"Yes, Gabriel. I no longer remember. Noble name. And 'the angel who brought the announcement to Mary. One of the three archangels along with Raphael and Michael. The mother of the man made a monstrous mistake: or maybe he was being crushed by the weight of that name. sit Nomen omen : your name will be a good omen. It was a disaster, however. Everything about that person was thinking about the baseness: the meanness emanated from him as a deformation of the body that no suit ever be able to hide. Was it the light of the eyes or the way they constantly wringing her hands or whistle that, due to a particular form of acquired in childhood asthma in the swamps and malarial where he was born. He lived in perpetual conviction that the sacrifice of mankind: a kind of god intended victim of a cynical and sarcastic that he had chosen as a scapegoat. And he did not deny anyone his contempt. It was postal clerk in a mountain village in the heart of Abruzzo, where I lived for a time. I found there to use while deciding what to do with my life. Committed by a grocer. In order to survive. Gabriel came to buy cheese and salami. Slipped into the shop, a large room dark and dusty, when the shadows became more dense. I could feel her hoarse whistle before I see her face. "Firmin," he said, "Firmino, the usual." And he added immediately: "today luck black. You know how many parcels are shipped in this country of fools? More than goats! It seems that every animal has relatives all over the world ... And that's never send? Heavy packages, as sins. It touches me to take them all: from the door to the basket, the basket on the door, the door to the van. I've got I'm not too old, Firmino. You see how I am? Secco. And they laugh at me. The packages will ship only to make me sweat. I know, I know. Do not shake your head. I see them in the face when they are there with those boulders. They face red, swollen, dirty. Have you ever seen how dirty? All! The pharmacist, who does so much the gentleman. But he too is dirty. And do not say hello to me when I walk past his shop and he is there, the door to smoke. What? You can not live without medicine? I, his medication, and do not ever buy! Mai, Fermin you understand? I with the herbs I care. And then I do not care because they are never sick and always there is nothing that can help me. Mail instead: How can you live without that? How they would send their parcels to those without e-mail? Damn them and their parcels! Firmino, you gave me the tasty cheese?
Eh, Firmino. If you were not there in this country ... you had to invent. Blessed be the day you arrived. About Firmino, where are you from? You told me, but I do not remember. I never sent for packets you! Thanks Firmino. I hate the parcel myself. "I said nothing. It was the only defense. But the silence may be judged, if you really want. Then they dragged out of the shop and stood on the threshold and those beady little eyes-yes, gleaming like the skin of an eel-radiography of the square. A wretch, I tell you. He had accompanied his wife to the cemetery was a white envelope. He had it sent! Or so they said. Not that the beat: even though the reality is I can not rule it out. It was his poison of hatred that ran his every move. A soul of those who hold the list of damages. Rancour, who had the courage to vent, it's multiplied in as a virus. And then overflowed. He was witty: there was no sentence that does not contain a rotten aftertaste. If you said "good evening", accompanied him with a menacing tone deaf, and with a gesture of the head sideways, like he was twisting on itself to attack, to fashion a rattlesnake, and you seemed to say, "that is your last night. " His wife was slowly evaporated, it was made clear: consumption, like a candle. Until we had nothing left and had gone out, white on gray diffuse sheets. "Wronged me," cried Gabriel, 'made me wrong even dying. He left me alone: \u200b\u200band as I do now with the house and a daughter to marry? ". The daughter was married and alone in a big hurry, just after the death of his mother. Had run away, I say. Believe me I know how you can escape. Perhaps he had made nonsense before the wedding to get rid of the father: the terror that had killed herself. "Shameless! The first person that happened to throw!" Commented Gabriel, "what a man can be that? A sales representative: of women's underwear. Mascalzone! Like the fact she's eye candy here, who knows how many women ... worse than a sailor. This should not have let me just Cristina. I am ruined. In the country say it all: a useless girl, light. And that? will make you suffer. Ah, but I'm a good father, I. I relocating from them when I finish to send parcels. And then I fix it all. I know I have my responsibilities. And I will put all right. "He must have communicated his intentions to this child, because neither she nor her husband became more see the village and say no more to write home also changed his father, for fear of having it fall on me suddenly. I was still young then. listened to him. A grim soul so I have not met. But I still doubt that the fault was not his own. Who knows, an injury suffered in his youth, perhaps asthma experienced as an undeserved punishment. If anyone had been listening to him since then ... Sometimes I seemed to see the breath differently: as a prisoner who tried spirit to force the lock and get out. Backlit seemed excited to see on his face and another man who wanted to get rid crying. It seemed that the features themselves stretch for any hint blurred, most mild. A second. Maybe even less. Then he returned that look fractured and bad. I do not know what has happened to. After a few years I went from that country. I had come to boredom that sun that poured tired lazy '.
Eh, Firmino. If you were not there in this country ... you had to invent. Blessed be the day you arrived. About Firmino, where are you from? You told me, but I do not remember. I never sent for packets you! Thanks Firmino. I hate the parcel myself. "I said nothing. It was the only defense. But the silence may be judged, if you really want. Then they dragged out of the shop and stood on the threshold and those beady little eyes-yes, gleaming like the skin of an eel-radiography of the square. A wretch, I tell you. He had accompanied his wife to the cemetery was a white envelope. He had it sent! Or so they said. Not that the beat: even though the reality is I can not rule it out. It was his poison of hatred that ran his every move. A soul of those who hold the list of damages. Rancour, who had the courage to vent, it's multiplied in as a virus. And then overflowed. He was witty: there was no sentence that does not contain a rotten aftertaste. If you said "good evening", accompanied him with a menacing tone deaf, and with a gesture of the head sideways, like he was twisting on itself to attack, to fashion a rattlesnake, and you seemed to say, "that is your last night. " His wife was slowly evaporated, it was made clear: consumption, like a candle. Until we had nothing left and had gone out, white on gray diffuse sheets. "Wronged me," cried Gabriel, 'made me wrong even dying. He left me alone: \u200b\u200band as I do now with the house and a daughter to marry? ". The daughter was married and alone in a big hurry, just after the death of his mother. Had run away, I say. Believe me I know how you can escape. Perhaps he had made nonsense before the wedding to get rid of the father: the terror that had killed herself. "Shameless! The first person that happened to throw!" Commented Gabriel, "what a man can be that? A sales representative: of women's underwear. Mascalzone! Like the fact she's eye candy here, who knows how many women ... worse than a sailor. This should not have let me just Cristina. I am ruined. In the country say it all: a useless girl, light. And that? will make you suffer. Ah, but I'm a good father, I. I relocating from them when I finish to send parcels. And then I fix it all. I know I have my responsibilities. And I will put all right. "He must have communicated his intentions to this child, because neither she nor her husband became more see the village and say no more to write home also changed his father, for fear of having it fall on me suddenly. I was still young then. listened to him. A grim soul so I have not met. But I still doubt that the fault was not his own. Who knows, an injury suffered in his youth, perhaps asthma experienced as an undeserved punishment. If anyone had been listening to him since then ... Sometimes I seemed to see the breath differently: as a prisoner who tried spirit to force the lock and get out. Backlit seemed excited to see on his face and another man who wanted to get rid crying. It seemed that the features themselves stretch for any hint blurred, most mild. A second. Maybe even less. Then he returned that look fractured and bad. I do not know what has happened to. After a few years I went from that country. I had come to boredom that sun that poured tired lazy '.
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