Integrated Creative Sound Blaster X Fi Mb

ViaggiDiMenteEdiMenta_VI

never been to Poland before.
answer to the foggy lens of a young man entirely covered by wool jacket.
It is not clear where it ends wool, if the head or neck, or where he began his jacket, under the chin or around dark trousers.
We set the ticket for a bus that I took it into town. He must get off at Piazza Inwalidow. Not on my tourist map and minimal. I know I have to go south, but I do not know where is the airport of Belize. St. John Paul II.
The wind cuts you hold your breath on that account when (you always think very soon) you may need them to warm your hands or toes.
The machine does not speak English.
Even the bus driver.
Nor me. I
three tickets for three zloty, it seems a good compromise. I do also two two-fifty. Better not throw anything away, nor do wasting precious minutes to a bus that sometimes seems to climb snow and ice sheets without any effort. We

in Kazimierz, but get there after a few wrong of taking a tram stops and thanks to the advice of a Polish nice. Synagogues were not seen, and even the grass houses or roads. Nothing stands out from the background: from earth to heaven everything is white and cold. To land the ice force you to slow that with each passing day, take half of your legs and go ahead on its own. The light in the morning try unsuccessfully to comfort a city of its excited state.



Krakow swarms of people serene. I wonder how an environment can change in and the answers I have given them to me. People crowded in places and drink hot tea that becomes beer over several hours. The dark catch you at four in the afternoon but life goes on as lively as it was always half past twelve p.m.. In the Piazza Grande of Santa Maria the sound of the xylophone, cold does not last as long as he wins the passion and the mulled wine reflects the dark amber color.

Auschwitz and Birkenau have the same color. The temperature at the peak followed the laws of exception. The white balance busts for the white and gray and dark track but covered with white. It's snowing now, crystals. How perfect, you wonder, the geometric formula of evil. My idea of \u200b\u200bthose places is not rinfozata by the physicality of the smell of hair woven blankets of ash. Birkenau gives as much evil can fill a field of snow without borders.
Infinity.
I think there was one thousand Sometimes, there, in those corridors of barbed wire and nothing.
The concept was clear even before, the reality does not help this time, demonstrates. But I had no doubt about it.
You wonder what you would have thought if you had built alongside a stretch of the genus. To do what. What. I wonder how much fear I had to ask. It downed a coffee black, long and watery warms me the temples and unlock his head stuck on that cutting edge.

walk for three hours and my feet are sliding in the snow, the fingers do not feel the cold sting almost più.Il and freezes the blood. You do not get less than thirteen. We are under some degree.

Ravens instead of Krakow will not care. Thousands flock to what I think should be a park and the snow without revealing uniforms.
From my bed at night I look to the window frames and bellows that holds my eye shadow without being alone. Despite the clear sky is crossed by dark smoke from chimneys.

And I fall asleep, with a sloping roof and moan around, believing home.

Where Is My Cervix When I'm Pregnant

Before ...


wash my face before I turned
a multitude of emotions as

get a dress like a blanket as a form
inner
I cried I laughed I cried I loved
'm dead I killed my saved me
created the newspaper of tomorrow will write all my feelings
is the fate of every game I play every year

against the champions that God puts me I cheated many times before

Barre in 2011 and will use every weapon and every
not
every non-weapon-thought and all my window of opportunity

and if it rains during the game? ... will ride the lightning!

FLIGHT SMEAR RIDE AND WALK
EYE AND HAND ... Wand

Indian Women In Saree Showing Boobs From Side

Yggdrasil, Enneagram and The Enigma of solitary







The first two models and the mystery is a tale
what they have in common? very ...
but the utility derived from the point of view
Briefly
Enneagram: used as a model to recognize the masks (persons)
Yggdrasil: the tree of the nine worlds, shamanic model for ... "Travel"
The enigma of the lonely: the story of a journey alchemical

Nine Worlds
memory is an illusion that will make you choose the right card in the deck

but because is right?
ride and why?
this is certainly a mystery, even a ... SECRET

How To Edit Pokemon Games On Mac

Banale Christmas

The banality to say that Christmas I was never bothered.
The fact that this phenomenon was nothing more than a gimmick designed to start the night safe, to save the traders from the crisis, politicians from the duties of shareholders, workers wages from the grip of tight, children from the sober gray of not I am not exaggerating never seemed a real problem.

Not that she did not share the flat truth of these views that the rigor of logic leads to state without frills or lace. Just at Christmas, I always had my head busy elsewhere.
to arrive as early as possible in January, for example.
fault of fatigue in the shops and supermarkets where they serve seasonal and tried to take the best squeezing the juice of agave with the brain, storing and trying to pour it on paper. Inventing falsely telling, building parallel stories that could explain (and justify) my presence there, beyond the objective of earning rental market in August.


When
supermarket instead of my head is always placed between the shoulders upright despite the weight, political and economic, of a shop of fair trade, I stopped feeling the need to justify it.
Christmas time when the hours on the treadmill one another compulsive buying is anti-Newtonian, the body decides that the time had the weight on himself. Choose how to weigh and how much to lighten the mood of that body who uses it. Often seem endless endless hours more than expected. At other times seem to fly out and do things to disappear in a bubble. You made them all. You are still missing all but six inexplicably tired, with aching back and shoulders supported by the muscles cling to the neck, stretched and ready to accompany his arm all over the brain or the consumer so requests. And you can not light out of there, because if you still have the forces to do something, for sure tomorrow you will have less to fix. Conviction rather than strict logic. Things to do never end in a fair trade shop. You bring them home, there peoples dreams, nightmares and speeches.

I think it is the way the fair trade vehicles save.

Let the security that the Christmas sale is not an end in itself. But it is the only alternative for those cooperatives which pre-finance the production months in advance of a work project in Mozambique, Sri Lanka, Ecuador. So that others may work, confident that here, in the old and rich in Europe, their work will be recognized and appreciated, objects and food intrigued the buyer without the right to a fair retriubuzione remains a victim of those conditions that we call space-time cost of involuntary life.

If Christmas is a car save the economy, I do not know. If the empty consumerism of gifts for the force, a gift for the gift, the gift of stock, it is right or not, I do not mean anything. I struggle on value judgments and prefer truth values. I've always struggled on the right or wrong, often through any or no opinion.

Certainly, the fair trade and workers who are part of the pre-work projects financed by large and small homegrown cooperatives like to thank and survive. And if the machine of Christmas can enrich the landowners to create paradoxical imbalance, I am consoled that fair trade is immune from this.

course, not without effort and sacrifice.

I Need A Comic Anime?

Bargello Museum - room ivories



The stories intertwine in a curious way
and one can only thank the book of the three fates
for singing such a stellar year.

There are many births during our own existence
but some are more important than others
seems to give a mystical sense
to everything that surrounds us

violins
are once again ready to play the beginning of
life

HAPPY YULE SYNCHRONOUS

Highlights In Brown Hair - 2010

Ali Thinking of snow



Appearance footprint in the snow that warms
steps reflections of our hands folded ...

fire is only hidden and not see it ...
around and run fast sounds and unicorns.

