that happens ...
decide to make a custom transport, take the baby stroller, load the printer well packaged, backpacker with fan (clearly visible, because there goes all mica). The people look curious ... with the same awe that you look at a motor load of mom, child 8 years on end stuck with baby with him (in flesh) tuner. Boy of 25 kilos (hopefully) shoulder bag that carries as many pounds of flour. Old woman with three more follow-Bambocci carrelletto spending nearly filled tray flips and head to bring the bread in the oven.
decide to park the stroller and meet your friends along the way ... all children, your friends. Because in the end, I will tell you, are better than their parents. "Mujahid wa ... since lkora Jdid?" Ok, ok ... Insha Allah I'll take one as soon as possible ... as long as you let me play a little. "Mujahidaaaaa!" Here is Fatima Zahra with a beautiful baby in her arms, oh mother, to greet almost threw it on the ground. With her is another good friend of mine ('na baby, of course), after a short dialogue (how are you, what you do, where to go) I ask you nicely to repeat "Hello" : the perfect pronunciation, asking if I speak Italian. Treasury's Aunt "... ana talyaniya!". It asks me if I know this sister who lives in Italy. Yes, because we have little in Italy, we all know a little bit short.
decide to call the cab Maroc Telecom, but here's the tail. Ask who is the last?! Naaaaaa ... mica is used by ste parties. Like the time, the pharmacy ... I was at the beginning, yes, a short story (naive) immigrants. I keep una corretta distanza per riservatezza ed educazione. Fu così che mi passarono davanti in tre. Viva la furbizia made in Italy. Alla cabina il baffuto si trattiene mezz'ora, componendo mille numeri, quasi lo facesse apposta per dispetto nei nostri confronti....oh, ma non vedi che c'è gente?! Il ragazzo in motorino sbuffa ogni 2 minuti mentre la signora si appoggia al muro, esausta dall'attesa.
Io me ne frego....penso che sono cose che capitano.