I have been there, went back home, and came to this new place. It is not to portrait qualifications about my habit that I write this blog, but to share the different experiences in my common place. A “pucho” is a cigarette according to the orthodoxy of Uruguayan slang. A pucho is not much although a lot happens as its incandescent glare awaits the sole of my heavy foot, the coldness of the concrete wall, or the ultimate tip-taped flick that casts it off flipping in the air to close parenthesis. To-day, without referring to the obvious one, my favorite cigarette happens around midnight between the brick building, the forest, and the Greek Theatre.
el conejo dice "aco".
ya estaba harto de pensar en que decir casi que no tenía más respuestas..se las preguntaba él mismo. se las preguntaban otros.
A todo ésto, no se las respondía nadie.
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