Cagg Part One

The girls here in Cagliari are overwhelmingly beautiful, handicappingly so.  I call them girls because I am here at Poetto Beach on a Friday, and they are here, not at work, which makes me assume that they do not have jobs, which makes me assume that they are girls, not women.  Female tourists, of course, do not qualify as fully grown because, as we all know by now, those that traveled are deficient.  It should also be noted that they do not seem to go into the water, though they are at the beach.  That one has metal pieces on the boob part of her bathing dress, and I wonder if they rust in the water (the boobs).  I wonder if she notices me looking at her.  Hey lips are thin, eyes light, skin dark, and her belly button is certainly vertical.  I feel alone.

Last week, I took a break break the brickwork to take a trip to a mountain town with my friend Matteo Arisci.  He was going to a Literary Festival out there with some friends, and he intoduced me to them.  One of them is also called Matteo, and this Matteo invited me to stay in his apartment, to sleep in his heb.  He is the consiglieri of the Democratic Party of Sardegna, and he introduced me to the daughter of the owner of Tiscali, a massive Italian telecommunications corporation, who is also the former president of this island.  I am not sure of what she does or has done, but she sure is purty.  One night, Matteo A. was teaching me bad words in Sardo, and she catches him, full of scorn.  Earlier that day, he and the other Matteo were changing in the street, and the ex-president himself walked by and saw them both in their underwear.  This is amusing to me because Matteo really respects both of them, and after this day, they probably do not thing the same for him, though they should.  Speaking of which, Matteo is going to pick me up for a concert in a moment, so I should go.  More in a bit.


~ by nearhelsinki on July 8, 2011.

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