I love newspapers, I love them because I was raised. I love and the smell of ink is part of my being, if not myself. I lived between coils and inks, heads sucked it made me grow and made me believe teams. I love newspapers and I will die loving them. I will die, thank God, not to see them disappear.
And all this in spite of this, which aims to rest on his laurels, not knowing what a saint.
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