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A minha manhã
Hoje tinha muitas coisas para fazer, mas estava com preguiça. Acordei cedo, tomei o café da manhã e li um pouco enquanto a chuva batia nas janelas. Eu acho que a tormenta foi uma das razões da minha preguiça. Só tinha vontade de ficar deitada no sofá durante toda a manhã. Mas depois de tomar banho, finalmente estudei um pouco. Agora estou me arrependendo de não ter feito tudo o que tinha que fazer de manhã, porque tenho que fazê-lo à tarde.
May 2, 2025
Deutsch sprechen
Es gibt in der Oberschule, bei der ich arbeite, eine deutsche Lehrer. Im Lehrerzimmer sind unsere Schriebtische nachbar. Als ich gestern weggegangen bin, habe ich ihr „gute Wochenende“ gesagt. Sie hat überrascht, und mir gesagt, dass ich „gutes Wochenende“ sagen soll. Ich habe gewöhnlich keine Gelegenheit, Deutsch zu sprechen, weshalb das mir einen Spaß gemacht.
May 2, 2025
May 2, 2025
我家乡 Hsk2
我家乡是一个在意大利农村的小地方，在一座大城市的北边。那里有山也有河，风景四季都很漂亮。虽然是小地方，但是很热闹，不吵， 这里肯定可以好休息。人们很友好，也很热情。
我小的时候每个周末跟我家人一起去那儿。我妈妈一直说，你一学完，就可以过去看朋友。那时候我很开心。上个星期我们回那儿，先去看了老朋友，然后进了我们的老家去，跟家人一起吃了饭。我已经去过很多地方了，但是这是我最喜欢的地方
(if you have any advice or something i could add to the text to make it better i'd love to read your suggestions ;)
May 2, 2025
May 2, 2025
Mon voyage en France
Récemment, j'ai voyage à un petit village Barjon en Bourgogne. J'y ai resté dans un château 2 semaines. C'étais mon premier fois en Bourgogne et avant le château j'ai voyagé à Dijon quelques jours.
Au château, j'y faisais du bénévolat. Je coupais les pierres à construire un mur et je faisais du jardinage. Il y avait plusieurs autres qui faisais du bénévolat. J'ai aimé le travail et d'ailleurs, on se parlais et partagais beaucoup tous les jours.
C'était mon trois fois faire du bénévolat en France. J'ai trouvé cette fois vraiment plus facile que le prémier. Quand on habite dans la maison d'étranger il y a plusieurs choses que seront peut-être difficule. J'ai appris de les experiences.
May 2, 2025
May 2, 2025
My Grandpa Is a Giant Schnauzer
Chapter Three: The Research Vessel
I wanted to bury Grandpa. As he asked. At sea.
He lay in the boat, covered with sailcloth. His hands — cold. His face — like he had simply fallen asleep.
I tried to lift him. Hooked my arms under his shoulders. It didn’t work. Too heavy. And I — too small.
"Don’t strain yourself," the dog said. "They’ll come. They’ll help."
I nodded. Then we went to the hatch.
The traces of digging were still there. The sand around it was loose, tamped down. If someone came close — they’d know.
"Pour water over it," the dog said. "Run to the boat, get the bag, fill it with water, and come back."
I did exactly that. Once back, I smoothed the sand and sprinkled the water gently. The sand darkened, settled.
"More branches," he said. "Old ones."
We found driftwood — dry, pale limbs torn loose by the storm. We scattered them around, casually. As if they’d been thrown up by the sea. On top — some seaweed. When we stepped back, it looked ordinary.
"A fire," the dog said. "We need smoke. They’ll see us then."
I fetched the flint from the boat. We gathered a pile: dry boards, broken pieces of the dryer, branches. The fire wouldn’t catch at first. I got frustrated, striking again and again. Then — suddenly — it flared up. Crackled, hissed. Smelled like home.
We ate. The food was strange. Tasted of fish and nuts.
The dog ate silently, glancing at me now and then. Then curled up nearby.
When darkness finally settled, I spread the sailcloth. It was warm by the fire. The dog — close. I closed my eyes, listening to him breathe.
By morning, the smoke had nearly faded. But Grandpa woke me.
“He’s coming.”
“What? Who?”
The dog was watching the horizon. Out there — a dot. White. A ship.
