weekend where we left Madrid at 32 º, the first one did not need to put the heating on my playground site, where I had a chat night with a friend and use sunscreen in the morning to scrub the decks, we took a snack and took the paddles, we take the sun and we were on the swings, which I had coffee with two friends (other) and they gave me something like a wayfarer red because I forgot my sunglasses at home and also the camera and I wanted to do a route of 14 km on foot but could not and I crack on Saturday night to continue the party That same weekend I went to bed every night and every spare moment I accompanied a book filled me, the one after "The yellow eyes of crocodiles" (which ultimately became unbelievable), "Against the North Wind" (not finished) and "Every seven waves" (which ends as it had to end), I was thrilled that I believed it entirely, which I identified a bit with each character, which made me mourn, who seemed well written, I enjoyed from the first page to last.
had long been a book I did not like much.
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hate blogger and my hands.
24 .- B1.
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