"C'est magnifique, hein?".
The French traveling en famille; strictly with the Italian boyfriend. Dressed as if they were at any time at midnight in Viale Ceccarini, and twelve and the heel and ankle make-up and the mini.
of order, always vaguely pissed: they start as a couple, that status is still with us, but then not having fun. I heard
a dejected saying: eh, but you are always angry with me.
Sit treasure, there's the platoons. The
english girls are with her friends, and they're enjoying themselves: they drink like sailors and fall in love with the bartenders Greeks.
The frets, however, are dyed blond.
And yes, that's great.
looks like the Capri of Greece, said the UCP with a certain what his air of scandal.
E 'convinced that a man of simple tastes and rough, just like a rock, then proceeds to list the house with elegant detachment that there must be the summer air conditioning (suffering from the heat), and network and adequate space (to write, him). When you fly
complains of airports, when landing delays and African heat, generally in the life of not being on or between Falzarego Pratoni dell'Armentarola.
After three days, running around half naked and sciamanna to the island on scooters greek precarious.
The rest is water, Retsina, Greek salad - goat and dancing the Sirtaki Zorba.
This house from which I write has the grace of one of the most beautiful scenery in the world.
dawn and dusk, the whole island turns pink.
The voices, the music between the white houses come as whispers only to the dinner hour.
the evening, the lights are lit on the cliff as blessings.
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