I rushed to the fire. There was hardly any dry wood left, but I ran along the shore and found a few boards broken by the storm. I tossed them onto the flames. On top — some branches with green leaves still clinging. The smoke rose in a pillar. Thick, grey. Impossible to miss.
We stood side by side — me and my Grandpa. He sniffed the air slightly, as if sensing: everything was about to change.
The ship dropped anchor about three hundred meters from shore. Its white hull gleamed in the sun. Antennas above the bridge, a flag, a pair of lifebuoys. A boat unhooked from the side — inflatable, with a motor, the color of sunset. Five people in it: two men in matching jackets, and three in life vests — two women and one older man with glasses and silver hair.
The boat sliced through the water, hurrying to meet the land.
I stood by the fire. The dog sat next to me, looking straight ahead. I wrapped my arms around his neck. My hands were damp, but not from fear — more from how fast everything was happening.
When the boat came closer, one of the sailors jumped into the water and grabbed the side. The engine cut. The boat’s nose bumped the shallows. They all climbed ashore and pulled it further up.
The first to speak was a woman. Ash-blonde hair tied back, a serious face, no makeup. Her voice — firm, but quiet:
“May we approach?”
I nodded. The dog raised his ears, but didn’t move.
The woman stepped onto the sand. Behind her — a younger woman, in a bright windbreaker, a camera strapped to her chest. The others stayed by the boat.
“My name is Louise,” she said. “We received the signal. We’ve come for you.”
I nodded again. Words felt unnecessary.
“Are you… are you alone here?”
I pointed toward the boat. Beneath the sailcloth, my grandfather lay.
Louise looked. She didn’t ask anything. Just nodded softly. Her companion — the one with the camera — snapped a quiet shot. Then lowered it.
“What’s your name?” Louise asked.
I opened my mouth, but no real words came out. And then — as if it was the only thing left to do — I cried.
At first, silently. Then in gasps. Then for real.
I sat down in the sand, pressed my face into the dog’s fur. He didn’t move. Only gently touched my cheek with his nose.
Louise didn’t touch me. She just crouched nearby. The younger one stood beside her.
“It’s all right,” she said at last. “I’m Arina. We’re here.”
I nodded. Through tears. Through shaking. Because it was true — they were here.
And Grandpa… he was still here too. Sitting next to me. Breathing. Looking people in the eyes. And keeping watch.
“We need to bury Grandpa,” I said. “He asked… to be returned to the sea.”
I tried. I really did. But he was too heavy — I finally admitted through the tears.
The rest of it passed in a fog.
Two sailors — one thin, with reddish whiskers and glasses, the other broad-shouldered, dark-skinned, his brow lined like folded sails — just nodded. No questions. They looked at me, and somehow, they understood everything.
They wrapped Grandpa’s body carefully in the sailcloth. Slipped in a few flat stones — heavy, like all the unspoken wishes he had left behind. Tied the cloth tight with marine knots, clean and firm.
The dog, the two men, and I got into our old boat. The inflatable stayed on shore. This was our farewell.
We rowed out to where the water deepened. It was dark here. Quiet. As if the sea was preparing to take him back.
I sat at the stern with the dog. The boat rocked gently. No one spoke. Only the sound of oars and the creak of worn wood.
“All right. Say your goodbyes,” the red-haired one said. His voice was low, but steady.
I hugged the bundle — not tightly, just like before. The dog nudged it too, resting his muzzle on my knees.
Then, gently, the men lifted him and let go.
The sailcloth floated briefly, hesitated… then sank, as if it knew the way. A trail of bubbles rose behind him.
The dog and I watched the spot for a long time. We just sat there. Like after a conversation that’s ended, but still echoes inside. The sailors rowed back in silence.
On shore, they flipped the boat, looped the rope twice around a root — the kind of knot you tie when you plan to return. Or when you do something right. For real. Like professionals — not thinking, just knowing.
While we were gone, the rest of the crew had explored the shoreline. They gathered what they could — signs of the storm, broken things. Somewhere they found Aunt Miriam’s cloth doll, half-buried in the sand. Arina captured it all on her camera.
We climbed into the inflatable boat. The island shrank behind us. The smoke from our fire still drifted upward, as if waving goodbye.
We moved swiftly across the water, the surface smooth as glass. The boat barely bounced on the waves, as if the sea itself was carrying us gently toward a new chapter.
