still here to tell you about this ramshackle army, which is riding on horses clattering pedaled on roads and paths.
Finally the sun kisses the face and calls together from everywhere to unite and form heroes wandering armies, sweat and toil their partners, that passes through the city or countryside.
But one of them I'm going to tell the terrible adventure, which luckily did not end badly. In the colorful tail
platoon were me, Andrea, Picozzi and the man in question, no one else is that Marco, the Grand Duke of Siziano, a man of valor tried, albeit a little jump.
In a disorganized rabble runs the large, meaning that air is not blowing into them fight, relentless, cold and otherwise.
But we know that the cold does colar the nose, and from here begins the sad case.
too much and want to get rid of mucus loved the tassel, and driving too fast by the hand off.
And so the gesture while he prepares the snariciare to do, never imagined that it was a vile hole, waiting.
gravel and sand have done the rest, sliding feet and meters for the poor.
Oibò! Black bitumen on a spinning container, yellow, blue seems to me it was his color, had some part in codest'orrore grant you success?
From my hand, hear the noise behind the left, turned the head with amazement worried.
But it was not long, who with great courage, the victim got up to continue the journey.
And once again the fate, something to think gave us, after so many miles, riding past, there is no doubt that there is always something to learn.
Cesco (The Clown)
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