This is the first part:
Right between the American crocodile and elephant Asian
was eleven o'clock of March 17, and on that day to celebrate the unification of Italy, our Italian teacher, gently hunched, he promised to twenty students who would make them sleep a little 'more about their bunk beds. The rays of the sun had already begun to tickle a few minutes from the white walls of my room, when taken from the five piggy € onomastics and closed the door, leaving them smiling in private. While
shoelaces ticked on the floor, I came all'attaccapani, the k-way down a row and put on my cap with the visor ocher. I bent down to pick up the cage that housed a couple of hours a canary, and squeezed the handle with your fingers.
Catherine and I were there to make an appointment at the Bioparco a picnic next to the turtles - I naively called the turtle, but she, in her brown curls, he knew a lot: he said that were able to recognize his mother by his uncle, the red blue and that - if removed from an area that is particularly close to heart - he said, admonishing the small right hand - they will return there, and as soon as possible, unmindful of their heavy armor. It was an important thing, he concluded, and I nodded decided - in the center of the courtyard and with his hands behind his back.
arrived at Villa Borghese, walked to the stop the train and leaned his head cautiously over the safety line of red ladybugs, to search for it between the rows of poplars. Accompanied by music
abstruse, the convoy came up short, carrying my conductor of trust: the one with the sideburns Vispe honey color.
"Excuse me sir, stop at the Bioparco?" - I, bowing his head a bit 'right.
"Yes baby. Today we stopped just between the Asian American crocodile and the elephant. "- Answered quick, always pleasant with the whiskers on his cheeks.
satisfied, lifted the cage from the ground, which, meanwhile, had been surrounded by ladybugs, spellbound by the first hesitant trills of the canary.
boarded the third carriage, leaned the yellow bird on my left, and watched the way from the square window of the car. The train picked up speed gradually, reaching to spin smoothly in Piazzale Marcello Mastroianni, where an elegant, taciturn boy in sunglasses, a drink made with her father, munching chips and leaving for education, another spritz half of the round table. Li reached a lady from the graceful movements, as if to a musical cadence, leading arm, well-rolled the Magic Flute locadina Luzzati. The child stretched it out, he showed all his teeth, and offered a Crik Crok mom.
That's when the crime happened.
END OF PART
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