Litle friend, tell me it, what is there of new?
Published on Sunday, August 2nd 1998 on The San Juan StarIt makes time that we do not communicate. I wait that you are well. The last time that we saw ourselves it was on the beach of Crabs. You were with your Eve from Quarry eating little cods and drinking medals. She was very good. You told me she worked at the Gasket of Environmental Quality. I remember when a wave took her and for little took off the upper part of her dress of bath. For little it left her in baseball. Straws that fall upon the milk, but the little garter was worth the sorrow. And talking about gartering, my neighbor bought himself ones binoculars. At the apartment of forehead moved in a little mother who is tremendous. He is always gartering her. It seems like she ails of too much heat and she sleeps with her persians open.
I imagine that you have maintained yourself at day in the things of the island. Everything is plus or minus equal; the same intercoursing of always. As they say in the TV commercial; "the same...; the same..." The last two Mondays have been days of party. In Puerto Rico there are too many days of party. My breadfruit, who is supervisor of cleanliness in a factory, says that so many days of party have him a swelled egg. He works for hour. His wife, without embargo, is enchanted by days of party. She is runner of good roots and is able to teach many properties in the days of party and makes good pennies, while her husband peels himself in them. That has him half toasted.
The other day I carried my neighbors to the beach at Fat Sugar Cane. You know, the one near Whale Bay, at the south. We passed it of the most good, at weighing of that the little boy was stung by a living water. Less bad that it was not one of the very bad ones. There are many living waters different, and some can be very dangerous. My grandmother used to say that one should not take a bath in the beach on the months that have "R’s" in them, because in those months there are many living waters. As a taste of how the times have changed, now living waters come out of fountains and have become a religion.
Did you hear about the strike of the telephone? At the end it ended, but It ended like the rosary of the dawn. Some strikers fell on top to a cameraman from a television season. They were insisting that it was a strike "of the town" , but the "town" was not really there. Some of the strikers who were blowed by the police had to go to the Bottom of the Sure of the State to get cure. Almost all the policemen were wearing vests at taste of bullets.
A press person asked the governor if he thought his icon was at its worst moment owed to the strike. He answered with a famous line from the movie "What the Wind Took Away": "Francamente, querida, yo no doy una represa." I do not know why so many people took out point of his remark. After everything, he was probably talking of Carraizo. At purpose, that same day they drank some pictures of him under water. They also drank him some videos
In how much of your alma mater, the clock at the tower of the university in River Stones does not mark the hour. The clock at each side of the tower gives an hour different. Sometimes the needles slip. From the stocking to the minus room it takes forever. From the hour and room to the stocking, the needle falls like yellow in the mouth of an old woman. The clock of the tower does not speak very good of our First Educational Middle. In Mayagüez things look like to be a little better now that Bachelor is rector again.
Between the bead of the light, the bead of the water, and the bead of the telephone, and the loose masses, at end of this month I am going to see me and I am going to desire myself. With the heats that are making, one bathes more and one uses more the air conditioned. Before, one could leave the windows open of pair and pair, or go outside to drink the fresh. But now, with things like they are, one does not dare to go out. One has to go to bed in leathers; in the prostitute baseball. They say that it is all because of the Little Boy, but the Little Boy does not pay my bead of the light. Also, the Little Boy is in the coast of Perú and Chile. Why does he have to come to intercourse here? Now they pour all the guilt on the Little Boy. I think with this of the Little Boy, and now of the Little Girl, we are being taken of pubic hair. Before, it was just a barometric wave! Now it is a trough in the upper raincoats of the atmosphere. Before, it was just "bad time".
Well, Candid, I have to fire myself. You can stay with the pictures I sent. Give my memories to all in Cape Red. We are putting ourselves old! Remember when you used to say that you were the youngest green old man? Now you are just a green old man. By favor, do not let so much time pass without naming me. You can name me at the house, or you can name me at the office. Take care, my breadfruit.
Sincerely, Utmost.