The stories continue ...
... the next stop will rise to impossible
short pants, a nice red bow and dance

Breeches Of Queen Elizabeth Ii

Street of Fools number quattro_

Jacopo sips his fourth or fifth coffee. The excuse to stay awake or drug that arouses the brain synapses and allows the Augustinian similarities. The acrobatic stop to think hard to get tired and makes spells and drop style.

He stands there, face to the opaque glass of the window. You should write what he feels. Even if you only hear noise. Were asked to record the ears and heart. Calibrate the brain with the immediate sensation.

Vanessa promptly respond to knocks on the door sixteen.
- How are we going? - Taking off the backpack and nods, gathering the hair into a narrow tail. - Not bad. I just heard anything today. Will I get the phone? -
Vanessa nods her head no.
- I do not take care of it. Do not ask favors that you can not.
The delivery of the notebook. Then he attacks a famous tune by Tom Waits.
- James, you visits. From there, in the common room. On va '. I'm here to review things, we talk about it when you return.
reluctantly puts on the sweatshirt and leaves the room.
Marghe waiting for him in the common room, a short-sleeved shirt for heating rises.
and it seems the only heartening.
office followed by a kiss on his forehead. But contact with the skin of the head she cares. He starts dancing monsters and there is no room for pleasantries.
The screams attracted the attention and a tall man in his forties with a wrinkled shirt moves weight toward the bedroom. Inside Vanessa rises suddenly. Glide to the ground pad and pencil.
- Help me to put it on bed.
- I have to write, I have to write down Vanessa. I've heard. I've heard. Write it down.
Vanessa looks at the doctor without asking questions. The doctor does not turn the boy on the bed system. He holds it still. And she falls asleep with the usual James infernal potion.



asleep and slips into bed wet. He rubs up Marghe seeking comfort. But the noise of the sheets against the skin is as strong as the hands on the microphone on when the bow waiting room in silence the proclamation.

Sometimes Vanessa is kind.
Although low paid only a psychologist.
is the one with James that not even a fucking stage you have chosen.
He had asked her to work with kids.
They gave her what there was.
A boy that there is too much with the head, they said.
and she had become fond of the same.
And now, with the contract expired for months, continues unabated to want to see what no one wants to see Jacob. A case of intuition hearing all within his body and his soul frayed. Tell you everything. Nightmares, meetings, fear. During periods of internment is able to observe the slightest reaction. When he is out if the recount does. Write. Mimic.

James now seems clear lying under the sheets. Each activity of his body seems dormant. They've lifted the phone for two days because at night he wrote a message to the other, for what he felt. They made a game to see if they were noises outside or inside of him. And at night he could feel more than a day.
- That change, in or out of me - he told her one evening while they read along with the summary of the previous day. - Excuse me? - Vanessa did not want to return later that evening.
- I mean, I hear voices, noises. That they are inside or outside of me who cares? Import them and they make me feel out of the brain. It should be lowered the volume, do not fall asleep the brain, the frequency adjustment of that shit that I can not hear - she looked at him hard. Though fascinated, began to be impatient with the usual questions.
- We must understand if they are true noise Jacopo. You may feel your brain working, for example. This is true even if a noise inside. You heard him sing. Feel the noise it makes when it thinks your brain, your organs when they work. Noises are real? Or are you mad, and Jack is another type of problem, something completely different? You follow me? -

Jacopo not followed. Looking
read his notes, tired and hot, even with the jacket James and his knapsack on his back had felt the blood go the wrong way.
descend, descend, descend. A waterfall of liquid lenses, such as the Mississippi.

And screaming like a madman had thrown the above.

Invitation Card Matters

friend



There are various parts that make me
often have a stone in your shoe or a
enthusiasm
fixed or sometimes is a future that speaks to me or my shadow

everything becomes everyday practice of thought
concatenating the last verses from my secret cellar.

all ... but I can see how many moons!

Can Tendonitis Be Cured

Street # 4 # 3 tre_ number of fools of fools

- Out!
curses against the door of the cock.
- Vanessa, get out of there or the gap to kick it - Football - door - football - of - the latest football is empty and James almost lost his balance.
The doors open soon, leaving a portly friar. I punched the wrists seem Glove challenge.
- go back to Jacopo home, after midnight. It should be 'to sleep I go there too.
The friar follows the movements and rotates toward the street flooded by the light orange in Milan the night. The squalor peripheral spreads. James feels to die.
- Are you singing in there, let me go - he says.
- James please do not be silly. There is no function at night, good God, Get out of here.
- Hymns. Sing to the Lord. Let me in at all hours. Sing while
stares with glassy eyes, a watery blue that seem like a gray background of the lake. The photos of the newspapers or the eyes of the dogs lost the traffic lights.
- Vanessa dressed in white cotton, please, listen to me, monk. And I take her home. I do not make noise.
- No Vanessa. Jacopo I lost my patience. Here is your return, paid the meter. Just do not you see here, while noises like a jerk and I wake up in the people of the island. And come the day, the next time.
closes the door suddenly, without remorse. The songs seem a distant bird.
Jacopo remains firm out there. Panting. The arcade echoes of his breath heavy.
- I do not want, fine.
Whispering palms flat on the warm wood, the floor of a loft vertically rotated ninety degrees. With the grand piano, acrobat experienced. A strange and subdued style, it is said. You've always had my dear. Mumbles. Dries saliva with the elbows.
wire spider's face plastered.
Hands in pocket reaches the sidewalk side. Then
walks like a zombie, behind the neon of a comet Pakistani kebabbaro more tired than him.
While eating, ears dilate, and a noise penetrates the eardrums. The nice onnubilamento who opens his mouth and feel younger. But James looks at his shoulders and turns constantly. You will hear later. Or are your soles to make his steps.
you ask.
someone follows him, we hear the rhythmic breathing.
must be her.



She did that night. He
closure.
The turns, the small hours.
He lost the phone, keys, smoking.
has a flat tire and drag to walk home like a jerk.

His bike follows him like a faithful Doberman. Up to
Maciachini. And beyond.

Dinosaur King Card Blog

Via due_ number # 2

His head bounces off the glass, but James and sleeps all the fuss is part of sleep.
Certainly not the dream that begins and ends without warning and leave you alone to manage the content. The phone rings, his body trembles and attention around the recalibrating.
- Hello - does he do with his bear. But the phone is silent and Vanessa stares from the front seat - You have the vibration? - James mentions no with the head and puts the phone in your pocket. It has no vibration. It must have been mistaken.

slips through the ground and spun three stops nails at Porta Venezia. James goes down among the rustling of the heavy and light jackets in October. Hides his chin in the collar of his jacket and heads straight to the aquarium shop. Log in and apologizes for the delay of chronic public transport. Vanessa shrugs and lays down the computer as hypnotized. He is trying to reserve the flight to Marrakech about ten minutes, the page slow to load.
James, as usual, goes downstairs and turn off and turn on the switch. The neon lights of the tanks plan come to life, one after another. No respect for the harmonic consonance of the universe that is by definition the most perfect timing. Again the reassuring hum of an electrical installation works. As a reminder that it is God who decides.

