The penniless clarinet playing under my window TRAL 7 and 10 every night seems to have taken a minute's pause coffee. The room suddenly fell silent and dark, and I got distracted for a moment the sun fell down. The days passed in Geneva in a second, the workload is crazy, and good cause is always an excuse to feel guilty if I take half an hour lunch break. And then when I go back home that have a nest of thoughts, and walking with his thumbnail between his teeth undecided whether to chew or just sheared clean off. So, just to vent about something all those thoughts that swarm my mind and make me feel like a spoiled bitch who walks to Geneva with the designer bags and sunglasses to feed a village in Zimbabwe for a week.
Then when evening comes, how nice walk in the Jardin Anglais and stop dancing techno trance gl with friends who ask, then you've saved Africa today? Enno dick, I'd be here in berms your cocktail? How do you forget the Sudanese refugees in Chad, the rapes in Guinea, malaria in Côte d'Ivoire. That Africa occupies my whole day, every day and is a pleasure, but now?
Then when evening comes, how nice walk in the Jardin Anglais and stop dancing techno trance gl with friends who ask, then you've saved Africa today? Enno dick, I'd be here in berms your cocktail? How do you forget the Sudanese refugees in Chad, the rapes in Guinea, malaria in Côte d'Ivoire. That Africa occupies my whole day, every day and is a pleasure, but now?
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