William Burroughs:
Yonki
This is a novel narrative value zero. In other words, it is not a novel. Not one of those freaks called experimental novels. This is a story told with pedestrian prose by someone who had more love for the hypodermic needle in the literature. You may have much love for the heroine and little books. It can be a hung . It may be a camel . It can be many things. What can not be is so abnormal to defend a tome like this. August anagram made purchasing the rights to English-speaking countries of the tart the beat generation. Menudo invention. Bukowski, Kerouac, Burroughs ... Go crew, my brother would say. As happens to many other books, the only value this is the price cut and its short duration. You walk through these pages astonished among both hanged and so trash both moral and bad taste. One built with fragments of memories. From the memories of a junkie that if he found her in jail or under a bridge after receiving a palizón of órdago, was for the money they had family. It is very comfortable to see the fence. It's fun to play at being counter when your parents endorse the nonsense and answer for you and pay the lawyers and securities and bribes to the judges who signed interim freedoms and even delay the celebrations of the trials until barred and can no longer pursue the brat junkie. In this type drug wimps I know a few: long post, put, and always with the phone number dad on the phone, in case something happens, if the kid drug addict goes through the barrier law and must be put ahead a few bucks. Do not miss tickets for wimps addicts.
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