Juan Román Riquelme, the winged demon or Roman, hated or loved, divided internally water and I think he loves being the center. Everyone talks about him until he talks about it, the power off to the people of reality, the mud to the penthouse of the ego. The flag support, Topo Gigio, and unhappy that he came in full Bombonera putearlo all fame. The supreme lonely, isolated, sees enemies and friends in the soup chains. TV crossed with the Ten, 10, and today fallen angel turned his back on God, laughing. Souls burned supported it, others celebrated, but no one ignored the offense, the rudeness, and talk of betrayal of the colors, what colors? The disciple learned from the teacher, put it down to the neighborhood against the nation of Italy in La Boca, the art of the dark side. Now enjoys powerful hell, but everything has an ending that does not provide for he is a prophet in his land and lost the perspective from above, no eye contact, immortal. Within decades, outside the stadium, will be one more, more and more, and will laugh or shooting star system in childish excuses, but alone in a chair away, because loves it too, and it's sad because no one else like him, so he thinks.
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