Hyde Park Kroger Singles Night

grazie!

Thanks for the suggestions. I erased and rewritten, I complained and now everything is fine.

remind the traditional survey Dreams & Needs on summer reading.

Genital Acne Image On Men

help!

recent comments on my blog are back in November! Can somebody tell me what email address I can direct my message to blogger? The guide I have not found any indication. Thanks!

Salieri Clips To Watch

scappare, bisogna scappare...





in the night I read a small book I was shaken like a great book and continues to trouble me and com-move. This is The flight of Tolstoy Alberto Cavallari, published by Skira. Five skinny

chapters divided by a group of black and white photos and preceded by a map of the places, even in black and white.

The book is apparently a record-the record of four days in which Tolstoy is on the run from his home in Yasnaya Polyana and his wife Sofia, but it is also the story of a relationship and a reflection on the claim of self.

In the night between 27 and 28 October 1910 Sofia Tolstoy realizes that spurs us, like a thousand other times in his papers, including his diaries and his sketchbooks. It is only a acts of war that pits wearing Sofia and Lev after 48 years of a marriage gone through the passion, hatred, jealousy, desire for possession and annihilation. Lev is 82 years old, Sofia 66 and two poison each other's lives. Sofia is even more ruthless the poisoner is also the most determined to maintain their close bond. But that night Lev turns. It is said that the measure is full, and perhaps ask: If not now, when? So, secretly, in the middle of the night, he began his flight that will end after four days in the small station of Astapovo, where he died Nov. 7. His last words are: Escape, you must escape . The book

is a small jewel, but the effect it has had on me goes beyond its literary value. It has to do with me, because it touches on topics that stir me and move within me forever. Shook the child and the adolescent, the girl and the woman and never broke up or place: travel, escape, freedom, full self-possession, due to its interior space, the right to salvation and termination of the bonds; also selfishness and solitude as the only secure homeland.

why I read the book in a state increasingly anxious, feeling hounded by the pursuers, like my beloved Tolstoy while studying routes, tricks, strategies and diversions in order to hide the wife and the authorities of the country involved in the research of the writer, icon and myth of an entire people.

The old man who runs away, dreaming of the distance and spaces, which goes on trains like on a nervous horse, watching the immense landscapes ice sliding into the night, savoring the cool dawn air, and it rests and is neglected and still gets sick and goes on until the dying: everyone read in its own way this sudden flight. For some it will be a final attempt to escape to death, for others a race determined and convinced to death, others only one episode of a long marriage battle ended badly for the representation or recklessness that the artist gives final the parable of human life. Read each of the metaphor as they wish. But Tolstoy

you breathless and you look back, that suddenly changes its direction of travel, which clears behind traces of its passage and stops only when it is already numb with cold and fever and fatigue for me ' embodiment of a need to break free, I've never met but who until the last day of my life I will shake inside. I trembled for Tolstoy on the run, I have trepidation, fear and hope I had for him and with him I looked behind. When he cried, I cried. But I do not think no, this confused my aspiration to climb over my life and its structure is only mine. To this I recommend the book because, though not with my own and probably pathological vehemence, perhaps everyone can recognize in the revolt of Tolstoy's own impulse to revolt and to recognize that there is a need for freedom to the bottom of each of us can arise and make us act even at the end of our lives that need to mature and can be made also to 82 years.

Everyone can perhaps recognize that Tolstoy escape, you escape .

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ripescando

Standard Time (or "The Wind")

Under the blue sky with little white clouds hung here and there She breathes the fragrance of its terrace. Meanwhile, from rope to the closing thoughts of fluctuating consciousness that the hour has been given. Last night, legislators from the screen voice says: put the clocks back an hour, and she has performed. It is no pleasure in the festivities: a few days the new rate will become routine and the time will come back to huddle over her. The bite still affect his marks in the flesh of his life. But today there really is an hour longer. She delivered to the memory disorder. The first shadow to appear is as always to He . A gull City divides the sky in two with a cry. Above is the increasing scarcity of hopes and illusions of the whispers, the word future as syncopated advertising message. She watches them carefully. Below is his body lying on the couch in the sun and sea green plant from supine she looks at the air pot from which raindrops fall the last flowering of petunias. The last flowering, he thinks. The right eyelid starts to beat faster reporting tremors in the encounter with the 'sudden understanding of a given since there sfuggitole. This time in more time taken from the canon, almost miraculously escaped the daily programming, never chosen, rather than suffered, led her to answer the question about his life he had never time to ask. So she climbs the ledge and launches into space without a blue breath.

him wandering restlessly in the study solemn. The returned an hour but does not know how to remove it from the sterile vacuum of authority which it feels rushed. Do not know where they come from memories. He is trying to restore order in the space provided, mostly at least, the thoughts that disturbed it. But these uncontrollable rush back in time, when he still had a choice between the ambition of the rise and the effort to balance the emotions. Affections? Love. For the first time calls him, as he had not never called. This is the trick I came up with: Do not ever give him the name "love." It was so easy to cut without a second thought and also pigeonhole you the ranks of the minor. But that choice, that choice is now biting at this time that the advances. So he opens with an acceleration rate that scares him the old agenda-third drawer on the right of the pretty successful lawyer's desk. He escapes with two letters that reads a resurgence of feelings in expansion, which invade the time and the soul and the outstretched limbs of the body. This hour is more disordered in his life, so far as a smooth blanket tight on the bed, or is it to him reappear as a promising dawn? Rejected the application unnecessarily analytical, He grabs the phone and dials that number maybe old but not yet too old. On the other hand even a breath .

