too insecure, does not lack. Why am mad problems. Each of them are contingent
tears and I wonder what will be the last. We share XXII, the last week of September should be the XXVI. Who knows what will happen. I would not have to live my life in weeks, not find myself thinking "Damn, tomorrow is Monday, Emmo I do?" I'd like to know what will become of me and my life in the medium term. Because I feel the need to reconstruct and rebuild my points of reference, whether old or new, but I want them, expect them. Otherwise my legs would not know what to do.
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