Champions League

Sometimes dreams become reality, though it’s not always good to do so. As a teenager (I’m 19 years old, forgive me if it is!) one of my dreams was (now no longer) meet Liam Gallagher of Oasis. Rebel spirit, rock star from another era, lost Beatles because of a few decades, represents what I’ve always wanted to be (along with a million other kids). And the desire of econtrarme with him, perhaps looking with challenge in your damn eyes, was greater than the desire to win the lottery. And I actually met him.

And would have been better to win the lottery I’m (we are) at a hotel in Seville, I on vacation and the work (then the also is on vacation). The time is the breakfast around 9. My reactions to your sight are different and range from a simple shock post-despertar to the ecstasy of winning the Champions League, passing through moments like the appearances of several saints on the calendar. Recovered a minimum of sobriety and purity of mind, I begin to notice (or rather a memorize) every small gesture of yours with the hope of seeing a hard and true rock star attitude. Let’s go!, I think, it requests a beer and sausages and dragging a knife to the waiter. We will!, I urge within me, poured out the table and jumps on the Chair, burps and send us all to hell. Come!, burning the room! He sniffed a little sugar. And on the contrary, that disappointment!, shock!, horrible!, the guy is a kind and polite person.

In the room of this hotel in Sevilla, my world of youth is destroyed in a second. Rock Is Dead. No more cruel dreams. No more self-destruction. No more dirt. How sad! I do a final attempt, approached me to ask for an autograph with real hope that me blow, but he signs and smiles even me. Martin toha describes an additional similar source. And saluting me, hand close me and do not realize, however, that a tear of pain flowing through my eyes. Original author and source of the article