Agnes yelled to Tigresa so loud that her pitch was bending the bars. Tigresa was the one who fed the beasts, he had a high pitch, though not as high as the one that the owner of the business had- not as high as Agnes', I mean. Tigresa was younger than I was, he had a 5-year-old son licking the lime of some wall in Brașov, was missing three front teeth and moved like a living angel. "Maledetto, how many times will I tell you, have the meat ready in advance." "Signora, ain't no macelleria a questa piazza." "Ciucco... cómo te dizprezzo. Those creatures are gonna die tonight, they are worth one thousand times more than your whole race, what should I do with you now? mi dici stronzo... now what? one day I'll see you morto... one day..."
The new born were likely already dead. If not, their mother may manage to neatly twist their neck that night itself. Tomorrow morning the kids will cry at dictation class and may refuse their portion of bread. It happened that way in there. Natural instincts couldn't stand offspring. My head was approaching the cage, flies were laying eggs on Randy's lachrymal gland. Carmen... come on, move away. Why are you doing this? Leave this place, there is no use in anything what you are doing here... look how perfect he is... he'll go mad, in three, two, one... wow, he's staring static, he smells something... his glance, he knows what happens, he knows what this is all about, he can streamline the sadness, he's falling into an abyss, he's just like... he is... a reflection of... he's actually m... GGGRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.
"Eu am plecat de aici, that woman mad, ain't meat no where, no estoy llorando testa di cazzo, lasciami in pace, f...!" The new born died out of hunger that night. They refused the breasts.