On board, everything smelled of iron, salt, and rope. The metal steps burned under the sun, the lines were wet and heavy. Around us, people moved quickly: someone tossed the anchor line, someone checked a tablet, someone else stood ready with a first-aid kit.
It was noisy — but not frightening.
Like being inside a machine that knew exactly what it was doing.Everything was loud, but not frightening — like a well-oiled machine at work.
I stood in my life jacket, still wearing my torn shirt, the dog pressed to my side. I didn’t know where to look. I wanted to hold Grandpa’s hand — just to keep myself from drifting inward.
Louise placed a hand on my shoulder — firm, but without pressure. She turned me toward the people waiting at the top of the steps.
“This is Captain Jules Branc,” she said.
The man had graying temples, neat mustache, a tired face. He nodded. He didn’t smile, but looked at me steadily — almost fatherly. I held out my hand. He shook it firmly, then smiled.
“Doctor Manuel Serrano,” Louise continued.
A short man with gentle eyes and fingers that looked like they were afraid to break anything. He said nothing, just studied my face and smiled as well.
“Christian Oberon — our technician,” she added, motioning to a tall man with a short beard. He nodded to me silently.
“And this is Maren Jacquet,” she said.
A freckled redhead with broad shoulders. He crouched and held out a hand to the dog.
“What’s your name, buddy?”
The dog didn’t answer. Just stared. But didn’t look away.
“And Remi Legrand,” the captain added. Remi, like the others, shook my hand.
Then the doctor examined me again. He listened to my chest, tapped my back. Said I was fine. Hungry — yes. Exhausted — yes. But alive. And that’s what mattered.
“He just needs to eat,” the doctor said.
I didn’t quite understand what he meant, but I nodded.
Louise led me across the deck.
“Come on. I’ll show you the ship.”
She showed me where things were: how the hatches opened, where the galley was, the mess hall, the common spaces. She spoke calmly — not like I was a child, but like I was one of the crew.
“For now, you’ll stay with me,” she said. “It’ll be easier. I understand your language better than the others.”
I just nodded.
In the mess hall, they were already waiting. They brought simple food: a bit of rice, stewed fish, some bread. It smelled good. Louise told me to eat slowly — you shouldn’t eat too much after going hungry.
The dog ate beside me, straight from a bowl on the floor.
Then we went to the cabin. Small, light. Two bunks: one made up, the other stacked with books and boxes. “It’s yours now,” Louise said, clearing the bunk.
“Go ahead and change — we’ll get your clothes washed.”
I took everything off and handed it to her. She nodded silently and told me to wrap myself in a sheet for now. Then she left with my bundle.
I slipped under the sheet, bare. The dog immediately jumped in beside me. He lay down close, resting his head on my legs.
I fell asleep instantly. I don’t remember any sounds, any feelings.
It was like someone switched me off.
I woke to find the dog sitting next to me, watching me, unmoving — like he had stood guard the whole time.
On the table lay a cloth doll — clean. Miriam’s. The same one. Now — mine.
The dog gave a soft bark. The door creaked open. Louise peeked in.
“How are you?”
I nodded.
She came in, sat down on the edge of the bunk, and held out some clothes.
“Try these on,” she said. “Yours are still drying.”
The shirt was red, with letters across the front. I couldn’t read them — not in this language.
The shorts were clearly someone else’s — too soft, with a button on the side. Someone had stitched them tighter so they wouldn’t fall off.
Then she gave me sneakers.
“I’m better barefoot,” I said.
“The deck gets hot,” she replied. “Trust me — in an hour you’ll ask for shoes yourself.”
I shrugged but put them on.
Then she started talking — about the ship, the people here, what would happen next.
I nodded. Listened.
Sometimes I looked at the dog.
He understood everything.
“This is a research vessel,” she said. “We study the Sargasso Sea. Try to save what’s left of the ocean.”
“Why try?” I asked. “Why not just save it?”
She shrugged.
“Because it takes a lot of money. And we don’t have much. Just enough to study.”
I thought about that. Then said:
“What if I help?”
She smiled, like it was a joke. But I didn’t smile back.
“I have treasure. Gold. A lot.”
That made her quiet.
“What treasure?”
I looked at the dog. He didn’t move — just watched me.
“My grandpa’s. He found it. Hid it in a cave. I can show you.”