A tub is secluded in the dark. It burned again, agrees James throwing open the doors of the cabinet. His eyes slide inventory of forms and surfaces of the cardboard boxes verdigialle looking for a replacement bulb.
- Where do I get to 5 percent UVB? - Shout turned towards the stairs.
Vanessa is not responding. Jacopo stiffens and a kick in the third drawer that opens only with his violent ways. Within only fluorescent light bulbs. The filter draws water effects dark blue aurora borealis. Opt for one of those 9-watt and mounted on the support dark. Horned Frogs stone listen to his gestures. The screw quick Jacopo echoes within the walls of glass. He closes his eyes and felt something in the water and swim away on the bottom.



driving and hearing the frogs in search of mate. The croaking of male female charms and wins the suit. But the horned frog refuses to tighten the James and the screeching of the bulb against the foil of the disorder as a rub cutlery.

Sometimes horned frogs mate for days.
James has a birthmark that controls the head.

The bulb does not want screwed. The supports on the table. With one click
grabs the frog and if it rests on the hinge of his jeans. With your hand freezes to keep it from escaping. She moves over him.
It leaves no way out plastic or clear the mind. I remain, with eyes open and out of focus, for incalculable time and without audio.
Then the frog slips through your fingers on the floor. It does not matter. Jacob cried aloud and called Vanessa because Vanessa falls. No one answers. Above only the snoring of filters and the hum of the air bubbles that scale heavy water.

James, sweat, salt.

The computer asks him black, seems to be off for days. With the screen protected by a thick membrane of dust.

should be playing for Marrachek .

- Excuse me, I need three boxes - James did not notice, but a customer's response indicates an acidifying solution on the shelf behind the counter. Nods to the request and goes downstairs. Open the wardrobe. Open the top drawer and take the required product. It dates.
- Here, I'm sorry I can not use the case. I think the girl who falls short is the tickets. I must apologize.
The man seems unmoved. In a hurry to go out and pay cash without receipt.
-bye -
-bye - he does, with the money of dirty paper stuck to the palm of your hand.
The door opens and closes, a wind that is gaining ground and cut to just below the top of James.

A t-shirt Faith No More. Over his nearly three decades played.

What Colour Are The Flight Suits In Top Gun

Street of Fools number (zero) uno_ # 1

Sitting at the computer at six in the morning. James expects the rain stops.
The water that rushes the hole the brain. It's as if they infiltrate the cranial nerves and cushion tired and weary of smoke. The noise contaminates all the action. The idea that driving flakes and confusing.
eyes wide open staring at the screen.
They forget even the jokes and dialogues of the characters. The volume is turned down, so does the same. He has only to imagine the situation. It is too tired to be alert and vigilant to sleep too.

Hearing is the seventh sense, Vanessa had once joked, with the history of audiometric testing anywhere. But he had taken it seriously and had made them all. Eventually it was concluded that the battery could have improved his condition experienced listener. Deafened by itself, it was said, he would have finished with the continuous presence of voices, sounds and noises. Indispensable companions who condemned him to a solitude of exception.

not hear himself.



Vanessa asked him if he were all part of his program of self-destruction. Approved by the City. And patented by Microsoft.

James does not remember. But he had said no.

to sleep, someone like him, you have to concentrate.
On a clear thought, the scene of a movie. The right formula, she gets off the train, the hot air of meters beneath the thighs and dark stockings. The dog who would like cappuccino color leaking and lying on the Persian rug.
With a single thought not to feel successful.
But this morning, James has good thoughts. And the cocks that can not sleep.

quarter of an hour passes and thundering water does not seem to be silent.
His mother soaked Prozac wakes early and goes forth like a ghost, deaf on the carpet. Sitting under the kitchen appliances are turned off and whispers to the flashing lights of the washing machine will go. The voice hisses angrily upon waking nightmares. The tone is peremptory, dry, sometimes ascending. Repeats words without meaning. They seem to magic spells of a powerful witch. Or remember that as nausea torment those who want to forget.

menate.

James is accustomed to the discomfort of his mother, even if they are still addicted.
A rap at the desk with his hands on the wheel and the seat slides up the banister. Looks out from under just whispers in solo. Nothing good in the rising sun. Sometimes there would be a party. Most of us falls, if you are half asleep.

Here it may be a good thought. Best advantage.
It tries and tries to draw. Sleep an hour before having to wake up again. With a stroke of his hands down the screen of his laptop and sits on the bed of Marge sleeping. The lies down nearby, she feels for him and dodges place.
The watch measures, the count drops, James beat out the rhythm of his heart.
Ammassa whispers on the water. The coffee mumbling and shuffling restlessly. The outbreak of the head to feel her pulse. It collapses into a sleep hard and wet.

Treat Swollen Skin Around Toe From Pedicure

Agreements for 1001 songs in concert


This makes me want to know how to thread the mazes of
between places, but nowhere can I find the real values \u200b\u200b
that make me think but do not be.
do?
the only thing you can ... change the rules and determine
my courage, their threshold of reality.
Everything resonates with new colors, and more are being more acute, more research
captures result in optical border, where at last
determination that counts.
It 's like talking to the wind, in addition to the words
will also give you a direction and a push.
Everything is smooth, everything whispers songs ever
sung and emotions like horses galloping free

Barbarico thunder that shatters the windows of having

is the poetry that immerses the rooms
ego in a continuous flow of emotional knowledge,
where "there" is also a field trees and endless skies

Navman Pin570 Software

Umbrellas chicken

Hugh's grandmother has an umbrella with feathers.
looks like a chicken with its wings spread. Hugh looked at him carefully from under the protection of Magretta arm that keeps him caught his grandmother.

The grandmother of Hugh broom weeds next to the chicken coop. Herbs mysterious and nameless.
do not understand how they can be born in the garden, the people we have made and when. Surely it was during the night when everyone is asleep and no one is there to establish who enters and leaves from the garden town.

rains and Ugo nibbling a sandwich of white bread sitting on the stairs of the entrance of the house. Grandma grabs a chicken for the feet, the strong shake like an umbrella that will not open up the handbag and pulls the neck until the stop fidgeting. To which the bird winks to Hugh that sniffs and looks away, turning away.
Grandma whispers in the wind and good advice, quiet, puts his paws on the shoulders of chicken, chicken mushroom opens and here again the umbrella of feathers. So sheltered, still wet from the garden zozzerie broom weed and tried and austere winter. Then, to warm up, have dinner with soup, meat and chicken wings.



One day, my grandmother got sick of those to stay in bed for days. Hugh decided to make her the favor of going to the garden to weed.
Eye of carrots, said the old woman, who seem to waste but are also good raw.
Eye on the chickens, he said again that are good in the pot, eggs and umbrella.
And Ugo soiled, baby, then end up like the smell of the food moist and juicy Rostu.

(Rostu Ciccio is the dog of Mary, but we are not interested to know more).

