The mood is a reflection of time and fatigue of the preparations for our little dance around the comic is already being felt, annihilating passing any kind of patience and reason.
at 14h48 on Saturday, while torrents of rain bury the idea of a pleasant autumn in this region green, green, green, more than reason, I eat a chocolate cookie with a glass of milk before the window, trying to understand why people run and run around me, that I do not understand anything in their races, at that moment resonate gently from my speakers the first keyboard chords of "With A Little Luck " of Macca and his clique, throwing me about thirty years ago, the top floor of a housing project Dole, alone with my mother one Saturday afternoon to watching the rain fall down on people who, really, since long run. I would not have been more surprised if it were someone other than me who chose this album inherited another life.
Time passes, there are some people that we take, there are also some records that will likely be streamed to the end and then people running. It is not so much after all.
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