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Cavoli amari.

I knew it would happen sooner or later.
not precisely when, but I was waiting.
I knew that my morbid sensitivity would one day explode.
say that the period is not so well chosen, but some things can not be programmed.
Let's say you ask questions and try to give answers.
of why now, why you, because before and now you do not.
Why can not you see things as others see it.

Then I think back to when they had the funeral to the ants that your sister had walked, with a lot of crying and thinking with their small families.
thought of the stray dogs in Sicily, under the sun that you can not nemmeno avvicinare perchè nessuno gli ha mai insegnato l'affetto.
Ripensi ai pesci che nuotano liberi e felici e improvvisamente vengono catturati da ami taglienti o reti insidiose.
Pensi a quando muore la mamma o il papà cervo e i cuccioli rimangono orfani.
Agli agnelli che non diventeranno mai grandi.
Al maiale trascinato al macello. E così la mucca.
Al cavallo che punta gli zoccoli perché sa, in cuor suo, che é finita.
O alle galline, stipate in gabbie soffocanti, alle quali nel migliore dei casi viene tirato il collo.
Pensi che detesti i circhi, gli acquari, le gabbie, gli zoo.
Pensi che non vedi l'ora di avere una casa in campagna per lasciare correre Gattino e Pritt sui prati.
Think, think, think.
And your stomach squeezes.

Now I am not asking much.
I only ask that I do not break the Maronites.
That there is respect, perhaps they do not share, but respect it. That is a choice
that does not hurt anyone.
my choice.
And that everyone is made in its own way.
And this is my way.

Time Between Tb Tests

La ballerina del carillon.

If I could choose a career, I would have chosen that of the classical dancer.
I've always loved dancing.
But like listening to music and improvise a little wistful ballet classical dance in my bedroom.
The door closed and all transport of the music I came across the chest and stomach up to his head.
My room was a rectangle, and then lent itself well to small strokes and ballet.
closed my eyes and pretended to be a good dancer, full of passion and technique.
imagined to wear the beautiful pink shoes worn with a little bit of plaster and satin ribbons introrno narrow ankles. I imagined my pink tights that I wrapped my legs and slipped under the tutu. And then the bun. I thought so high, very high. Imagine also the nose to the French.
Sometimes I used the white drawer knobs with gold bars as resting the foot between the TV and VCR.
I did it for many years. I used the tapes recorded by my sister, who had those weepy compilation titles such as "love forever" or "field-mouse and mouse" with songs recorded from radio or severed.
I also did rhythmic gymnastics, and the rate of fine years with the great.
But this really.
days Then one day I ceased to be high.
I stopped wearing pink tights. And my hair is left loose. And my blood
South has shaped my body.
But I, I have not stopped dreaming of my career as a classical dancer.

Now while trying to cultivate my passion for writing, Kitten has bitten the wire of the charger PC, making him do the sparks, and unplugging the connection that is blown into the house just takes the side of bed I Azzu confined in a room playing video games and then Pritt began to lick the fool next to me and not so I wanted to write.
And this thing that I can not write when I want with my time, is making me take tablets all the emotions which then ends up crying with shit. And my biggest fear is no longer being able to write that is the only thing that I enjoy doing.

So I decided that tomorrow I go to find the boxes with the music box that I had given her mother's friend and that even if the dancer has lost and maybe a tutu arm, I've kept, because I was sure that sooner or later would come the time to listen.

Listening and start dreaming.

Bulma And Vegeta's Relationship

Residues of a Thursday night

L'ho visto ieri sera a casa di un'amica e me ne sono innamorata, si tratta del Bestiario universale del professor Revillod , almanacco illustrato della fauna mondiale . Dalla versione cartacea si possono generare addirittura 4096 animali fantastici! E' stupendo!
Le immagini sono di Javier Sàez Castàn, i testi di Miguel Murugarren, la musica del video è di Johann Sebastian Bach (Cello Suite No.1 Prelude).

Un caro saluto a tutti...

Tetazas De Milena Velba

Heresies ... Like a pig in

Quando ero piccolo I went to catechism classes to make their first communion. I also remember that I had confirmed to tap gifts with both hands, eating and stuffing myself with rustic and sweets after an "event". But this is not the most satanic of my brief and fleeting encounter with the advocates of collective hallucination.

As I said during my brief stay and weekly in the parish, I happened to hear cheerful creation legends of the world by this beard to look like this about the dear Leo Tolstoy in the mid-year . These atrocious bales on the creation of the world came into violent conflict with what I had been told about the Big Bang, evolution and what that I lived at the time: the dinosaurs.

I do not lose heart. My catechism teacher and my classmates had to know to be wrong, someone had to tell him that their bearded ladies had created the earth, at most, but not living things. Everything went by my beloved and giant reptiles all ended (or continued) extinct in my friends.

The small and rotund Michael went to the next lesson ready to fight back with a lot of books and pamphlets on bales of impostors, but despite his insistence he was invited to get rid of the cards from a heretic, and to follow the "lesson" with a bearded little prayer to the Lord. Even the old Darwin could resist the fury of those fanatics.

Dovetti accettare temporaneamente quella versione fino alla fine del catechismo. E poi risentirmi le stesse cazzate, ma di calibro ben più grande, durante il catechismo della Cresima... Avevano vinto, ma fortunatamente per poco.
Amen.

Ridgeline Licence Bracket

Il treno dei desideri.

When I was little I liked to travel by train.
at night.
to go to Sicily did travel by train. Berth. O sleeper.
I never understood the difference: I only know that one had the sheets of cloth, the other had the sheets of paper and train reeked of a smell of iron mixed with garbage summer.
I just care about the quality of bedding.
Why I liked too much sleep on the train at night.

usually start in the late afternoon.
The cases could not be counted.
I waited anxiously forward to dinner because I knew that soon after we were all going to sleep.
My mother was preparing the cooler box containing a million sandwiches with the schnitzel. Then there were the cheese Galbani. And a lot of bottles of ice water. Why saying "You never know"
I was happy even though we were all tight bags with him. Although the compartment was moving around and you could not stand to lose balance. Although there was the smell of garbage mixed with iron summer.
We did a lot of crumbs with those sandwiches. I most of all. Not to show her pushing with your foot under the seat.
had finished eating I began to say "We pull down the beds? Pull down the beds?"
And my mother was always agitated that she stirred when we traveled.
I always wanted to stay on top.
So I sat in my narrow bed with the sheets of paper or cloth.
Mom did the crossword, maybe my sister listened to music with the walk man, Dad and I immediately fell asleep, I thought. Before
cover aspects of the chill on the train because, after a while you are without blankets feel the chill. For me, the thrill was the best moment. Every so often, even now, when I'm in bed waiting for the chill before covering them and so I remember the train and I'm happy.
I liked sleeping in the train because I felt secure from the rocking of the wagon on the rails and so small that compartment.
During those nights my thoughts were more sad, sweetly sad, sad: Although I was only 10 years I was sad. Then
expected when the train stopped at stations. I turned on the contrary, brushing aside the curtain and looked out the window at very late hours, people waiting on the platform.
And I imagine their stories.
Sometimes I look under the bed and saw the face of mother slept intermittently illuminated by lamplight or moonlight. Or watching over my sister's arm dangling. And I felt the breath strong father who mingled with the rhythmic sound of the train.
I often sleep before you close your eyes and bow with a few moments.
I'd like to reopen a time and see me on the train at night.
To hear the sound of the tracks, to see people waiting on the dock, the smell of garbage mixed with iron summer. And make the sad thoughts of a girl of 10 years.

When you say, happiness in small things ...