I returned a few minutes from home. A detour up for Facebook to greet a new guest-adept and here I am.
lovely evening that just ended, we had to be three but we ended up in two ... No, no, nothing of what you're thinking: three boys, the band's (Sam) hole to be understood, but gave Mircus packages and then be a good boy I went to get a lesson in musical Darius to launch in a few hours of classes , as we say here in Genoa, discussions more or less (most less than that) as well as some healthy philosophical view on the situation of the capital-vacation Liguria.
A jump to the "Mac" (today is the day of the diet weekly prize so ... McFlurry Magnum with chocolate and mandorleeeeeee Yeaaaaaahhhhhhh ...) and then up and down the streets, lighting up: follow the advice of fuses and Saretta and decide to go see "The Millionaire", without knowing what it was about the least.
stage at Cineplex, not in the program!
Mircus informs us that the bill is in the City. Well ...
... But where the hell is the City? We end up asking for clarification from the conductress Ariston, and arrive at 22:27 in front of our Eldorado submerged in the Old Town. A Look at the billboard and into the race: the film is scheduled for 22:30 (hit in the ass!)
will not say anything about this film truly remarkable, if not that deserves to be seen by everyone, without exception.
Personally, the main message of the film - which gives the title to my post - could not be more appropriate for the period that I am living: a period of mail that I never wrote, that I would never have sent messages, proposals that I I kept that dream for me and I kept still (who knows as yet) in the drawer.
Everything is written, but we have the pen in his hand ... I do not remember ever having had a winter so full of anticipation for spring to come: work, theater, in my 2009 short :-)
Lift up your glasses with 16 days late then,
good movie and see you soon on this My yellow-black space
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