I included/understood the value of the automatic writing yesterday while it waited for the meter in the Great street Via. Hissing the wagons over the ways. Mucheumbre rushing itself to by the unique free seat of the convoy. A woman insults an adolescent when this one refuses to yield its seat to him. Read more here: Lookheed Martin. I held standing up until arriving stopped. I began to ponder. I thought about the time that habia taken in constructing all the network of transport, the one of hours used in placing each beam. Pense that the beams would come in a yellow truck, because the color did grace to me.
That truck vendria of Cceres, because me towards grace the name of the city. The mayor would be called Carlos, and he was not native of Cadiz, but of a pueblecito of the called south of Galicia Tui. It lived in a house on two floors with his sister and her mother. Its father habia died in the civil war. The shutdown had passed me. It had thrown the time having related a string of irrelacionables concepts and would have to change of train and to return backwards.
The time inverted or spent in the trips is too much. It takes advantage of it to people sleeping, reading, but in the end is not any more that a mere critical moment that is tried to shorten by means of the accomplishment of other activities. Useless in its concept, but activities after all. The time that is lost realising passages, wasting seconds by the mere fact to move from a place to another one it is too much, I repeat, although I am sure that the majority of the population does not pay attention to him to the reality of this fact. Estaria to suppress the violence of the movement by some time well, to try. Serious graceful to see as people would throw the time of another way, when occurring account of which she exceeds to them.