Fart Farting Brasilian

Keith Jarret Koln Concert

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2004 Honda Pilot Front License Plate Diagram

"pare che nun esistino dolori..."

" Going out with you is like taking from house the radio, "said the spouse mornings ago. 'In fact, I sing. yeah. I climb into the car next to the spouse and singing. He's used to, says that when I get in the car is taken by" humming. "Canto all. To my mind are the most unlikely songs, old tunes that I felt sing from my grandmother, As it was raining, and carry the mantle, the notary fo ... pieces of work that was my grandfather singing, pyre that the horrendous fire ... classics and recent top ten hits of the sixties and the bon bon of Jaques Brel, the soundtrack of Oklahoma Oh What A Beautiful Morning and mountain songs, nonsense and Verdi's Requiem, voix Mozart and S e are the Watussi .. . I sing, even in these days singing. I love being scarrozza car-go without having to deal with the traffic, traffic lights, gear-and sing. So much for the spouse opens eyes to the vastness and the promiscuity of my repertoire and even intone aloud Woman, everything is done for you ... his poise is not flustered. Every now and then, when she sings bawdy ditties, benevolent, merely shook his head. I sing.

Singing is something strange, unexplainable, deep within me. A need? A disease? An escape? A challenge? I do not know, but singing. I look semi-desert along the Tiber river and the old song goes against Barcarolo Er ... But also, and has nothing to do types-types with the calypso-tips ... So I have no class or culture, are just an animal that relies on singing the song as part of his body, the less noble, the most immediate, some without reflection che non sceglie ma è scelta dallo spunto imperscrutabile di un momento, che affiora dal tempo, dallo spazio, da una vita di canzoni e canzonette e musica e non musica e ricordi e passato e lontananze.

Ogni tanto poi mi taccio. Ammutolisco. Mi piace anche essere scarrozzata e stare zitta. Guardare fuori del finestrino e farmi assorbire da questa città così amata e così deludente. Così grande e così piccola e provinciale; così feroce e volgare e sporca e confusionaria; dalla sua gente indifferente e appassionata, sciatta, immemore, inconsapevole, egoista, sprezzante, presuntuosa, ignorante...la mia gente, che mi tradisce ogni giorno e che nel mio cuore ogni giorno tradisco.

E mi commuovo per la bellezza and residual ancient history of this cemetery, I feel like crying for its pine trees, for its stones, sudden for the palm trees, the roofs burned by the sun. I love him, love him too much, I love her and I would not love her, love her and hate, conceited, obscene, with its baroque erotic, the unforgettable beauty of its arches and its columns, the stones of its crumbling pavement traitor, the heat of the south, the Mediterranean light, the myriad signs of power, the jargon which circulates from mouth to mouth and the river, dirty and old and tired ... tired? Will bury us all. Or bring your loved Tiber water in the port imperial there mouths to ancient or eternal river as ill this city and now worthless and negligible on the stage of each noble human activity, to touch your water is in danger of dying. But lasciarcisi go is, in at least one moment of his life, thought and quickly concealed sigh of every Roman. The river knows the slowly passing the city and this is how her Tassinari: ready to invective, vulgar all'imprecazione, and meanwhile timid, subservient, shrewd, calculating. Arrogant in luck, distracted or worse.

My city, my place. I love my job so, take me around my city, scorrazzatemi wandering, weeping with gratitude, shame, emotion, anger.

love. And I'll sing. I will become serious and thoughtful, and sing fishing by Roman song with the least educated of my entries. The Roman tradition of folk song is not worthy to be compared with that of Naples, I know, but it is rich, varied, intense and contains large and small masterpieces. Anyway, I love her. And visit the fishing in depths unknown and singing as he sang my mother and my grandmother and my grandfather, "Nina is sleeping vui dream that you kiss v'addorcisco er sleep cantanno adac adac

... I sing and" it seems that there are nun pain ... Singing and "er my hand if he loses between Fronne ...

Nde 'night is full of dorcezza
Apparently nun esistino pain.
breeze blows a drink which is 'na caress
Smove the Fronne and makes' the flowers bloom.

Nina, who you sleep,
Let me kiss you, er
What v'addorcisco sleep
Cantanno Adachi, ADAC.
The smell of the flowers that you confonne,
on my part if it loses between Fronne.

Nina co '' I'm singing, I have I svejata,
Please forgive
love me love nun if brakes, child or loved one,
Why nun is a sin to make love

Nina, is you sleep,
Let me kiss you, er
What v'addorcisco sleep
Cantanno Adachi, ADAC.
The smell of the flowers that you confonne, Er
my hand if he loses between Fronne.

