I'm homeless dog. Not that the word 'homeless' or 'dog' had a pejorative meaning, quite the contrary. Dogs always I value more than cats, and gives me a kind of homelessness undisguised joy and, prosaically, a sense of freedom. And although I do not know how long I stay for Dove Row, is some silly sense of hope and life Fuks (and even internal 'feel') suggest to me that I will be here for some time.
Moreover, in some ways I am suspended between two addresses. Official and less formal, yet is this najoficjalniejszy address that comes to my mail, but have long since broke contact with the realities of residence on Ealingowym Polaczkowie.
So I sit with no competence in his room, where he basically just slept, and where even the things of his I have not. I also eat more on your desk at work, rather than here, in the end there, I spend the most hours during the day.
Freedom is a state of mind. Or at least my mind is in such condition.
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