Some times I self-admit certain flashbacks get me paralyzed, when you watch it's like a parallelogram: see?
The other morning walking down the streets saw a man who looked like Ossie Osborne, totally moving his head assholically and sniffing cocaine; he wore a pastel jacket *Levi's* which was not washed since -I guess- 1974, then a recurrent thinking came to my head, which was already bürning: "is not this unidentified flying element, this UFE, an individual I saw somewhere, somewhat, someday, anyhow?"
The personage kept walking, the morning was plausibly cold though it was July, close to the corner he left some small plastic bag fall from his hands, a while later I heard the sirens of the police: into the supermarket old ladies commented something about someone or anyone; I realized the scones I had in a bag were quite old and rancid: like turds of caniche.
