Aunt Maruja

How much fire can a restaurant fire, how much can a shoe store shoot, how far can an arcade fire? We are in this debate, in the fire that the truth can stand, because what we can resist is clear: it’s okay to resort to paracetamol at 37.5 or 38 degrees. We don’t know what the paracetamol of reality is. Lately, the pedestrians of history are like someone who has attended a black ritual on the television news: her hair stood on end. Was Nancy Pelosi’s visit to Taiwan necessary, which raised the global temperature so much? No idea. While the children listen to the conversations of the adults at the after-dinner table on Sundays, we listen to the analyzes of the experts. The elders say we should stop talking to Aunt Maruja and maybe we like Aunt Maruja but we are small and we have no idea about some things.

We loved Nancy Pelosi from the start because she was called Nancy Pelosi, which is a wonderfully harmonious combination of her first and last name. If you start life by naming yourself that way, you’ll think you’ve finished half the race. There’s no way to be called Nancy Pelosi (I love to repeat) and not succeed at what you decide to do. In fact, we don’t know of a failed Nancy Pelosi. The children grow up and Aunt Maruja, whom the family hates, turns out to be a wonderful person. Domestic misery is isolated by the remnants of heritage, because people, when we shrink, we lose our way. It’s hard to admit that either the father or the mother (or a combination of both) has a minor point. Sometimes (in a spiritual sense) it is cheaper to hate Aunt Maruja than to get involved in difficult emotional matters.

Maybe Nancy Pelosi messed up despite being called Nancy Pelosi. Good thinking does not guarantee euphony effectiveness. All summer, we’ve been watching news about high fevers that don’t go away even by turning the air conditioner up to 17 degrees. The fire of reality does not depend on the number of degrees as much as the place to be cooled. You can’t make a funeral home the same temperature as a sushi restaurant (or yes, I don’t know). That’s what one thinks or doesn’t think from their childish mind, but the older ones didn’t like Aunt Maruja.

Source: Informacion

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