motherfuckers!

THEY STOLE MY BAG,
yesterday I decide to visit a museum with a friend, then we go for a beer, well more then one, stefano leaves his bag on the chair, in front of the friend, who is not sleeping and not jet a bit drunk. And fuck, when I am back the bag is gone! Fortunately I keep my docs and money on me, but in the bag there was something i can't replace in an embassy, my diary, which i filled up with passion every single day of my trip, and two films of pictures i was too lazy to develop, fuck my lazyness! pluss, my phone card with all the numbers...so please don' t get mad if i don't call you once back to finland...
No matter how carefull you are with your stuff, it seems that there is a superior will which rules the destiny of your stuff while travelling, it simply happens that something decides they have to leave you...at least this kind of theory makes it easier to accept...let me find excuses to my stupidity.

But the night was cool, hanging around the city (no bag to carry), with local friends, I also passed in front of the disco “República Cromagnon”, which burned last year, precisely the 30th of december, when more then 190 people died. It is like a santuary, photos, messages and a lot of shoes hanging on the top of it (they told me they belonged to the victims), tables where people can sit and talk, like in a sort of open air museum of sadness and desperation. The atmosphere was dense and it seemed that the noise of the nearest street couldnt brake into the silence of what has been a huge tragedy for all the argentinians. This episode changed many things in buenos aires.

Ste