How Many Calories In A Fruit And Yogurt Swirl

cold and regressions

in Brussels is not that there are between seasons, there are indeed.

Only the half-degree below zero nine in the evening, considered reasonably autumn.

The porch is desert bivouac, the driver Nico Benjamin dodges and sit at the table, pasta inidentificabile for autistic pumpkin soup for the bashful.

The dodge has mixed the soup a soup puerile (seventy-nine cents to carrefour) in the form of letters of the alphabet, smiling and enjoying the orgy of tiny quennezetaò drowned in the pumpkin puree spiced with coriander and mocks the autistic, because apparently it's weird to eat soup of letters after five years of age. The shy and do not take it, candida, admits that it was the nostalgia of soups nonnesche to convince her to buy the alphabet-shaped noodles.

Jacques Brel in the background, B. and N. finish eating.

Then it happens that the driver pulls out a large hardback volume from a dive bag blue eyes and between the pages. Avoids it now has quite a refined sensitivity to certain things, and now claims that comic is what he is about to read.

B. replies:

"* Spirou."

You have never seen the driver, and do not know that six feet is a tuft of beard and disheveled, with hands like shovels, and while he says "Spirou", he does the voice segretistica conspirators of the children, his hands shake-wheel cover and cardboard - I swear - behind his dreamy eyed starlets can be glimpsed.

Then he flung headlong into acrobatic adventures of Spirou.

More and more advances in the evening cools down. Tomorrow will be colder than today, will draw the wind, the frost may incrosterà our windows (and I will have to learn a good time to regulate these heaters Celts).

Sometimes it is so cold that only a soup of letters and a cartoon for children, you can save.

PS is likely that the autistic and Ben dodges Nico share chocolate and waffles, around 23.

* Belgian comic strip, a cult, for children. Children are small enough, eh.