Summer is the fair of the obvious, the very essence of banality, the soul of the cliché: for this and for boredom and sweat we are here, with the ass on the sofa, the fan in the face, the tonsils in the fridge , ready to entertain the general public with a brand new and original list of the reasons why this torrid heat, in mid-June, has already bothered us.
Taca band.
- the sweat;
#2. the anxiety that takes you after three steps, and reminds you that you are about to perish;
# 3. the Sun, which clarifies the concept of BURNING FIREBALL (you too);
# 4. the unbearable heaviness of any garment;
# 5. the need to maintain, in spite of this, a public dignity, aka not being able to go around naked or in underwear;
# 6. the outfits of skinny teenagers, who damn them at least in the cold are more covered;
# 7. means of transport in the city; a minute of silence for the agony of every traveler victim of bullying armpit harassment, evridei, evriuer;
# 8. the city, which means asphalt as incandescent as the surface of Mars (Mars: environment not suitable for human survival, ed.);
# 9. the mosquitoes that, attracted by the insistence of this tropical climate, vent their repression by actually going into the middle of nowhere in the Po Valley on your shins and / or near your most hidden gems;
# 10. sweat, behind the knees;
# 11. the difficulty in eating: the introduction of food and the subsequent chewing required to avoid suffocation, and facilitate digestion, cause an increase in body temperature directly proportional to the person’s craving to eat, increasing the risk of heart attack due to stress-related causes , rather than in the heat;
# 12. the inability to eat polenta;
# 13. the lack of breathable air in the time slot 6.38-2.45, which, I mean, are not five minutes eh;
# 14. squeezed by liquids and energies like a sock stretched out since ’98, at night you just want to lay back and roll and snore between fresh linen sheets BUT NO, because your thalamus is the furnace where Native Americans melted metals to build roads via ferratas heading west;
# 15. the supermarkets and the refrigerated aisles, where you enter dripping and come out with penguins and cubed sweat between your buttocks;
# 16. the impossibility of going to places where there is any machinery that generates heat, the diffusion of which corresponds to about 98% of creation;
# 17. sweat under the breasts;
# 18. the cars, invariably in the sun, which are the anticipation of the hell that awaits our cursing souls;
# 19. because it’s really too hot and your brain melts and you can’t do anything at all and in the meantime you sweat and wash but you sweat again and you have to do things but you sweat and curse and blow and sweat and porcaccia the thieving misery also sweats to think then you don’t think BUT ANYWAY SWEET;
# 20. because you will come back to live, and not survive, only in October, when you will return depressed waiting for the heat to return soon, again and again, a lifelong anal fuck.
