Mira Catalina, okay my dad loves you very much and I spend Sunday chronic telling the story of our beloved Tacna and their characters. It is good that you make every day better known and that many people ask you in public squares and malls. Okay you're a puppy graceful and have a sweet face despite your canine condition. Is well joys of friendship of little animals inside and outside Peru, including the black squirrel that comes to visit every spring in Canada at a dog belonging to a friend of my father whose name I forget. It is good that you are the smug lately Avenue Dos de Mayo. It's okay to eat those cookies just awful fishy that cost an arm and a leg. Okay you jump like a dolphin and have learned to sit and eat when you are told and do your dirty deeds alone in the courtyard. Okay to call you daughter and fill you with kisses and caresses. Okay you have light hair and be the only family that has pedigree of some sort. Okay all that Catherine, you were lucky, you earned. But what is wrong bitch son of a bitch, is that every time I come to visit the father who gave me life, I jump like a madman staining the shirt, pants and jacket. Not good I drool all over his face and hands with your tongue snake. It is not right with your playful bites almost tears me more than once noble party. It is not right to fill me with your hair leaving as bear parade. So think about Catalina and cool you if you want to follow my good father titrating their stories every Sunday "Catherine with love" and not "Catherine in the memory." I ask you friends, because next time I will put a Tabaza in you will verija awakening of the fairytale princess you are fucking bitch bitch.
Atte. Your
outraged brother.
Atte. Your
outraged brother.
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