Cuando no hay techos no hay lluvia. Es decir si la hay, pero uno no se da cuenta de que viene. Como con el árbol. A él le probaron que el retumbo está apesar de la apariencia parcialmente extraña para tan agotador presagio.
I think you noticed it already. John is as a matter of fact and ordinary name commonly used by singers and actors. My granpa, John´s former dad, was neither one of them. He was a farmer boy. He was a student. He won a scholarship. He had a girlfriend. The scholarship lead to a bankrupt and the girlfriend lead to John. It seems to him that his life has been as brief as a ten minutes recess in a job that someone keeps because at home the one who is loved expects. John, John, John, John. Now ill and old he sometimes sings it. Singing has never been that beautiful since a similar song was hum for me. This one was born with hair up to the eyes showing the hurry of grabbing something. So the song told. So my mom remembers. So senior confuses.
Faulkner was Frat boy.
The afternoon was closing clear and a few trees were shaking. By the time the bell bang six, his mouth started fast. Lean on the bedroom’s door, Red noticed that everybody was actually listening. Someone asked him to move a bit and passed by. At six ten, a couple of more guys entered the room attracted by the story of a dead horse on a supper table. Red went to Tommy’s just because according to the tradition, there ought to be cheese and wine. Red is his finest friend. He knew why Tom speaks fast and what the horse stands for.