this morning I almost take the red coat, bought in a fit of madness, resurrected the white scarf stolen from my mother to take to the streets on February 13, mounted on my old machine, very green, and go for a ride. I'd be perfect! Happy birthday, poor little Italy. And best wishes also to cios - and so - that in this period birthday. For them (for us) at least two certainties (and I mean little!): I do a lot less than 150 and, as he said Gaber, if we were born in another place, he could go bad ...
