Roma. The bus. A pickpocket.
Say goodbye to your photocamera, Buzzy. It's gone with the wind, gone in his pocket.
It's not the camera. Okay, it was just new, I had it for my birthday. But the photos. All my photos from Rome. 500 photos. Gone like that, in a few seconds. I'll try to buy another camera (but it's not tomorrow that I'll have the money for), but I'll never have back my photos, and that kills me. I didn't even see them in my computer... Hey fucking thief, if you read that (why not?), can you send me my memory card? Leave a message and I'll give you my adress. Thank you.

ps: anyway, you're fucking great. I didn't see anything, I didn't feel anything, and I had my hand on my bag. So I hate you, but I still admire you. If you become suddenly very generous, can you give me back my photos, my camera, and teach me how you do?

See ya! I'm waiting for you call.

Your little and innocent victim.