Prato mind you I also like the dare, '
enlarged with many factories, dormitories, a smorgenta more than three hundred thousand inhabitants, but nothing seems to mettegli contagli you start in a row now and ends in three thousand. But the
Prato Vorta son of a sincere Vole exit from the one I thought, god of the Prato Canto the three gore, S. Fabiano, The Market, Baillon, because of the donkeys, Lutheran, today is the supermarchette semo became Faticoni, then Sandee in the way of fish from Cecconi
Padovani eg spices colonial bread from the wheel of the Seas Traa it in a basket, the ham from Fattoressa and spending weeks on the tour if you passed to the rack by Fedele chickpeas and salt cod. Then from the palace
vescolvile them a piece of a smear of Pula and a bunch of bananas in Mogadishu.
Prato mind you I also like the dare, 'lying on Fontanelle Retaia to those that covered the mountain when it is said that long ago culaia.
Today there are many people who work for the love of all conceal fairly without naming names as to "This" are all examples as fellow citizens but they are all made from the same mold, consumerism glia made cheese is equal to the peorino. A
Vorta instead was more courage in their own way a character rack, wax Baine, Liccio the Piscione, and who does not remember the Pugi inteligente in person, and if a wax that I slammed in the doors I realized that you had the view of the male, and Don Rodrigo spip stern eyes that read gratisse the Supper of the Pranks "I am the Blacks" then wax Chips, Baielle the fiaccherario, the priest rings, the vintner courses, Anacleto fragrant and elegant a precursor misunderstood, and then wax the mayor that the mayor signed it in full.
Prato mind you I like it even dares to 'modern, working, where even a little allupino' clothed in civilian clothes and go to eat Baghino. And then the
Prato, a city full of curtura although there Valsugana a church that looks like a garbage can. At times I
curturali the sources were the work to Metastasio, the Giuseppe Verdi Choral Guido Monaco and the city band that each party controlled the rivogaa there's always the same piece from La Traviata, connoisseurs Zanaschi the rack, the Vinattieri, Emilio dell'Andrea and five or six short, the same faces I met you at the bar to fetch the right of Mosacce, Bacchus rack fashion that we were the Gagà rack a bit, then the children of fathers with the air between the idiotic and a bit loafers Waiting for the girls to the door Domo at noon. A
Misodoli Fon breezes kissing the face while dancing to the Partisans Laza, in white, red and Banchini faceano double play Tarzan, Tom and Misse Ridolini.
The Hood was the one, and Costello was Stanga instead of Viareggio Sandee the broken wall. Now
f or a comparison that makes you smile, perhaps our city was like the Spoon River, the wax Bellocchio, Naso, the Queen of Friso, the punch, the eater, the Poet, Spargiamore, with the dandy pants du sewn bums with violin and many, many names that I struggled not come to mind, as the pinnace cocomeraio, Giugni The Dick, who co a brush tied to a stick I surrendered more smoothly Bandon and Robust connoisseur of Chianti, and Canapino undisputed king of the seed and lupine.
scorrea And so the day between the taste of rags and sounds of sirens, including trolleys and crates full of pieces of yarn, and while the tile oven lever Buccellato and biscuits of Prato Fellin Brogi barber spennelava face with the usual smile.
the air was clear and clean at that time and evening to the Cilische finia Leoncini.
be clear and easy times Nerano rack rather hard even then there was a certain rompioglioni, who had written on the walls "Believe, Obey, Combattre, the plow that tracks mouse"
A child of six years to give us Balilla Lupa, eighteen vanguard but as I scanned the Duce's Italy from his horse, and we Pratesi evening or Gina or Crystal.
Prato mind you I also like the dare 'so sorry if I have a bit absent-minded' about the times when I was among the powerful West and The Walled Garden of the Wolf already periphery of the rack, now everything has changed and a better or worse but I know as the years go away that we think themselves anointed let this nostalgia of old Prato quickly would gladly return the hand by Turi Fassi to make a nice scratch American.
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