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Where is the reality?
I snoozed in the armchair, with my hand on the handle of the movable little desk, on which I keep the laptop, some dictionaries and other papers like these, which I like to have handily, thinking they are useful. Sleeping, I was dreaming myself keeping my hand on the shoulder of my wife. (Sometimes, it happens, when I am really sleeping in the conjugal bed.) This time, impressed by my wife’s strong musculature, who passed overrun 70 some years ago, I waked up.
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