Louise didn’t say anything. Just watched as I reached under the pillow and pulled out the little bundle.
It was tied tight so it wouldn’t rattle.
I untied it carefully.
The coins slid into my palm. I picked one — smooth, with a crown and little letters along the edge — and held it out to her.
She took it gently, like it might break. Looked at it. Then gave it back.
She didn’t say a word. Just left.
She came back with the captain.
“May I?” he asked.
I nodded.
He took the coin, brought it close to his eyes. Turned it over slowly. Then looked at Louise.
“Back to the island. Now. Before it gets dark.”
They left quickly. I heard their footsteps on the deck. Then a siren — one long, low sound. The captain’s voice came through the speaker:
“Changing course. Back to shore. Full turn.”
The ship began to turn. In the distance, the outline of L’Île-Échouée returned.
The sky was turning pink.
The water looked like melted metal.
We weren’t going back for hope this time.
We were going back because we knew.
The ship dropped anchor in the same lagoon.
The first boat went with the captain, Louise, two sailors, and the doctor.
I was in the second boat.
The dog pressed his nose into my palm — like he knew something big was about to happen.
When we landed, almost everyone was already there — all looking at me.
“Show us,” the captain said.
I led them up the hill — to the place Grandpa and I had dug.
I pushed aside the branches. Pointed.
They started digging. First with hands, then with shovels from the boat.
Not long after, the hatch showed through the sand — damp, closed.
“This it?” the captain asked.
I nodded.
They pried it open together.
Damp air rose from below.
Captain Jules Branc turned on his flashlight and went down first.
We waited.
Then we heard his voice:
“You won’t believe it.”
Louise and Arina followed.
I stayed up top, holding on to the dog’s fur.
Then came the shouting:
“We found it! Full crates! Coins! Rings! Some kind of map!”
They went down one by one. Carefully.
Nothing was touched.
Everything was logged.
But even from above — I could see.
It was real.
Shelves with gold and copper and silver.
Chests with carved lids.
Necklaces. Odd-shaped bars.
Boxes. Little statues.
All dry.
All waiting.
“Five million easy,” someone said. “Maybe more.”
When they came back up, the captain looked at me.
“You found this?”
I nodded. Then said:
“It’s Grandpa’s.”
The captain took off his hat. Ran a hand through his hair.
“We’ll call in the archaeologists. Everything needs to be logged properly.
Seal the hatch. No one goes back down until they arrive.”
He turned to the others.
“We’ll set up camp right here — at the entrance.
We keep watch in shifts.
Seal the hatch. Make sure it holds.”
That evening we pitched the tents.
Boiled tea.
The dog curled up by the fire. I lay beside him.
The fire crackled.
And in the dark, metal rings and rope-wrapped crates glinted —
as if the island was waking up again.
But this time — with our footprints.
With our story.
To be continued...
May 2, 2025
May 2, 2025
Zevkli bir gün
Fransada dün bir tatildi. Doğada dolaştıp biraz leylak kopardım. Güneş parlıyordum, ormanın ağaçları sağlıklıdı. Birkaç yıl önce, kuraklık yüzünden ağaçlar hasta olduğukları hatırlıyorum. Leylaktan çok hoşlaniyorum: bu çiçek güzel ve çok iyi kokar! Bu gün çok zevklidi. En küçük şeyler sık sık yaşamın en büyük keyfleri!
May 2, 2025
El Día del Trabajador
Actualmente en Francia, estamos aprovechando un fin de semana de cuatro días.
Ayer, el 1 de mayo, fue un día festivo por el Día del Trabajador.
Como era un jueves, mucha gente eligió tomar un día de vacaciones hoy para hacer un fin de semana más largo.
Aquí eso se llama "un puente".
¿Hay una palabra específica para esto en español?
May 2, 2025
El tiempo
En medio de los estragos de un amor que se ha convertido en leche podrida,
se queda la esperanza de devolver el tiempo robado por la daga encajada.
Nos desarma por su audacia al mostrarnos la verdad entre un mar de máscaras,
cuyas facetas convencidas nos aportan comodidad.
Su espada es nuestro gemelo,
un prójimo que nos amenaza con su potestad,
desnudándonos para destacar una verdad incómoda
que solamente responde al dueño del reloj de arena.
