My name is Maureen and my colleagues one day they told me: Maurizio write, you write. But I am not capable. It's all the same, write. So I write, come on. That every day there is one.
Today, for example, worked and passed the teacher Martina, what a great teacher who is Martina, and has the hair that reach down to the bottom. Then how she keeps the kids in line, there is always that David runs away, that guy makes damn, but others do not, keep them in line, that the teacher Martina beautiful and good. So today I got the courage and I said teacher Martina what beautiful hair she has. She approached me and said, you know, Maurice, that when I take a shower (yes I said it I had become quite red for sure), that while I take a shower the hair that comes off the head (so he told me, the hair that comes off the head), I slip into the seat (sit, so he told me, told me sit down) and make everything a mess, a pile of hair all knotted which also hard to break away from the seat, and after I take off my hands, shooting, and it seems like there are a lot of hair in that ball, but there is one or two of hair, perhaps, that because they are long, then the ball seems to be made of a lot of hair, and you may I think that he has lost a bald mountain and rest, and instead just because they are very long, which creates the ball. Mauritius (eh, I told her), I guess I cut them.
But I do not know if I wanted to know, the ball of hair in the seat of the teacher Martina.
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