In the real Catalonia, repetitive, recidivist, bounced back… Rrrrrr. The van arrived and said we didn't exist. I reread: "Oops! Your shipment could not be delivered due to an incorrect address.". All my life living in a wrong place. A: we check. We reiterate: correct address. The same as always. Nothing to say? Neither reread the paper. Nor trace the streets. Nor look with your eyes. No scratching. Rationality 0 - Irrationality 10. If the GPS says that it is not here: it is not here: it is not here. The important thing is the trip. Rrrrrr.
Return that they report the package that they say is not correct, after confirming that the house exists, and that it is not an invisible or post-nuclear residue. What is the house? What is there? that smells? What all? But no way. Why does respect, reality, reality fail? Clar. Don't understand me. Repeteixo. I speak the unreal, rustic, rònega, rovellada language: Català. Neither adreça, nor llengua, nor res. I bad llet. Because it must be regirat, refregit, rabiüt, rancuniós. It will all be my fault: for living in the wrong place. And of course, incorrect. Deliver a package to a house that is not there. Regalima. Raja. River. rich, rejectable, reptiles, repulsive, reconsecrated. They all speak a strange language... And we repeat: strange, rich, rejectable, reptiles... just-contra-aquests-que-assenyalo-jo. Evidentment refinançats per tots nosaltres. Amb els rals de tots nosaltres. With the reconeixement of all nosaltres. We will always be happy. We will always be refugees. We will always be the one who is missing. What have you thought of this, eh? Always repress us. About els hi hem dur els packages home. But they don't understand. Parlen roi. Això ho fan for Residualizing us, ridiculing us, re-educating us. The reality, in Ratalunya, is done like this.
