It is a cold March morning, the road winds through fields of debris and infested ugly two-storey buildings springing up in the misty light of seven. Along the way encounter a bar before the bar of Nigerian prostitutes are rising quickly on the White Duchy. I see them every morning going from here, cutting the heart of south-eastern outskirts of Rome when I go to work.
They finished the turn of the night, someone picks them up from the road to put them in a cage, to hide the unacknowledged aspect of our civilization. The distributor is desert, has the appearance of an oil platform in the icy North Sea. Near the gas station is around a large woman in her seventies.
I know, because this is where I often fill up with gas. His face is perpetually tanned, a large nose and red-faced, two blue eyes intense. It moves slowly dragging his feet wrapped in a couple of sweatshirts Ciabattoni. The jacket he wears is the one with the crest of the oil company that supplies.
Approach the pump and lower the glass. I ask you to fill. "Petrol, eh? ", She is careful. He always does. In the past, happened to be a full crop of super car with a diesel engine. "Petrol", I confirm. Cried his eyes on the mobile phone and wallet while extension from a fifty. Skip one minute, and I turn to the display of the distributor.
She's back there trying to squeeze the last drops of precious distillate to do the same account. "So 'fifty precise, makes me as he pulls out a gun (in every sense) and close the tank filler." Fifty? "I repeat, fearing that it did not understand it. Last year, with the same machine, I was full of forty.
Until a few days ago forty-three, forty-four at the most. He notices my surprise. "And that is the body mine? "Chatter. "Pijatevela with libbici. The conversation is collapsing. Someone on the road slows down, takes a look at the price of fuel stated on the lists, go beyond, hoping to snatch a dime per gallon cheaper.
Thus runs the world economy, I think. The clashes in Ras Lanuf and Ben Jawad, where the air raids of the Gaddafi regime responds to the anti-insurgent, they come to affect this evil grin on his mouth twisted lady. At seven o'clock in the morning still do not know that Jean Claude Trichet at the end of the meeting of the Global Economy Meeting declare that central banks are vigilant on oil prices.
At seven o'clock in the morning do not even know that yesterday, among the 21 victims of Misurata, there was also a two and a half years. What I know for sure is that on the news and talk shows throughout the West will affect more civilized Trichet's statements that the death of that child.
It is the underlying reason why, before I go, I look with fierce eyes the petrol station attendant who has just extorted fifty euro. It is the policy that requires universal hatred retail. Altering the scale of values in the name of the conflict between individuals. The war in North Africa is not just a matter between NATO, the Arab League and African Union.
The war is instilled from the top, between you and us. And the victims or perpetrators sooner or later, it all become. So I go back into gear and, with the lighter wallet and head still full of sleep. From this point on will dose lessened the pressure on the accelerator, I will try to appease the barrage of insults me and that comes to mind are targeting petrol stations, the oil companies, leads the talk, the Libyan dictator and the ECB.
Put a tiger in the engine, said an old ad for a famous oil company. Today I have the impression that the engine we put mink and sable. The Tigers, on the other hand, remain to roar in our head. To learn more about Andrea click here Knoblock 
They finished the turn of the night, someone picks them up from the road to put them in a cage, to hide the unacknowledged aspect of our civilization. The distributor is desert, has the appearance of an oil platform in the icy North Sea. Near the gas station is around a large woman in her seventies.
I know, because this is where I often fill up with gas. His face is perpetually tanned, a large nose and red-faced, two blue eyes intense. It moves slowly dragging his feet wrapped in a couple of sweatshirts Ciabattoni. The jacket he wears is the one with the crest of the oil company that supplies.
Approach the pump and lower the glass. I ask you to fill. "Petrol, eh? ", She is careful. He always does. In the past, happened to be a full crop of super car with a diesel engine. "Petrol", I confirm. Cried his eyes on the mobile phone and wallet while extension from a fifty. Skip one minute, and I turn to the display of the distributor.
She's back there trying to squeeze the last drops of precious distillate to do the same account. "So 'fifty precise, makes me as he pulls out a gun (in every sense) and close the tank filler." Fifty? "I repeat, fearing that it did not understand it. Last year, with the same machine, I was full of forty.
Until a few days ago forty-three, forty-four at the most. He notices my surprise. "And that is the body mine? "Chatter. "Pijatevela with libbici. The conversation is collapsing. Someone on the road slows down, takes a look at the price of fuel stated on the lists, go beyond, hoping to snatch a dime per gallon cheaper.
Thus runs the world economy, I think. The clashes in Ras Lanuf and Ben Jawad, where the air raids of the Gaddafi regime responds to the anti-insurgent, they come to affect this evil grin on his mouth twisted lady. At seven o'clock in the morning still do not know that Jean Claude Trichet at the end of the meeting of the Global Economy Meeting declare that central banks are vigilant on oil prices.
At seven o'clock in the morning do not even know that yesterday, among the 21 victims of Misurata, there was also a two and a half years. What I know for sure is that on the news and talk shows throughout the West will affect more civilized Trichet's statements that the death of that child.
It is the underlying reason why, before I go, I look with fierce eyes the petrol station attendant who has just extorted fifty euro. It is the policy that requires universal hatred retail. Altering the scale of values in the name of the conflict between individuals. The war in North Africa is not just a matter between NATO, the Arab League and African Union.
The war is instilled from the top, between you and us. And the victims or perpetrators sooner or later, it all become. So I go back into gear and, with the lighter wallet and head still full of sleep. From this point on will dose lessened the pressure on the accelerator, I will try to appease the barrage of insults me and that comes to mind are targeting petrol stations, the oil companies, leads the talk, the Libyan dictator and the ECB.
Put a tiger in the engine, said an old ad for a famous oil company. Today I have the impression that the engine we put mink and sable. The Tigers, on the other hand, remain to roar in our head. To learn more about Andrea click here Knoblock
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