Chapter 3 THE CHRONICLES OF A DIARIST

NOT PERFUMED, AND NOT CHANGED IN THE PREVIOUS DAY'S CLOTHING.

WHEN THE ROTTEN, A GOD HELPS US EVERY DAY THE SAME SMELL, THE SAME CLOTHING, EXCEPT THE FAR THAT GIVEN EVERY TEN MINUTES, SEEMED THAT THEY WERE EATING EGGS AT LUNCH AND THEY SHOULD BE ROTTEN.

WE STAYED ON THE SIDE OF THE SMELLS, WE LIKED TO FEEL THE MEN'S PERFUME, AND WE ARE TRYING TO GUESS THE NAME AND FRAGANCE OF THEIR PERFUME.

THAT SMELLY MEN IN MIGAS, I SPOKE QUIETLY TO TANIA AND MARTA, MY FIRST PROFESSIONAL FRIENDS, WE MEET ON THE BUS, WE BECAME INSEPARABLE FRIENDS.

THE DRIVER CABO CHICO, SURPRISE US BY SEVERAL NAMES, THE THREE NON-TWIN, THE THREE DAILY DAYS, THE THREE NON-SISTERS, THE THREE CONFIDENTS, THE THREE TALKERS, THE THREE YUMMY.

THIS WAS THE ONE WE LIKED TO BE CALLED THE MOST, I USUALLY SAY THAT THE BUS IS THE MEETING POINT OF THE DIARISTS, THEY WANT TO MEET ONE, TAKE A BUS, HAS THE JOYFUL, SAD, TALKERS, SILENT, SAFADINHAS, ALL STORIES OF LIFE.

AND I HAVE SO MANY, THE ONE THAT HE LEFT ME COMMENTING FOR A MONTH WITH THE FRIENDS, TANIA AND MARTA, WAS MY MISSION'S ZENAIDE'S CAT MICHEL.

SHE WAS MORE CARE OF THE CAT