not you know another language, off course, that is, they speak English, but confused the words. Although this seems a crazy idea, try, brother, tell a story. On the one hand, poverty, no money, blood pouring (what a lovely word!) And the other big boys dressed gentleman. And no, not a reproach, I hate that, and not for me, my friend. Here I am, supported (metaphorically) in this post, spreading for a savior, for work to get me out of daily torpor, please!, And a few dollars, I need my money, and a fairly secure future. Only post I want to change the color of heaven I'm seeing gray routine of life. Where am I?
For me it is easy to think in two languages, man, how hard is to feel the break on the inside, and you have no home, real home.
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