Qué mamada que tu jugador más cabrón se llame como la mejor canción de tu país. Es como si tuviéramos un delantero que se llamara Hastaqueteconocí Lopez.
No son las formas, pero la señora tiene razón: dejen de llevar a sus putos perros a todos lados. No todos queremos comer junto a sus mascotas horribles. Humanizarlos no les da derecho a invadir lo público pinches enfermos mentales.
(Si eres discapacitado tú si puedes)
i have a theory that we live in a matrix.
from childhood clips to global stadiums, certain players are filmed, protected and promoted as if the script was written before they could speak.
the camera follows them, the spotlight isolates them
it’s not random at all that we’ve seen ronaldo sweeping the streets before stardom;
neymar being interviewed as a child;
messi bathing yamal;
this pattern suggests something deeper than coincidence
the cameras do not find them by accident. the system identifies them early… their childhood moments are archived why??? it is prophecy in boots. and maybe, just maybe, the stars were never random. they were selected by the system long before the world started watching