November is a nondescript. Start with the saints and the dead and continues with the opening of the year by the end of the final days dwindle, appears cold, rain, uncomfortable, plants languish and die, trees lose the beauty of autumn and the leaves clothe the ground, but keeps his own life in November, two of my sons birthday, Teresa becomes the first payroll of his life, Beatrice announced that house and I present The Dancer in the Cave of the Bolero. And here starts the party. Friends went there all times of my life from the usual romantic childhood to retirement through all stages telling them for decades. I miss all the names because I avoid forgetting any. However I quote someone: Marta quoted me for an interview that deliver National Radio (Radio-1) and asked me to update the blog and here I am: Blog updated. Only one request (and it seems that this one does not differentiate between one only or one or one and one with milk) march! At that meeting there alone, with water and wine. There was also some whiskey on the rocks: the cave is the bolero was a party where there was no lack of tangos or boleros and bossa nova.
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