Ugo Thus ended the garden and tried unsuccessfully to tame chickens and chickens to cover his Fat Head when the rain seemed to last forever. The animals did not like rowdy immolate the poor Ugo each end of the day which ended up soaked. So he began to take an umbrella.
-looking than force me to do, two-bit presumptuous chickens! - He complained about every holy dreary morning.
-is because there like me that can not be my umbrella? - Inflation offended.
So one sunny morning with clear skies and cold, two young chickens ambassadors led to Hugh his case.

-My dear, with permission .- It crouched low at his feet. A whistle to attract attention. - Sir Hugh, have you ever tried to talk to? Sing some dirge from chicken before you get us the neck and, by golly, not a caress, on his shoulders like a sack of potatoes? -
Ugo rolled his eyes for a moment and thought to have first application of 'The phone . But the hens continued:
chickens-we are decent. We sacrifice to your dishes and umbrellas as you repair the heads only in exchange for a treatment that does justice to our cause. - Wagging his tail and retreated as poodles dandy.

was how my grandmother, God rest his soul, tried to teach Hugh how to deal with plants and birds simply by showing the silent craft with a thousand examples. But he was talking to the chickens and chickens that Hugh learned to perfection.

How I Remove Spectacles From My Eyes

Thor



Singing with my ancestors Icelandic
perhaps as shadows secluded in the hope of being heard or
was something different from the pious prayers of the temperate Black Christ?
but the magic of the blood of those who were awakened something in me
is a web of DNA that vibrates ...

Centoquarantatre times seven battles with
nodes broken tree trunks and roots torn
Arabian victories crowned
mighty swords and spears in hand
acute with honor and loyalty always
the walls of the pastures are narrow memories ..
rises and Nike Thor ..
my soul, I hear you ask
never betray you saw my blood?
or desperate cry in front of Hecate?
do not deny the pain or the rain of swords?
maybe ... and hobbled the memories of ancient times.

About me explain the mystery brochure with silver?
a false guru who rely?
teachers say they are all in the injury and correctness


He takes a song inside of me a song of iron

the hard hooves of rivers of lava

cements dissolved

music is always listening even when inside


nemo potest hoc facere?

What Kind Of Belt Does Tom Delonge Wear

feather from the sky



The slips down from the sky as crows shamans

reflect a sun that burns the sunset
spiral
their steps as drunk as dancers
until the last dawn

The feather from the sky slips
a stone touches the sand impregnated
design stolen from God shines
of life and death dance continues


winter ball as a doornail

frost melts the heart
and as a ghost jumps and salutes
a feather from the sky slips

Brent Corrigan Kostenlos Vid

ViaggiDimenteEdiMenta_V

What about Berlin?

pitch dark soon.
Bicycles, many.
Police, little.
controllers on the subway, in civilian clothes.
lights on the sides of the avenues, sparse.
Neon lights and led the Turkish doner, and many dense.
people at the right distance.
People, weird, lined, dark with smiles mentioned. Sober or aggressive.
traffic and queues, non-existent.
History, prayers by rote, the mantra of removal. Do not remove.
Repetita iuvant . Case
big, hot, high.
MilchKaffe big, hot, high. Local
small. With the sounds sorted, the quality that you touch and the lights of the club made with the care of an embroidery.
Hair courts.
Woods. Everywhere. Indeed, forests.
With deer from the window of the bus.
And the crows' feet on two sides of the Spree.
Berlin went further. As it was already over in the twenties. Before the crisis, shone clear. Beyond modernity. Dynamic and special. It now runs, relaxed and tough, with frenamano bitter past, still a veil of black makeup on his face.



To all this, I look with respect and some hesitation.
Italy as a country felt ridiculous. The newspapers deride, the information is of high standard and uninhibited. I find myself dazed in front of a local news channel. I do not understand a damn, but the images are clear, the factual information processed (with pictures if we were not even in Italy would not dream of seeing because they would be censored (perhaps because to be verified? As our Minister Carfagna on the facts of Ruby (which is the belief that government should check the work of journalists (but who believes this to work for the FBI ?)))) is objective and clear.

And I felt embarrassed.


the Berlin so perhaps I preferred the children's strollers in Dresden.
Many in the youngest city in Germany.
trailed by as large as bicycles and carts. The cult of the bicycle, a Dresden modern, old, new, quiet, dark, impressive music. The houses east on the edge of the lawn. Seem out of card board. Explodes into the white light of the sun that filters through the thin glass. The mattresses on the floor. The heat from the wood planks on the floor.

Elba, the aorta. And
Neustadt, punk heart.

Why The Baby Removes Phlem

Andrea, the window

Andrea, from the window, listen to the water to wet the pavement.
slip through the courtyard of the old gneiss, forming rivulets insistent Pac Man imprisoned in the labyrinth of a tough river reaches the puddle on the right. And that opens the breathing drowning too. Echoes in the attic the barrel of water rinse the courtyard. Hunting the smell of yellow snow and enlivens the dull gray with frost. Stagnant water and freeze dog piss together the cocktail on Saturday. The newly opened window: the air blow stabs you in the face. But Andrea
hearer, does not see. There
the bottom of the canopy that obscures the view and forcing hypothesis.
is asked what time the hour of air, I think I look
remain lying on the bed from there I only see her shoulders sagging.
first by a quick look over my book. A hand to revive the raven hair. Try again from below my chin sinking into the neck of wool. I differ a little to reach the face, but I find it turned sideways, and the look is hidden.
I wonder what you ask, there still. A minute to waste a winter afternoon.

January
heavy they say it in so many. Long and dangerous for those who have a few projects. For Andrea
not seem to matter. January is the same as in July or October.
is always good for him anyway.
I am the controversy, the inconstant, the undecided. Menstruating and more. Never seraph and continuously attention. A lazy cat, made alert. From the need of strays wandering.

Andrea, I go out - to do this, raising his voice a little - taking your car to a mechanic, I do a tour around the slaughterhouse.
Andrea looks at me and smiles distorted, did not even want to get up from there.
Next time - mumbles bored. I watch the telly, Virginia, really - I shrug my shoulders and greet
puffing. Then go downstairs, coat, hat. The courtyard at its center, greets me desert. I do not turn

Andrea, but I feel you, from there I look within.

The need of strays wandering.

