Independent and autonomous.
Aunt Clara, a seventy-year-old girl, is still beautiful. Seeing the cupboard brings back memories of having sex with your partner when you were young.
Clara's husband said, "I love her, and even though it was a low point in my life, we still got through it together, the saddest time."
My husband passed away for 17 years.
This apartment, Aquarius, holds memories of my past years. My children are grown and married, my husband is gone and so is my aunt. I have been fighting cancer for more than 30 years. I don't believe in my fate. If the doctor said I can't do it, I should give up.
I had surgery to remove my right breast because of cancer. I'm a music critic, and I have countless vinyl records in my house. Someone interviewed me that day and asked if I was resisting the development of the times and how could it be. I also listen to it in mp3s and streaming. Listen to me tell a story, I have this record in my hand, but the one I bought was borrowed and never returned. Probably streamed from LA or somewhere else, I got it at a used record store. Inside was a clipped newspaper dated a few weeks before the release of the record, when the person who interviewed me hadn't even been born. I don't know if they understand what I'm trying to say.
Construction companies first and then soldiers.
I made it clear that I will not be moving out of this apartment. They nasty handed the leaflet under the door and I handed it out, but the leaflet was handed in again and I was a little bit fed up. I opened the door and he walked away awkwardly.
Aquarius, they say it's a ghost building, and I'm the only one living here. At night, the tulle hangs vertically down from the roof, like a girl's scarf and a white cloth for condolences.
My daughter said that her financial situation was not good after the divorce, but instead of coming to me for help, she took the initiative to find a construction company. I feel helpless.
The water is coming to your chest, come back.
It didn't end like this. One day, upstairs, so many buildings, just happened to have a party and promiscuous party in the upstairs of my living room. Is it like sarcasm that an old woman like me has no sex life? The music in the room was turned on to the maximum to cover the sound upstairs, I called a male prostitute, huh. The young widower, the young and lively male prostitute lost all enthusiasm when he touched the place where I operated.
I reported this to the construction company, but they said I shouldn't paint the exterior walls without permission. That man, the grandson of so-and-so, is an arrogant person to hear such words.
My babysitter was in service for 19 years and I remember her birthday.
She told me that the construction team was burning mattresses while I was away.
That sewer separates the rich and the poor. I'm here, she's over there.
The two men who left the construction team explained something to me, and I went into those rooms and I saw them all.
I packed these in my suitcase and I went to their company and I was a little hysterical. I brought my lawyer with me.
Termites crawled all over the wood, completely corroding from the inside out. Greedy bourgeois, too.
The neighbor's son said that his father had passed away two years ago, and the contract was signed six years ago, but the benefits have not been obtained, because I am alone. so what?
The sun is just right and I can pull up my hair and go to the beach. That person will still tell me, the water is almost to my chest, come back.
Even so, I wanted to jump on that dangerous wave.
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