I'm tired of Neruda. It not only his face and his name is, spectral, in every corner of Valpo, but today, well after mearle beach house in Isla Negra and after fighting with boaters because we saw the faces of jerks and wanted to charge us ten times more for a boat ride across the bay. Yes, after fighting until satiety, F with them, Child C running from actual violence, there, next to water turbulence hitting the dock. When one shouted that denounce Lola for taking advantage of their pockets, not to let out the collective boat cheap. After all these circumstances, we ended up in the other house of Pablito in La Sebastiana. They say it is twenty-five houses in Chile. For me it is an exaggeration. But I shut my mouth. It pays to win laureates, che, no case. Luckily, oh, to die gloriously coincidence!, Despite the sharp turns through the hills, between the heads poking your gums decayed, fortunately, yes, we ended up in the place where we had to meet Nadia and already , in both sickness and go from one side to another, could not remember where it was. Child C said that, at least not in vain, while the courtyard you pees Pablito Foundation as the afternoon the beach in Isla Negra, built and expanded tourist alongside, above and below the original home has almost disappeared. He came not to fart. No. And especially, because Nadia is not Neruda, and thanks to Chile.lé.lé.lé.
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