A locomotive whistle me back to reality after a fake sleep. I crawl right up into the kitchen with tears encrusted cheeks hot.
The pillow does the job of ironing a tube. Stretch fabrics and folds in the news, do not handle or remove stains textures. You keep the wrinkles and dark circles you have, he cleanses the brain but your face is shown.
Towards the hot water for tea in the cup from the kettle bubbling. The cigarette rears in balance silk between my fingers. I bend a little 'wrist to prevent the ash ends up in the cup tilted to accommodate the flow. Then I sit listening to the sounds of those who sleep in the houses opposite. Concrete and brick walls that seem eternal. Glued to mine, as the strips of wax cold.
No one at home, and I do not believe it.
I fear the wait, the return and tomorrow, from today onwards.
Out now is the night.
The headlights are sparse and suspect.
egg yolks into the pan black. Stick the masking tape as dell'autodidatta whitening.
I brought the car home after the review, required two years of honest drivers. Crossed my city in fervent expectation of a Sunday with the sun, gray days after wet snow and a learned.
incoming queues.
The outgoing queues.
queues on main roads. My heart beats that emerges from the wrists groin. Running in the wrong direction I stop a moment to catch his breath. A mechanical time-consuming waits, he promised me the car right before the weekend, young lady. The neck flushed for wool that stings and armpits sweat winter cold, I walked past the garage at six. Entering and leaving in a fluid and fast, as you would with a regular day hospital. Eighty
€, greetings and pleasantries.
I sat at the wheel and I as diaphragmatic breathing or yoga in the church choir. Lifted his shirt and pulled her sweater in contact with skin. To address the fake after heat stroke. I turned on the machine, the fan hot on the radio. Since a minute and wrapped her coat from behind the seat. Conveniently situated on the padded jacket, to a thickness between the back and the seat. Then finally I walked away from there, to entering the queues at times, silently lying in wait for me. Forty minutes limited to a crawl. I parked in a side-way, way out of the inner ring. I bought a music magazine to encourage the print media sector in a web-pervasive. Duty and volunteer personnel. Tribute to nothing to my teenage memories. Approaching the house I saw the ambulance and run down the mirror of a parked car. The electric gate carelessly opened, a door to close and the other stuck on one side. They slipped into the gap given in the courtyard I saw lumps of snow on the ground in poses unlikely. Andrea, from the window hath been launched when I was gone. Where I was. I was not there in the middle, to take the flight.

escape from the ring forever.

The book I read that tires me and keeps me awake: the war continues between the eyes and brain. I have nothing to do this weekend. And if this not feel like going out now. It's almost six, and the thought of diving nell'ansiogeno traffic after shopping on Saturday, immobilizes me. Humoral din of those who close shops and falls for dinner. Run mad, overtime aperitif groping in the dark looking for a parking lot. Cars, real estate was the rhythm of the ticking of taxometri invalidate the lights creating seamless code. Thistle and decumano, forget the rules.
I stretched on the bed and turn on the stereo. Beirut's songs are cotton temples. Feather and tickle Andrea what do you say? Andrea says nothing and zapping on TV, volume off a strip of medium gray color alternates with the strength of advertising violates the Nuvenia. Then I hear the bells. Andrea gasps and looks at me with empty eyes. I smile. We seem to have a bell tower to the balcony. Then rises. Open the window and launches. Not even the deaf hear the body in the snow. I hear the bells. The bells continue to sound and Beirut. For me. A cotton swab to dab the heart. The paper towels in the holes of public toilets, far from prying eyes, cry and urine warms my thighs.
They are not down there to take it on the fly. And even above to stop it in time.

The car right before the weekend. I have nothing to do this weekend.

I do not know where to run. Now. The night becomes meaningless. Saturday night it seems the night. The night of the great philosophers, can never be excluded. Or that of Antonioni, misunderstanding and discomfort.
sitting on this corner of the chair, smoking and expect to return my father. That you return my mother. Hospital, police station, morgue, from normal life.
speculate alternative escape routes, the best memories that stick to reprocess, and found again. Counterfactual conditional assumptions and methods which propose solutions.
not always best.
that there was or not.
The other way down do not ever know.
But perhaps it is a duty at least to understand themselves.
I look reflected on the table black, shiny and proud. Andrea

the window I think, looking himself in the glass.

Condoleezza Rice Address

The House - Listen to the 'Shadow of the Battle Maiden



Canto del Tauro ancient underground in dark cellars

my shadow but now listen carefully: you are free
left the road like a shot taken
runes beyond
abyss - but they are empty euphemisms
peace and if I did pacere me to myself.

Peace is during the battle - this I learned a moon

oblique look at me today while I tend to plow my shadow
hands across the street I wiped the sweat and the wounds will not follow

solemn processions
but under the counter will track the paths of the soul
... Paths runic

Vespa Import From Saigon

In your eyes without discounts
hear the roaring of the stormy sea billow
that calms tender sweetness with a smile in the wind.

scagliasti eagle with three wings of the bow with heart charm
to choose which of the heavens resound love

It 's the warmth of your sincerity that shines like a star
enlighten me in a thousand and a spark of companion

Fearless my years as a golden thread
tormented me and my pain I tend ferry
gardens in silver
back in me the spirit of a time sleeping
poisoned by a thorn
awakened by the sound of lance

Lead me to why I will follow
over the Cape of Good Hope,
beyond Cape Horn,
over the Maelstrom of Norway
over the flames of perdition
to the gates of Valhalla
YES, up to the doors of Valhalla
... and a little 'further

Fundamentals Of Futures And Options

Irem



a : begins bongo thunder
two: responds to the beat of the sound
three three: hit hard with hand
four: roars and goes away by the force

a : slams the door of the building
two: the eyes of the insane
three three: pulls the rope of the well
four: hear the noise of a collision

: bouncing the wheel falling
two: stuns the empty street
three three: falls throughout the walled
four: feathers of those who have sworn

Opening A Home Sleep Study Business

Now semi happy (almost happy hour) A history of precision

three and five and five and six.
I was playing with fire.
playing with fire.
Bored, the window of my first floor.
Carmen wagged its tail between the tables of my movies, with cutting boards for meats in the background.
wanted in the first floor you.
Sparano three hundred and saw his knuckles, in frantic motion.
The olives on toothpicks. An arrow in the chest of Patroclus.
The blood on the sandwich or the sauce on the armature.
Ben mass, nothing to say.
And I an idiot with nothing better to do.
lives on the first floor of a condominium sixties, gray and flaky enough to not feel safe.
My corner balcony let me dominate Street Via Volta and Golgi, as a pirate of the road. A camera for modern taste.
Blind.

I was frustrated and bored.

From the day I had not taken leave to do anything.
I had to return to cultivate a field or place in a post office to go to complain. They had stuff from a subsidiary of the medium ones.
Before I was not doing anything.
And now that I could not go back to doing what I did before. Nothing.
My mother had ceased to encourage me. She had gone to complain. Then he sighs. Now I avoided his eyes. Did not go out on balcony, to avoid having to come to terms with my image matte, indistinct from the background of the geraniums. I
hammock.
I sat at a table, swinging on a metal chair leg.
I do to fix the things that were happening to me disappointed. I
out.
I stopped. I
.

Cristiano, bring your slippers to Marci.
The bath of the community shone with Lysol.
Suvi on Friday morning and I would clean up, while the boys were committed to the recreation center. Then spending the weekend. We stuff the fridge with eggs and fresh vegetables and give us a drink at the club of sailors, Cologno south.
of sailors there were none in Cologne.
Perhaps only a few hackers by two soldiers.
remained Aunt Nora knew his business, as well dressed as a true sailor. Olivia's arm wrestling, a little 'overweight and surly that arise.
do not know how it happened, but we had taken a liking to. And one day it had begun to expect. To ask why we had not come on the Friday before. If the community everything went smooth. If we had contributions by the municipality. As I was, I was whiter than usual.
Much more white than usual.
If I ate.
Christian you are a ghost, he said, without filters.
Suvi laughed, with incredibly large incisors and separate.
And I moved her hair behind her ears, I stammered that I was a strong, almost like her.

