I walked past twice and the family was stricking up poses of marital bliss - first of a dinner in front of the TV (dad w/ a beer), and active mentoring of the offspring later.
That brought along the (existential?) guestion of my own marital bliss and brand new appartment. Where the fuck are they?
Where is it that I belong? Will I ever know. Does anybody know? And if they do, how does it feel?
Latvia hit me in the head with Soviet style shops, rude sales staff, idiot drivers and traffic arrangements way beyond comprehension.
WTF?
WTF?
What The Fuck?
Riga, you got to do waaay better than that. I'm expecting for you to do much better. Than that.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment