La oficina de empleo apenas acababa de abrir, pero en el pasillo de espera ya había un grupo de ocho personas sudorosas haciendo cola en silencio para ser atendidos. En la puerta de entrada, una cucaracha de imponentes dimensiones nos recibía tumbada panza arriba.
Are you new at blogging? Do you want to write about your hobbies, work/business, or just about your life; but when you put your fingers on the keyboard, don’t know where to start from?
These book titles are fake, they don’t exist. However, I believe they should. Because I’m pretty sure we all know someone that would need to read any of them. That’s why I couldn’t help getting in front of my laptop, opening Adobe Illustrator and giving free rein to my creativity (and sarcasm).
I put my diary in the toaster and poured some coffee in my shoes.
I measured the speed of clouds and hung my raincoat under the shower.
I left home when the alarm clock was still singing.
I took a selfie in the lift just before my colours disappeared completely….
There is something romantic about traveling by bus in the evening. You feel like a postmodern version of Caspar Friedrich’s ‘Wanderer above the Sea of Fog’. The horizon is road, lights and concrete, and everything is wrapped in the beautiful evening darkness.
A toddler crying his lungs out, The persistent horn of the gas truck, The loud radio of the neighbour, A heated conversation in a foreign language, Machines working in a faraway construction site, A dog barking relentlessly, And an idiot revving up his motorbike like his life depended on it.