Sitting at the table, she and I alone, facing each other, searches us waiting for the pretzels. Then under the influence of a rain of beer in half-empty stomach, chat distracted. Lost.
For a time I thought I love him, in defiance of the age difference. I was convinced for a quarter of an hour. Half closed her eyes as she stunned me with smiles and words nose.
Then I think again.
As in any love story nineties, wanted to demonstrate that sexually attractive. Was not to last more than a couple of months.
was the duemilaesei. And still looking for a story like that. Waiting to be invested with the same enthusiasm with which we await the green for pedestrians on footpaths. Like the wind in your face uphill. What a crack and leave.

We took a polaroid every drink order. Evidence that he had finished all her beer that damn media. And at noon in most, but the balance of six, including all stars winter martini white and light trousers.
Suvi laughed in my ear talking to non-lawyer and his almond eyes disappeared in the cheeks.

Over the weekend I came Rho.
And I was wrong. I spent Saturday night to listen to others talk about missed boring week.
You had to see it, Christian. This came into the classroom to a quarter of an hour after the end of the lesson and the teacher held in check for a time of slaughter. In the end he has not even finished his speech and left in a hurry, with his head that he was sweating and books picked up somewhat in his arms.
I nodded, alternative music but go, noo, Vala, I say. Then the final ref. Pen and voice shouted vibrating bass. I got up noisily, the chair trembled. The replace with your toe.
And I was going to make me a dose in the staff bathroom.
Thanks to the staff. Alias \u200b\u200bDiego Garr. Soon after me, in alphabetical order of V ^ B Majorana high school.

Monday in the community there was a lot of stuff to do.
The study had to be passed in order that maniacal social worker to protect children had come to check if new cards to send home. But first I had to dress Marci and Ida, that Mark, the role of educator, passed at nine o'clock, and took them to the center. Perennially late, I sipped the lamentations of the social worker. A pale girl and anonymous, at least half of me.
had to say about music as I prepared to put children on Suvi tight pigtails, white on me that I was thin, and frankly a little proposition figure to a child.
My extreme apathy, in cases like this was a quality.
He should have seen me my mother.

If you disconnect the brain was essentially happy.
Stare at the pool with Suvi, hardly see her swim with a smile stuck wrong made me feel good. Lesson in humility, useful to a stunted and underdeveloped ego like mine.
When there was me she was doing. He turned and shouted.
How many minutes have been under a Christian?
filled me, her.
Guess what? IV.
joy.
beginning in the community did not dare.
I had a sort of code of ethics.
I'm going to Mexico Cris, Mark told me in mid-March, while I was in Ida insulin. Three months.
I leave the whole shebang. Perhaps it is another objector to the service transport in the morning, let us know early in the Oratory of San Giulio.
sketched a smile.
hope is a girl, I joked.

By Mark el'obiettore absent and late to be assigned had a lot to do with myself. I annoys me. My non-existent will power soon slipped into a dark abyss. Rolled at the speed of a tetris level nine.

In late spring, with the sun in lines that broke the windows, I was doing in the bathroom, and Marci was pee.
Convinced that it was the insulin content to be equal.
I Ida and Marci.
equal.
Suvi not.
It was not long before he began to look at me with a frown adult full of reproach.
Suvi knew that I knew. But I managed to dematerialize even that bit of excitement to see her and I found in being with her. And what kept me attached to things and the present.

a Friday noon, in front of our pretzels, was restless and eager to return to the community. I was weak but still talking about the case.
Of Strokes.
She told me to go into the community. But not in his thoughtful added.
We got up in unison after a moment of ice.
No time for a drink.
the polaroid the glass was still full of heavy foam.

Our relationship suffered a turning violent.
And I asked the civil service cuts to health problems.
Two Monday after I had folded and at home.
Blind.
Two Monday after that, I was clean and at home. With the window wide open, the heavy air of autumn was running on the blankets.

But she worked the tables in front of my balcony, right in the middle of my viewfinder. Just as before I left.
I had only ever taken photos.
morbidly, perhaps.
fixing the lens without a lens.

I had plans. Neither wants to make.
But resented the enthusiasm I had felt Suvi helping to put the glasses in the pool.
Any movement inside me was indistinct. I did not recognize the difference between feelings.
Fear, need, desire.
Enthusiasm, excitement, love.
Noia.
marker of a whole, without shades.
Carmen But something was moving.
I was alive.
One day he noticed that the stool and stared at a face of greeting from behind the lens.
Mediated.
But alive.

Kates Playground In Oil

Walking on that floor could give the head of the trade to non-experts.

Mature knew how to move without risking tumbles ever.

He had learned to exploit the convex corners, the ceilings leak, the steps are difficult because oversized. He knew how to open the refrigerator without making it wobble. Silence bottles glass separating them with foam. He had seen it done in a TV series of lawyers, where a sheath of woman painting her toenails scarlet without making them fit together. Not sure the nails. Fingers. Branching from the heels on the table to form a hardened heart of flesh that he would support such a music box. A great symbol of political faction had agreed to an afternoon at the polls, ahead of ballot packs, full of spaces in which to write and sketches of no concern.

That house was made with the ass, had repeated Mirabel from the moment he saw the seraphic smile and then nodded stiffly to the tenant who was openly rubbing.



you, the tavern had dodged a duty, I much prefer the flat upstairs and across the landing to avoid a run of bad luck transmitted by osmosis from that niche.

The holes were between a mezzanine floor and another, were not real apartments.

And this would not be supporting the last minute.

The attack of the modem in the bathroom, the bathroom was a sign that perhaps there once was not there.

not a way to use the space.

question of predisposition.

Del populated place and not of those who lived.

Mature did not care so much discomfort and it was not witty enough to see its obvious flaws. He tried to live the best despite the slope to the south that ruined digestions. Defended himself as best he could: the plants grew tall like dragons in the east on the terrace overlooking the park to clear the ground from the smog of the ring. Meanwhile, whole families of colorless sgomitanti flowers in vases, claiming victims among the patrons of the West.

The walls sported a green light seemed reluctant to change to brown: knowledge and enlightenment, Mature was their only son. He feared that once out of there, no green that soothes and repairs, his science and his knowledge would have abandoned preventing remember basic information such as its number of foot or if he had already made the first flight or not. He believed that if he whitewashed home, hygiene would be complete. Realizing good spirits and bad odors from previous occupants, the cookies of firefox and all of its portals nickname. With the painting would be gone and you have forgotten your password the name on the intercom. And the anonymity no thanks, not for him who signed in block letters to avoid misunderstanding.

Mirabel considered the feng shui a whore.

preferred to work on a large desk and free. Matt black and a shelf because it gave her headaches by dint of reflected light and ultraviolet rays and sfondafinestre. Door facing north or pillow, it mattered little. She wanted the shutters were closed to avoid stifling heat in his sleep. And the fan is running, body height, the third notch, without tilting of horror movies.

Lambrate She lived alone in his choice of his sister who was playing for Barcelona ceasing to pay half rent. - The house is not yours Miri, you can choose to leave - had told her croaking from a public telephone handset English - But you can keep it, I'm sure. I would not have been if he had been - This eagerness to cheer instead sent her into a rage. He hung up jabbering faicomevuoi a very pissed off. And in response, had sent the Nokia which he had forgotten on the couch, directly in Spain without stating the delivery address did not even know that. So, just to make a bastard and give vent to someone without showing it.

Not that his sister was the perfect roommate. He was always out, and was returned to sleep in a bed and not breaking your back to the home of friends. Fell late in the evening, often accompanied by patrons of the last hour. It came out early, to get to the Polytechnic where she followed a course of gallinaceous fashion. Mirabel had not judged and much less to say on the allocation of his free time.

He also took advantage of some companion who, in the morning, he had entertained for longer than expected. A couple of boys found Mirabel still at home instead of Diana, they had not pulled back the proposal for a quickie with a lawyer working with a few more years of experience, which in fact she was.

Mature disapproved of sex with no atmosphere. This was not improvisation that bothered him was the unpreparedness of the participants. - What makes you think I'm not ready? - She thundered before a cheeseburger without onions. Mature raised his hands in surrender. He would wanted to infer anything about it, was simply inadequate to propose to someone without noticing that the layout of the house, the colors of the walls, the amount of light filtering through the window of a woman's biological clock is not controllable variables were unprepared and could adversely affect the result. He would not therefore surprised if Mirabel had complained of poor performance of the actors, as the latent energy would have been badly used - might not be my case Mature, you can put your mind at rest - he had reassured her, once subsided the initial anger. Then, with the stern eye on the time the wall, he asked the cashier to split the bill for two.

Later that evening, before going to sleep, Mature watered all the plants on the east by taking advantage of the moon slipping behind the advertising hoardings stopped the flood spitting balcony. Slow the roar of the water in vases, Mirabel rose from the couch and smoked my last cigarette in his company, facing the balcony without a word, looking like a god Mature Cartesian. He, unaware of being controlled, trafficked in clumsy shoes with the barrel of water. That was one of those times when Mirabel felt less alone and tried to fully enjoy every shot, before falling back on the couch and smoke the last cigarette for good, this alone Once, before a delayed episode of Scrubs.

One morning in August, Mirabel received a phone call.

was a call on skype, this was certainly Mature. The sound was recognizable by the mechanical nature of the trill that ear looked like a chainsaw noise. Unsure what to do, he shook the hall who did not share. What so appropriately called the landing were two steps up and two steps under his door. Great nice fantasy, no doubt about it. Mature went up and put his ear to the door of Mirabel. She did not speak, like a nod or a casual listen. Then the clack of the bolt coincided with the hypothetical coupling a handset that does not exist.

Mature if he saw a stone's throw from the muzzle. Mirabel looked like a wax dummy. - If I can be of help - he muttered two steps below the landing. - I only have a few errands to run, but I can put off - he added, went the embarrassment of both. Mirabel perpetuated a stillness that just suits her. Someone rang the doorbell. The two startled. - I think they are waiting for me, with permission Mature - and slipped down the stairs, forgetting the open door and, judging by the agreed Mature frenetic pace of the beeps began to drill the head, coffee in the microwave on.

After the fact of the call, Mirabel did not show up for weeks. Mature began to suspect a leak to a voluntary tax haven. But after I hacked the password of the first and second level of his bank account, he had put my heart in peace, for eight thousand euro of hard-earned savings were not worth even a sortie in the principality of Monaco. For its part, felt the absence of Mirabel as a nuisance. A pebble in the shoe heel and insisted that undermined the principle of plenitude.

The heat did not help bleached. Mature trudged to the bus stop every morning munching his toast reluctantly. Ate less since the summer of the great career he had found, white and mushy in front of a porn in costume, of the lowest bill. And now that Mirabel had cut the rope, was horrified by incompleteness. His and its surrounding physical and social. She began by filling every empty corner of the apartment with a stylish plant and high enough so that the light filtering through the window the whole crown could tap to listening to the radio and listen in the store had finally decided to call on the air and take part in a radio contest . Groped on the pretext of luck with the secret order to carve out the reputation required to launch an SOS alert to the disappearance of her neighbor.

All this mania for filling holes seemed to work one morning because Mirabel seemed to return to his place with heels on the mat and waterproof poncho for sudden showers resting on the umbrella.

They met on faux landing as she prepares to bring phard steeped in local dustbins a cactus that he had drunk too much.

- It's a little 'see - Mirabel showed him the inside of the plant now leaning to one side. Lifting it slightly, the two saw the greenish, viscous substance leak and agreed that it was good to throw in the trash. They said goodbye with a smile and shoot everyone decided their own direction. She went to great career since he ran up on the roof as the Sophia Loren of the past. It was said that the same urgency that had driven down Mirabel had compelled him to rise. Two floors each, to keep longitudinal entropy. The slalom between the clothes hanging replaced by a web of dishes. And no love scene, a backdrop to his shortness of breath on exertion.

From Milan there seemed to unravel.

Mirabel The next morning he decided to make a jump from his neighbor at the store. But yes, why not. He had never walked into that little shop on the left by anonymous flattened a garage for repair of scooters. With difficulty he reached the entry, as it was blocked by parked motorcycles at an angle. Mature bouquet of artichokes packaged with a raffia orange. Mirabel called him chirping, waving his arm over his head, with bracelets of iron, which climbed right up to the elbows. - Mature what do you say? - Mature did not understand what he meant. Then he looked at her best. The blue shirt was hiding a baby bump and spinning hard. And the navel point as a magnum. Wiped his wet hands and walked toward her with his hands up. - I'm almost halfway there. Would you like to dine with me tonight? -

It was thrown in a mess. Invite to dinner without knowing mature cook two fried eggs. Mirabel ran the electronic pages of his notebook as if it were a telephone directory. Too long. Too difficult. Too heavy. Too many ingredients. She had been sitting all day, after the detour from Mature back from the hospital.

He lit the first cigarette of the day was six. It was just one of those. That bring inspiration and go in a flash. Tuna and lemon pasta. And a dessert of warm yogurt and blueberries. Or cold. All this would have kept busy for half an hour to say so.

Mature timely rang the doorbell at eight of the landing.

But waiting out there for about ten minutes. It was all sipped like a virgin in the shower from the falsetto of the real Madonna. She opened the door dressed in black. He hid behind the bush that seemed to trumpet amaryllis pink.