Una quimera, sería inconcebible reconocerle en plena vista;
¡No te rindas! La capa de invisibilidad es efímera.
Las sombras de una historia tan vieja como el tiempo propio
nos traicionan con su veracidad,
por chillar lo que nadie se atreve a decir.
Como un hombre moribundo, hundiéndose bajo la melancolía
de un sueño apenas correspondido,
nos quedamos con los recuerdos agridulces de una vitalidad olvidada.
Fuimos los jueces que abogaron por la justicia de un crimen insípido,
privándonos y dejándonos impotentes frente al escuadrón de fusilamiento
por nuestros propios delitos.
El dedo que acusa y la piel que arde,
una paradoja que disimulamos con los sermones ricuosos.
La única carrera que queremos perder,
un salto brusco contra nuestra propia mortalidad.
Lo que logramos es la condena perpetua
de cosechar lo que cosimos.
May 2, 2025
Mein langweiliges Leben
Ich mache die gleiche Dinge jeden Tag und es ist sehr langweilig. Manchmal habe ich keine Lust darauf. Mein Leben ist nicht interessant. Jetzt wohne ich allein und habe niemand, mit wem ich sprechen kann. Meine Eltern sind beschäftigt und leider habe ich keine Freunde. Leider habe ich keine Lust Freunde zu machen. Wie man kann Freunde haben? Wo soll ich gehen? Ich habe Keine Ahnung.
May 2, 2025
May 2, 2025
好きな音楽
私は音楽を聞くのが好きだ。たくさんの音楽ストリーミングサービスがあるけど、個人的にSpotifyを使っている。
現在、お気に入りのアーティストは稲葉曇だろう。彼の最も人気がある歌じゃなくても、お気に入りの彼によって書かれた歌は「私は雨」だ。ひところ、一週間で400度以上それを聞いちゃったよ。（私は問題があるね。）もちろん、他の歌も聞いている。例えば、稲葉曇の「ハローマリーナ」と「レイニーブーツ」も好きだ。
Adoの音楽も好きだ。それをよく聞いたものだ。彼女は歌うのが本当に上手だね。早く声の音色を変えられる技能はすごいね。今、Adoの2度目の世界ツアーをしているし、今月の後半に演奏するためにここに来る。チケットが発売されるなり、すぐ買った。楽しみにしている！私はその時に経験について書く。とにかく、お気に入りのAdoによって書かれた歌は「ギラギラ」と「心という名の不可解」だ。
だが、勉強中の時に、時々むしろクラシック音楽かジャズを聞く。歌詞がある歌に気を取られることがあるから。また、英語話者なのに、実は不思議と英語の歌をあまり聞かないよ。もちろん、聞いている英語の歌があるけど、日本語の歌に比べてほぼ全然聞かない。
あなたは何を聞くのが好きの？
（「あなた」を使った方がいいの？ちょっと無礼なことがあると聞いたけど、それ以外に使える単語が知らない。）
May 2, 2025
Venerdì 2 maggio
Oggi non ho avuto nemmeno il tempo di morire, quindi non ho passato neanche 10 minuti su internet, a parte scrivere qui.
Ho provato a cucinare un nuovo piatto e spero che sia delizioso. Lo assaggerò durante la pausa pranzo.
Sebbene non sembri molto appetitoso, almeno saprò di aver fatto del mio meglio.
May 2, 2025
I quit my job
Today is my final day at work. I have 9 years in here, and now I'm out. I felt I wasn't learning anything new at work, there was no opportunity for improvement or promotion, and my motivation had waned. Before leaving, I felt scared about the uncertainty of unemployment and the lack of immediate income. But if I don't leave, I will slowly be dying from this job. And finally, I talked with my boss and he also agreed with me. He felt very regretful but also glad that I could actively seek a new opportunity, something he was unable to do at my age.
For 9 years, I have used Japanese day by day at work, I even speak Japanese unconsciously at home with my wife (my wife and I work at the same company). As a result, my other language skills, English and Korean, have declined. I've almost forgotten Korean grammar, and my English fluency has decreased. During the upcoming unemployment period (maybe a month), I will try to improve that, first with English.
Hope I will be better soon by writing every day.
May 2, 2025
The importance of technology
Nowadays, technology became indispensable for everyone either child or old people.
To connect with world today is highly easy and quickly done with the help of technology. Of course, mobile phones, computers and others help to build a great connection between people around the world.
