water, too.
The first warm themselves.
Revolutions and demolitions.
Many goodbyes.
The weight of decisions.
The first warm themselves.
Revolutions and demolitions.
Many goodbyes.
The weight of decisions.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Online Pregnancy Simulat*
Happy birthday Italy
art / r / evolution second step, the National Museum of Gdansk from 26 February to 23 April 2011.
Happy birthday Italy: 135 x 135 cm porcelain vein and led by Nicola Boccini
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Jib Jab Member Accounts
Another goodbye
When, just over a year ago, I and M. we moved here in the countryside, we passed an easy time. We were semi-camp, with no heating in the kitchen, with the admission that he was wasting water from top and bottom every time it rained. In addition, the neighbor above us created a lot of problems and brambles that covered the ground are soon revealed a surface covered with scrap metal.
The inhabitants of the tiny village where we came to live, however, with their manners a bit 'rough they really did feel the warmth that the city had never received.
Among them was the double of my father, Renzo, who lived just around the corner and that
has now been filed and there has shaken hands giving us welcome, saying that she address him.
He had a daughter, little more than my age, but strangely there was talk better with the "old", Renzo and his wife Silvana. Together we have taken, I and M, and from the beginning we realized that we have someone to count on. In spring
Renzo gave me the wonderful flowers cultivated by him, not all, though, otherwise the wife angry.
gave me valuable advice on some work to do and told me what was there before us, he was a child, in front of our house. In autumn
has promised that this spring would give us a hand to cut the grass.
Two months ago we stopped in the streets, telling us that they had found a spot in one lung. Then, we have not seen him since.
cancer has exploded like a bomb and has spread to the bone with the speed of light.
Renzo died tonight.
Sure, you say, for the evil they had suffered very little, but I can not stop thinking about that at his age, 68 years, he could still enjoy life a lot '. See their grandchildren grow up, for example, have a chat to the streets every day and give a kiss to his wife every night before bed.
Maybe even take them every now and then a bunch of flowers that lack any stem that got close to that age of his daughter.
The inhabitants of the tiny village where we came to live, however, with their manners a bit 'rough they really did feel the warmth that the city had never received.
Among them was the double of my father, Renzo, who lived just around the corner and that
has now been filed and there has shaken hands giving us welcome, saying that she address him.
He had a daughter, little more than my age, but strangely there was talk better with the "old", Renzo and his wife Silvana. Together we have taken, I and M, and from the beginning we realized that we have someone to count on. In spring
Renzo gave me the wonderful flowers cultivated by him, not all, though, otherwise the wife angry.
gave me valuable advice on some work to do and told me what was there before us, he was a child, in front of our house. In autumn
has promised that this spring would give us a hand to cut the grass.
Two months ago we stopped in the streets, telling us that they had found a spot in one lung. Then, we have not seen him since.
cancer has exploded like a bomb and has spread to the bone with the speed of light.
Renzo died tonight.
Sure, you say, for the evil they had suffered very little, but I can not stop thinking about that at his age, 68 years, he could still enjoy life a lot '. See their grandchildren grow up, for example, have a chat to the streets every day and give a kiss to his wife every night before bed.
Maybe even take them every now and then a bunch of flowers that lack any stem that got close to that age of his daughter.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
How To Make A Vergina
Revelations and reflections of things-oni
Last night, at a pre-concert dinner with two other musicians and friends, M. recently announced that for the first time he happened to think about how it would be with a twenty. What is absolutely normal for charity. Indeed, it is strange that if asked just now. A friend ultraquarantenne and womanizer who was at the table with us said that this is just the beginning stages and it will cross, including one in which you may be wondering how a sixteen year old.
Now, Assuming that lately this thing is very much in vogue thanks to the head of the government, I hope at least that old M. not give the age (you always see if you take it).
Beyond this, such is life: the men are called by growing more and more fresh meat and women - at least myself - while not forgetting the fresh meat (we were not even in the butcher), have become intrigued by mature men, more firm, thick and experience.
Maybe it's because I found the young man who think so. Until now I had never raised the problem of my old age and the comparison with women her age, but because I do not look so old and he seems so young, but I realize that being well-drawn, without a firm and sore kidneys no longer part of my being.
Perhaps he never did, now that I think.
If I think of my childhood, I remember my father saying that the forty year old woman is good in thirty years. There, he said, is the flower of femininity because it is aware and fully.
be, but just slightly beyond them, the thirty years, you begin to look in the mirror in the morning and see the lines - commonly known as wrinkles - in their eyes, and behold you so often in the mirror that reflects you as a whole. The problem is not the feeling of falling, because I do not feel it yet, but continue to have the head first, and note that the mirror returns every year, a face is always different, less adherent to what the brain expects.
The key, said Esmeralda, an artist known only yesterday evening, remain attached to their essence. So even if the mirror does not give us satisfaction, its own light shine, we will be beautiful even for old people.
I'll try, I promise. I'm attached to my essence as a mussel to the rock.
So why wake up a week I always swollen eyes?
Now, Assuming that lately this thing is very much in vogue thanks to the head of the government, I hope at least that old M. not give the age (you always see if you take it).
Beyond this, such is life: the men are called by growing more and more fresh meat and women - at least myself - while not forgetting the fresh meat (we were not even in the butcher), have become intrigued by mature men, more firm, thick and experience.
Maybe it's because I found the young man who think so. Until now I had never raised the problem of my old age and the comparison with women her age, but because I do not look so old and he seems so young, but I realize that being well-drawn, without a firm and sore kidneys no longer part of my being.
Perhaps he never did, now that I think.
If I think of my childhood, I remember my father saying that the forty year old woman is good in thirty years. There, he said, is the flower of femininity because it is aware and fully.
be, but just slightly beyond them, the thirty years, you begin to look in the mirror in the morning and see the lines - commonly known as wrinkles - in their eyes, and behold you so often in the mirror that reflects you as a whole. The problem is not the feeling of falling, because I do not feel it yet, but continue to have the head first, and note that the mirror returns every year, a face is always different, less adherent to what the brain expects.
The key, said Esmeralda, an artist known only yesterday evening, remain attached to their essence. So even if the mirror does not give us satisfaction, its own light shine, we will be beautiful even for old people.
I'll try, I promise. I'm attached to my essence as a mussel to the rock.
So why wake up a week I always swollen eyes?
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