The gaze of women!

So the unworthy Gaijin met two figures today, making his lack of niceness appear dwarfish in the waiting room of MA2412.

A truly extremely polite, lively, and truly British gentleman had the extraordinary honor of serving the fetid BOSAMO, and already in the description of the hut it said: British Breakfast!

So what happened in the morning?

A dissatisfied, emaciated shrew felt the need to explain to the host that they were in France and, with a glance, denied the noble food, which froze the Gaijin's testicles, causing him to be thermally castrated and making it impossible for him to ever remove that gaze from his brain.

I'm afraid that a men's magazine purchased as a remedy will remain ineffective!

Non-bloody, visual testicular obliteration is definitely possible, but an simple cut appears far less painful to the ignorant.

What on earth could one have against British Breakfast?

Berta was truly motivated today, driven into the Pyrenees like a young, lively deer, with Andorra as the chosen destination.

A great chase on beautiful roads!

Once arrived, the uneducated One believed that it wouldn't hurt his heathen but godlike, well-trained body to visit a Romanesque church from within, as Andorra has a few of them in the mountains and they haven't been violated with baroque, golden glory.

Said and done, up the mountain and NOTHING.

The devil stays outside, mischief still sits on my shoulder, my esteemed, educated, beautiful, intelligent, alabaster-skinned, worshipped readers will find out later if the demonic Gaijin would have caught fire upon entering holy ground, but it will be a while until the next interesting church.

Oh, and today the weather had the goodness of covering the sun with lovely clouds! It was delightful!

In a way, the last mercy before my stage of fear begins, as the south of Spain is now ahead of me, and truly, just looking at the weather app makes me sweat...

P.S.: I've long stopped sweating because of my mistakes!