Rugged Working

This day wasn't particularly fantastic. There were long hours of sleep, bad news about football glories, no fantastic aces, maybe the leftovers of potential and distant dreams.

Although I look cool this way, unshaven, I depend on looks to reformulate my own image of self-maturity. That doesn't mean I'm turning senior class, that means I'm paying my last quota for coming of age. I think I have been in doubt for what seems like centuries, mostly because I refuse to pay what I don't want to. But it's a debt I must pay sooner or later. And the sooner, the better.

Two hours or three of intense exercise solving, with the cooperation of a smiling and clean note and the potentiality of having some debts paid next week or the one after (more concrete ones, I'm afraid)

And again the sweet balance of the week gone, in what seemed like seconds with no profit for the geeky me, once again. The fairies must be the most skilled thieves I've ever seen, shame on their cousins, the gypsies. I wish I had the persistence of the waves and the fist of iron for being more concrete and effective at this point of my life. Stuff you've got to pay for being who you really are.