now I feel it, degradation is mine, my dirty skin, my hair muddy. Remember the days of slavery? I never step taken. I'm not broken shoes protect the feet. The fingers, the fingers are slaughtered by frostbite, and dirt does not help. I built a house, comp. You were saying: You'll never have a house of your, we will never succeed, do not earn enough, there is no work. Instead I have it. And I did it with my hands. I call it the igloo. Has the structure of an igloo, but no ice, no ice comp. The smell? You can get used to it. You have to be part of everything at the beginning looking for answers, ask questions, your body defends itself, it reacts. Then you feel bad. An infinite pain in his stomach, not in the lungs. A kind of global chronic vomiting repressed. But the man is the most adaptable animal that exists, people living in the center of the igloo, it is adapted, they have nothing but snow, we here at Palermo we have? Rubbish. We must adapt ourselves, comp. In the rubbish we have to live and do it in our igloo of garbage. My nails do not come now to the scalp, the layer of fat insulates me cute, I do not need the cap, I do not need to delete it. I want to live in purity, comp. Eliminates the unnecessary layers, I have eliminated many until now. Remember the days of love? Even one unnecessary, comp. It should be deleted, to be one with Palermo, with the garbage. I want to be the scrotum of Palermo, the more I miss your kisses, I miss your blows.
