We Live on an Island

Paul had to take a piece of furniture to a carpenter who lives on the outskirts of the “big city”. He phoned me half an hour later:

“I’m going back home. You cannot imagine how the traffic is intense and chaotic!”

If I remember well, this is the second time in a week he complains. Just two days before he had sent me a message informing:

“Estou num engarrafamento!” (Translating means something like “I am in a bottleneck”. He meant a traffic jam, obviously.)

He returned with that piece of furniture and a disappointed look in his face.

“We live on an island!” he said.

I don’t think he meant Inhaca…

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