Also, technology makes many things easy even though some times its can became a source of entertainment moreover when we use to use technology to entertain ourselves.
In sum, technology makes easy many things, previously hard to complete.
May 2, 2025
How to stop procrastinating
Recently, I noticed that I started delaying my tasks in order to get some extra leisure time. The biggest problem with this approach for me was that I knew that I had some activities to complete, hence I did not fully enjoy this additional "free" time. After a few such days I understood the necessity of changes in my daily routine. I bought a small spiral notebook and started to make a to-do list on each page daily. My idea was to write down some essential tasks to complete throughout the whole day in order to not have moments of boredom at all. Additionally, If I were to complete all my tasks on time, I would have an additional half an hour for recreation, and I would have enjoyed it much more, since I would have knew that I achieved everything that I wanted for that day. This approach seems to be working for me.
May 2, 2025
Un tier d’année
On est le 2 mai 2025 et franchement cette une dinguerie. Pourquoi, l’année va très rapidement à mon avis. Ça va vraiment bien pour moi. J’ai économisé assez d’argent et je suis contente! La meilleure chose, j’améliore mon niveau en français. Je pense que je suis au niveau B1 et j’ai fini ni un, mais deux livres de grammaire en français en seulement trois mois. Honnêtement je suis complètement ravie! Je travaille toujours très dur envers mes cibles.
May 2, 2025
Mí Día (5-1-2025)
Feliz Día de Mayo!
Me desperté, y estuví más cansado que mañana de ayer. No durmé mucho. Pero, estudié español durante dos horas esta mañana. Este después de bebí té, pero necesité más. Cuando estuví tabajando, perparé más té. De mi tabajo, cociné muchos sándwiches. De mi trabajo, pregunté que el cliente quiere su sándwich caliente o frío, con o sin tomate, y para aquí o para viajar.
May 2, 2025
Was mag ich draußen machen
Es war immer notwendig für mich, täglich mindestens 30 Minuten draußen zu verbringen. Ich denke, dass sogar eine halbe Stunde von dem Gehen die Laune verbessern kann. In der Nähe von mir gibt es einen Wald, und ich mag dort spazieren. Mittlerweile gibt es zu viele Ablenkungen, deswegen finde ich es ziemlich schwer, außer dem Wald meine Gedanken zu reflektieren. Wenn ich eine Stimmung habe, kann ich während des Spaziergangs Podcasts auf Deutsch oder Musik anhören.
May 2, 2025
Heute
Heute war spaß. Ich werde schnell schreiben, weil ich müde bin.
Heute sind wir viel gelaufen, wir haben Schloss Chapultepec besuchen.
Das Schloss ist in Mexiko Stadt, und im Inneren des Schlosses befindet sich ein Museum.
Wir hatten viel Hunger also sind wir zum Essen gegangen.
Und danach sind wir zu ein Café gegangen, es war sehr schön.
Es war sowohl ein Pflanzengeschäft als auch ein Café.
Ich bestellte einen Matcha mit Erdbeere, so lecker.
Wir kommen gegen acht Uhr zurück.
Ich habe mich gefreut, mehr über mein Land zu erfahren.
Ich habe ein deutschsprachiges Paar gesehen, aber ich bin schüchtern, ich hätte gerne mit ihnen gesprochen, vielleicht nächstes Mal.
May 2, 2025
May 2, 2025
Pourriez vous me donné le niveau CEFR de ce text ? Merçi
Les faits se sont déroulés le lundi 25 mars 2025, dans le 13 ème arrondissement de Paris. Un homme de 31 ans qui conduisait un fourgon blindé a fait un accident avec un camion lorsqu'il transportait l'argent rempli dans les sacs. Puis, des sacs se sont répandus sur la route et des passants ont essayé de le récupérer.
Ensuite, l'un des automobilistes a appelé la police, qui se sont rendus sur les lieux, ont pris la situation en main et ont interrogé le trentenaire. Suite aux interrogations la police a emmené le conducteur au commissariat.
Enfin, les forces de l'ordre ont découvert un petit colis des stupéfiants dans le véhicule lequel appartenait au conducteur et l'ont placé en garde à vue. Une enquête a été ouverte pour déterminer l'origine des stupéfiants.
02:14:36 (UTC)
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