He told the radio and the principle of plenitude. She's a disease that ran faster than his child. It seemed doomed from Achilles to remain in the starting blocks. - In early summer they gave me six months, Mature. He has four more in front of him. - Mature wondered who had decided. That would serve as notice that to be born to die. Mirabel suggested the doctor or his fate. Mature was puzzled and offered to make love. Mirabel held it great idea. The fatigue of care had recently invested in the limbs since the bones, but until proven otherwise, the leukemia was not contagious. It needed a healthy pleasure.

Mature stroked with the hands acres of tuna and amaryllis. Then he kissed his teeth purple blueberry and embarrassment. With the breeze in September that squeaked on the glass is slumped on the floor of wood and nails, old light but warm interior.

Mirabel awoke the next morning at dawn. He smoked reflected on the mirror between the sink and drainer. Close the window spying Lambrate wake like a hippopotamus that slowly gaining the surface. Mature was not asked to Who was Achilles, or if there was something to do for her. He had not asked if the chemotherapy was helping, if he was going to work. Or explain what had leukemia. His reaction and its calculation is not merely the storm had displaced and was now a po'irrigidita. Mature joined her soon after. He asked her if she wanted the white tea. Mirabel nodded absently rubbing his belly. Then he sat down, the legs were shaking. Mature down to the mezzanine and went in a flash.

As the water bubbling in the kettle, reached at the table laid for two. Filters tea leaves and filled the cups. He took a sip just to burn your tongue. - I think I understand Mirabel - Mirabel, with wrinkles and white light of morning he looked forward to a continuum. - If you die does not choose anyone. If you are born, someone chooses for you. And that someone has the right to have a notice - Mature seemed satisfied, and both continued to drink from their steaming cups.

Mature Then came down the stairs, took sandwiches and jacket and ran to the bus stop.

With six months notice, despite being drenched in pain, he felt reborn

Cryptic Uk Places Names Quiz

Only donuts

Giusy only eat donuts, candy and crispy honey cakes. In his

advancing warm milk bottles and rubber from the hole could suck incredible lumps of biscuits and cereals. He loved the bottom of the cups as a snack with mushy crumbs stuck together sugar and plenty of lemon juice.
was kind of chubby and all those cookies softened the cheeks, elbows and bones fingertips.

Quell'uggioso Monday afternoon, at the birthday party for Xue, Giuseppe arrived for the four, after his swimming lessons everyday, like a hungry snake.
Da Xue Giusy but did not know hardly anyone and just entered the game room, began to die of embarrassment among those comrades brand new.
The stomach was closed and had refused any trick or pretzel that did not have a form already known and already eaten. Only clouds of ice dragon and inflamed. All around flags and ideograms. And disco music that seemed to the tune of Guitar Hero. So, while playing a dance in a circle, he felt his stomach grumbling in volume suspicion.




umpteenth mumbling Xue's mother approached her, leaning on his knees and looked straight into his eyes round.
- What do you say to a good Berci tea on the balcony? - Asked the nice lady.
Giusy stared at his hair perfect.
His hair was so smooth as to seem wrapping paper.
not know what to say, he wanted to get away from there as soon as possible.
The beautiful lady took her weight system on a plump chair just outside on the balcony on the twelfth floor. Giuseppe Milano, and saw all seemed to be at the cinema. In the blink of an eye the kinesin came back: two cups in his hands and a tiny spoon resting on the plate.
- Welcome my dear, here's a tea as promised - and without saying anything began to suck noisily clear that water from the silver spoon. Giusy taken to do the same as a mirror. Dip the spoon in the cup boiling water until the brew is not above it. Then she sucks his tea from the spoon by a deafening noise do not understand there was more than music in the lounge. No one spoke until Giusy could no longer restrain himself and burst out laughing enjoyed tea sprayed from above the forehead.
- What noise do - he said, trying to summarize the beginning of serious air.
- Yet you, my dear - said the lady politely. - China is used to sip tea from the spoon, without worrying about the annoying noises. It seems that the only way you can fully enjoy it. And then, Giusy, chat and nibbling the leaves that remain on the bottom of the cup. See there, an entire lawn?
Giusy eye stuck to the cup and saw an expanse of greenish leaves: some slow and sinuous waving in the water. Other properties seemed, with the sole purpose of softening the fall of lumps of sugar.

The clink of a spoon made her raise her face fell suddenly.
before her an old man with a large blue turban sat back. Everything seemed to echo around a festive music without a source. Only the buzzing of flies differed slightly.
The air was stifling and thought it well to get Giusy shade. The man staring at the ground saw something move away and the design of the shadows change of form.
He pulled two fingers from the dress and grabbed a silver teapot with the wizard's cap that reflected the look of dazed Giusy. Then he began to put the liquid in a transparent cup. Slowly raised his arm and bony as the glass is filled, the teapot shoot up dropping a burst mileage all in the glass. Not a drop seemed out of place, not a sketch on the tray important.
Miss can I offer you some tea? - Asked without looking away from the waterfall improvised. Giusy stunned did not understand demand. He seemed impatient and Giuseppe nodded his head. He grabbed his glass and filled with boiling water.
He drank in small sips.
cheeks of fire.
hellishly hot.
That mint tea gave to the brain.
looked like a candy dissolved in water.

Then all of a sudden the heat passed, he stopped in front of his salty sweat.

- The heat inside my dear, has reached the hot outside - the old man said calmly - See down there at the bottom of your glass? All of a group of sugar and mint - And he took to drink his tea again.
Giusy look again attacked by the glass. This time from below, lifting it up. He kept the leftover grains and sugar seemed to have a cookie flattened pancake.

And here came a tremendous roar. Giusy jumped on the couch of velvet. The glass in the windows seemed to crumble, unless the nth tone resist.
An old woman dressed in pink gathered to pay her dark, steaming tea, a cup-shaped benches and gilded edges.
Giusy settled it squarely on the pillow. The occasion seemed gallant. We redid the tail of his shirt and buttoned cuffs. Make sure the nails were not blackened and closed his mouth in the shape of a circle.
- Honey, you want milk or water do you prefer? - Giuseppe pointed to the milk safe and waiting to be served again. Opaque milk washed away the transparency of its beverage that became cloudy and mysterious.
- Good choice girl, milk cleans the bottom of the cup. It lets you clear as a bare ass. Let's get together here and let them out there will trigger the downpour -
The old woman smiled and began to look out into the garden.

Ring the intercom.
E 'Giuseppe's mother, but she did not feel like coming.
fell asleep exhausted, the balcony gray. When Xue
shakes her to tell her that it is time to return to his home, Giusy not remember anything, but you feel rested and light. Has not touched even a cookie this time.
Mom makes the compliments and promises an ice cream after dinner.
- Mama I drank so much tea. Drink it all. E 'to chat.
Mother smiles - No cookies? - Asks the suspect.
- no cookies - confirmed Giusy upright.
- Too much noise in my teeth - adds twisting his mouth.
Mom pulls her towards him and jumps Giusy.
Then her eyes fall upon a twinkle, but his mother is in a hurry, are the seven steps.
The steps of the swallows meters.

And a silver spoon tinkling.
Only among the quick feet of Milan comes home.

All over the world drinks tea
to forget the din of the world
[Zhao Guan]