on deck waving a white flag. The body temperature of bluesman reached 40.1 °: In short, there was a reason why not make it Friday to get out of bed and barely answered with gloomy grumbling. For myself, indomitable nurse-rounder, I surrendered to the thermometer only after I had fallen asleep between the pages of a terrifying lesson on German folk festivals of the flesh: I found it to be arrived at an altitude of 38.9 °, temperaturina respectable, in short, there was a reason for the night my brain was desperately gasping for vacuum around an undefined and intolerable invitation to appear on the Rathausplatz all for the opening concert of 16.30.
For now survive chewing slowly - because almost no appetite - the stores acquired before the collapse. Sealed in our military hospital virulent, immobilized under a blanket policy, I, the bluesman and the cat we have full of hope before the stereo on the terraces as a time of sanatoriums before guests pristine peaks.
Sooner or later it will pass, no?
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