we are looking for this man. he looks like a regular old guy, but in reality he is an undercover secret agent camouflaged in the guise of a voyeur. do not be fooled, he uses the hump to hide his very sophisticated instrumentation. if you see him give us a holler.
On departing for her shopping tour, Mrs. Olga had left her daughter to the care of Lorenza. A TV presenter who had a weakness for the girl who was once full of grace. She had forced the milky and silky complexion (courtesy of a porcelain), but all in all she was a plump and well-made person, and in her voice were the slack cadences of the roman way of speaking. And Mrs. Olga’s daughter empathized with this one who, to tell the whole story, if it had been possible to make her catch a rich husband, maybe a heir, they would have fucking gotten rid of her. - Mrs. Olga is waiting for you inside the post
On that ground, at least, the Russians soon admired their superiority. The Baroness Strangoloff, on the verge of madness for a disease of the nerves, retired her equilibrium from the race of life and started reading cards and hands. With her sons, she had gone off to live a new life in the condominium, while Mrs. Burtin, who has the easiest , quickest and happiest part in this story, had moved her residency elsewhere. The fervor of that woman from the East had immediately heated up the environment and in no time she had begun getting busy with the future of some tenants. - Mrs. Olga is waiting for you inside the post
The cardinal surely thought he would look really good to Mrs. Olga’s eyes, stuck to the TV, with his rich pontifical ornaments. The extraordinary ceremony gown embedded with silk and contraptions of all kinds flaming in the sun. “The prince told me the other day that he was the happiest man in the world, which really made me sorry”. - Mrs. Olga is waiting for you inside the post
Mrs Olga argues she takes care of us by cursing. through the most violent fantasies that come to her mind, to Mr. Nilai, who likes to stand back reading books, he supposedly became a sociable man, the call girl model, maniac of her freedom, VAT number prisoner, the bitch on the landing, who scratches and scratches, equipped with a model husband. -the Italian version is waiting for you inside the post
This morning I found a note on my door saying “I finally reached the empty space between the intolerable and the I-don’t-give-a-shit. I’ll be waiting for you there to get you.” A group of mumblers was waiting for me to define some details, about which I heard they are hiding the devil, for an urban design plan. - Mrs. Olga is waiting for you inside the post
Mrs. Agostoni again threatened her husband of jumping from the balcony, but the big cop must not have even glanced at his wife, as he does every time he wants to make it clear: I’M IGNORING YOU. Also, the policeman is an asshole who slips cigars in his mouth even when there are babies around. Anyway, they’re always bickering, Mr. and Mrs. Agostoni, but it doesn’t always end with the threat that gives Mrs. Olga such pleasure. It’s well-known, she goes down to the courtyard waiting for her next-door neighbor to actually end it all one day. - More of Mrs. Olga is waiting for you inside the post
Talking about shoes, four of them reached me to indicate Mrs. Olga to me. This happened last week when a beautiful blonde, who was limping a little bit, was the latest victim who pointed out to me that the young lady Olga was undoubtedly crazy. Ada, the woman in question, had found a pair of shoes on her balcony which, before falling to the ground, had banged against the window. Hearing the noise she went out and saw Mrs. Olga repeating the gesture of throwing other shoes on other balconies. Only after she had finished did she go back inside. I should have told her something, everyone knew about our relationship and counted on me being able to talk reason into her.
Mrs. Olga and I live in a trapezoidal rectangle housing complex, we are on the long side forming the base, towards the acute angle. The courtyard is of poor stone, looking down there you feel embarrassed by such a bleak sight that some tenants have decided to put it right by combining some plants arranged in a circle in the center. Total absence of life. One of these tenants lives on the first floor in front of our stairs. She’s precisely stuck in the acute angle where the sun would have to protrude so much as to risk losing its balance. - Mrs. Olga is waiting for you inside the post
