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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=473849" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Old Friends</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Old friends</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>My friends and I are elderly men with protruding bellies, we drink whisky <br>in the evening and talk about the old days; and of friends that went before <br>us. We feel slightly envious of them, as we have yet a death to come. <br>The war in Afghanistan has lasted ten years and might last ten more years<br>this makes us smile for we know wars are endless, like a bad back we have <br>to learn to live with. Little has changed in our life time, avarice and lust for <br>power rule ok. In the bar we talk about football, a game of utter futility.<br>When we leave and see a beautiful girl walking past we don’t bother to turn <br>around for a second glance, what’s the point. When a friend dies, usually of<br>cancer or heart attack, we go to his funeral, drink whisky, shudder and talk <br>about him, sport and the crazy world we live in.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Oskar+Hansen">Oskar Hansen</a><div class=q>
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My friends and I are elderly men with protruding bellies, we drink whisky 
in the evening and talk about the old days; and of friends that went before 
us. We feel slightly envious of them, as we have yet a death to come. 
The war in..."></div>
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