t will be called Jerome, emotional character with the headdress a little stale, which is more teddy bear than punk but still retains the rebel cloak that accompanies it every day, sometimes too much, leaving in its wake the same passage as the helicopter propellers in platoon, I'm talking about the one that accompanies us at the time that governs the rule of 3C, which punctuates the end of a good meal, or a late conversation to be stolen by we, temporary companions of this vital addiction, that of the creator of social bonds for more than one hundred years, the cigarette. It is a rum and a sugar additive that he is the lover, with so much history through the own content of his drink, how not to guess that he likes the trade, he who for a long time, to act of the eye of the "handsome" for the trade but above all for pleasure, for those having a moment of instruction to the intangible immortal, passed under vacuum and unpacked like an anecdote, during the exhibition of the said material that bought to him. So much poetry for a jug, the ass jokes that he knows, but it's the hearts of people he recognizes, do not confuse him with a marshmallow mallow, he knows very well use the bow to show that he still has vocal chords. A nice guy, who in this world loses, so full does not understand the frankness of this species and connotes mask, to miss what is really to understand. Tell him that we need to get organized, and you will smile at it. No mask at home, an eternal lesson of kindness that only the kind people see what he is, a genuine grumbler.