While watching the masters of capitalism through the eyes of lamb slaughtered the Chinese, which they say legends is one of the few communist economies of the world and the most prosperous, although it sounds contradictory, there is one, a Hong Kong named Pang Ho-Cheung and decides to roll like a Young mileurista discover the difficulties in obtaining the floor of her life and her dream full of blood and guts: Wai lei ah yut ho dor ( Dream -home international title, "2010), is announcing that barbarism Asia also copied the Western habits. And in writing misconduct I am not referring to the star leaving a trail going redder and water than the Idi Amin Dada, or another camera Farandulera decide to exercise their profession against his country's political majority, if not the disorder of urban growth, the high cost of housing, it is impossible to shelter you in Chicago Madrid and Beijing, under a roof unless you win the lottery - if not impossible to play! - or leave as a legacy to your grandchildren the last mortgage payment. And in China oranges are not oranges as we think or would like them to be, that libraries are filled with stories by, for tall tales.
While television networks of half the world tomorrow morning as April 29 2011, not as synonymous or impossible-distant future, and press the next day, April 30, sure, "threatened with extra syrup and sugar, the wedding of the eldest son of the heir to the throne of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland a commoner, the other girl either high aspirations among Windsor, note that I did not put "and" but "with", otherwise it would match their social positions, and that they have monarchies down to the streets I do not think so: "I remember another story reading for children in which the sad prince riding away from the palace to see if he would cure his harrowing journey through the lands of his father. Healing arrived to find a poor underling and beautiful, but big-hearted and full of goodness, who would make his wife, another story, another: just remember the Ius primae noctis, Norman Chrysagon see the Crue is infatuated Bronwyn the blonde in The war lord (Lord of War, 1965), F. Schaffner. The truth is that made choosing a partner, the trick to make the suitors to sleep on a pile of soft mattresses hiding a pea under them, contemporary occurrence of a distressed gentleman, always seemed more poetic. And it should be, because in our days is given over the vulgarity, as in the first fictional account and paper of this paragraph: if the Prince of Spain, sad after several failures and the negatives of their parents, turned on the TV and stumbled upon a news presenter dressed like a perfect girlfriend, the Briton goes and picks one that passed end there and the media looking mother who lost in an accident more than one egg to another egg, the time and meddlesome periodistillas will see to that hard.
As the world turns and people care about the lives of outsiders, the famous, the gladiators Nadal, Casillas and Alonso, and Federer, Messi and Hamilton, a-eme- that reminds me that the devil does not rest that companies have no place in old Europe, that layoffs are coming, life projects that are still truncating most of the time through no fault of self, nature, logic. And directs me to call that someone who until yesterday was traveling as if the world fit in his eyes and reason in his head, that terror is not always dressed in military clothing or communist star, just as happiness is not a dish pea or a husband with the crown in the closet. Another life that slides downhill and live a present that begins: Once upon a time there was ...
While television networks of half the world tomorrow morning as April 29 2011, not as synonymous or impossible-distant future, and press the next day, April 30, sure, "threatened with extra syrup and sugar, the wedding of the eldest son of the heir to the throne of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland a commoner, the other girl either high aspirations among Windsor, note that I did not put "and" but "with", otherwise it would match their social positions, and that they have monarchies down to the streets I do not think so: "I remember another story reading for children in which the sad prince riding away from the palace to see if he would cure his harrowing journey through the lands of his father. Healing arrived to find a poor underling and beautiful, but big-hearted and full of goodness, who would make his wife, another story, another: just remember the Ius primae noctis, Norman Chrysagon see the Crue is infatuated Bronwyn the blonde in The war lord (Lord of War, 1965), F. Schaffner. The truth is that made choosing a partner, the trick to make the suitors to sleep on a pile of soft mattresses hiding a pea under them, contemporary occurrence of a distressed gentleman, always seemed more poetic. And it should be, because in our days is given over the vulgarity, as in the first fictional account and paper of this paragraph: if the Prince of Spain, sad after several failures and the negatives of their parents, turned on the TV and stumbled upon a news presenter dressed like a perfect girlfriend, the Briton goes and picks one that passed end there and the media looking mother who lost in an accident more than one egg to another egg, the time and meddlesome periodistillas will see to that hard.
As the world turns and people care about the lives of outsiders, the famous, the gladiators Nadal, Casillas and Alonso, and Federer, Messi and Hamilton, a-eme- that reminds me that the devil does not rest that companies have no place in old Europe, that layoffs are coming, life projects that are still truncating most of the time through no fault of self, nature, logic. And directs me to call that someone who until yesterday was traveling as if the world fit in his eyes and reason in his head, that terror is not always dressed in military clothing or communist star, just as happiness is not a dish pea or a husband with the crown in the closet. Another life that slides downhill and live a present that begins: Once upon a time there was ...
Idi Amin Dada 
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