It’s too hot to breath. Too hot to move. Too hot to live… This fucking humidity makes you sweet like a pig. A micro rainforest is growing out of my keyboard at this very moment as I’m typing this. Fungi, anyone? There’s no chance of escaping to the beach during the week, so enjoy the unbearable torture in the stone jungle. And waiting for the subway, deep underground, is like, well, being in hell with an added luxury – a smell of sweet and old socks.
And as mister Bush is enjoying the hidden & unhidden treasures of Slovenia, and probably his new bike by now, as I’ve been informed, I’m looking forward to the British Invasions. Well, just one. Invader. Made in Europe. England. London!! I’m sure we’ll find other interesting & enjoyable stuff to do rather than just sipping Earl Gray and eating cookies. What I truly doubt is that there’ll be a blog about it. Even I feel the need to turn the censure button on from time to time. For the sake of my own safety, because having too much fun can be perceived as illegal for some people.
And fun we shall have!
Talk to ya’ll when i’m back to reality.