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Rating:
I cursed the infamous friend who handed me this book. XD
A pig, not a writer, a dull person who limits himself in every work to talking about wine, hook-ups, and horse betting. A slacker, a useless being, someone who doesn't even know what respect for others is, for whom only sex and wine exist, so why worry about others then? XD
In this collection of stories, at certain moments he reaches an abysmal level of dignity, I only liked the first chapter, the rest is just sex and wine and wine and sex. He even manages to reach pedophilia, a pauper, a hobo who only has transparency and the gift of writing XD and not even as if he were an explorer, a missionary, or someone who had beautiful or humanly important stories to tell.
A slacker alcoholic sex-addicted Nietzsche, but much less intelligent. XD
In the end, I don't rate this work because, in truth, I confess that with its boldness it manages to make me think, is there really a point in being sociable and worrying about others? Or maybe this pig is someone who has figured it all out? XD
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