Today I decided it was up to the eggs. Not until the bow, not fed up. Not until the eggs.
nearly a year working for free, and the rest of my life working for wages of shit (well, except in Ireland monitors, that was a salary and other nonsense). I have 25 years and I keep costing my parents. And, worst of all is that when I hear my friend Josefine (German) to say he does not know whether to stay or go home Elei, where no work, or my friend Melissa (Mexican), claim the same, I know not only is there no work home, is that there is little chance that there is short term. Come on, I'm here and I could eat the mucus in Madrid.
I'm up to the bow. Seriously. I'm tired of working for love of art, for making me a resume, and gain experience. Since I have experience, my resume is fat like him only and my love of art means that I get home and write instead of doing anything else. My love of art does not mean go for coffee, make photocopies or create databases that others consider it a roll to do, although they get paid. What do you do with this anger? Do you stop working?
Protest.
Toma will eat the Ni-Ni and potatoes.
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