What Is The Point Of The Speedbag

reato "linguistico"

The Croatian Supreme Court confirmed the sentence to five months in prison for the Bosnian writer Predrag Matvejevic for defining "Christian Taliban" some writers nationalist Serbs, Croats and Bosnians with their writings , argued, spread, advocate more blunt and fierce nationalism, helping to foment the Balkan wars. "men of the pen rests the blame for the bulk of what has happened " Matvejecic wrote in his paper that complained about the condition of the democracies of Eastern Europe" democrature, "an ambiguous alliance between democracy and dictatorship, and the dangerous consequences of the hatred stirred up by the various nationalism has left behind after the ethnic wars of the Balkans in the '90s. Following the complaint of one of those writers called "Christian Taliban" the Bosnian writer was sentenced.

Of Matvejecic I read the beautiful "Mediterranean Breviary" I recommend to all those who have not read it.

"We're used to losing. Every day people around us moves away or disappears, a friendship or a love fades or dies, death takes away one of ours. Losing is a part of our destiny. But it is rare to lose a country. It happened to me. I do not mean a state or a regime, but just the town where I was born and still only yesterday, was mine. There is no more. I loved the whole of Yugoslavia, undivided, united, without being a nationalist Yugoslavia. I did mine in the same time, the Adriatic and the Lake Ohrid in Macedonia, the Slovenian Alps and the rocks Montenegrin. I considered Serbs and Croats as brothers, in particular those among them who, like me, opposed to chauvinism Serbian and Croatian. Not spare them to despise the Bosnians, to want to enslave or convert. I felt at home in Vojvodina, in the midst of all national minorities, and I had a lot of friends in Kosovo, including Albanians. I was working as I could to provide support to a small group of Italians in Istria remained after a tragic exodus, as well as our Gypsies scattered everywhere. The gypsies were many in my country, I sometimes I go for one of them. "

Predrag Matvejevic

Sharp Pain Right Thigh

piccole gioie

This is my fish production. Although much reduced, and also glad the heart of the palate are sweet.

Punjabi Sabzi Recipes Milk

quanto basta

They tell us that fear is, that fear is our ally. That is a warning signal that comes from our brain tells us there total investment: it tells us that we should mobilize our energies, sharpen our skills, give the best of ourselves to face a risk, a danger, a threat . Ben is the fear, we are told.

We also say that fear must not become the main protagonist, there is a quantity / quality of fear and a good quantity / quality fear of evil. A little 'as cholesterol. Of fear must have enough . Not a bit less, not an ounce more.

Fear runs on a ridge. This Side of mobility, there paralyzed. And we are poised on the ridge.

We just have to sling munirci of the apothecary and proceed.

Stabbing Pain Down Left Side Of Neck

non so:dunque non sono.

From June issue of the monthly newsletter of Ettore Masina .

1. I do not know: so I'm

Even beyond the limits imposed on the judiciary and mass-media-gag the law passed in the Senate to the dictates of Berlusconi, and now launched in the House, the assault on freedom of information threatens the very essence of democracy and personal freedoms.

"I am informed and therefore I am" is the story to suggest that finding. Even more evident is the negative version. That is to say: "I am not aware and therefore are not, do not exist." I think the millions and millions of people in the last century came to die in the name of ideals that in reality they were betrayed by those who sent them to massacre them, the poor soldiers or manufacturers pharaonic works without effect, or workers convinti che i padroni avessero sempre ragione e che dunque bisognava accettare salari di fame o che per andare in paradiso bisognava rassegnarsi alla miseria, tutti costoro furono vittime di mancanza di informazioni sulla realtà. La loro icona più celebre e più dolorosa è quella dei tre o quattro soldati giapponesi, che continuarono a vivere per trent’anni nelle giungle di qualche isola dell’Estremo Oriente, in una spaventosa solitudine e regrediti allo stato di uomini dell’età della pietra, perché mancavano di due informazioni essenziali; che il loro imperatore non era un dio invincibile e che la guerra era terminata.

Non sono soltanto realtà lontane in the years and centuries. Millions of human beings die today because the big pharmaceutical companies deny information about drugs that could save them. Millions of human beings are not able to develop their talents because illiteracy robs them of the necessary information on tools for developers: Saint-Exupéry rightly spoke of "little Mozart murdered": an immense cultural and ethical field reduced to the cemetery.

information with no information or false information with little or no real democracies. You can not, in fact, people evaluate ideas programs, then you can not choose, you can not see the results delle proprie scelte. La mancanza di informazioni copre potere occulti, criminalità, massonerie, superstizioni. Chi manca di informazioni si aggira in un labirinto costellato di trappole, in cui la luce del sole non penetra mai.

Chi ci nega informazioni sta dicendoci: tu non sei degno di sapere, sei incapace di comprendere, sei un immaturo, sei una persona di serie B ( o C o peggio); hai bisogno che ti dica io cosa devi sapere e dunque cosa devi pensare. Ogni censura è un coltello alla gola della nostra libertà. Chi ci nega informazioni è un nemico, uno che cerca di diventare nostro padrone – o di rinsaldare il suo potere.

Non possiamo hope to receive truthful information by sovereign grant. Even the news that we are given or that we have learned are not absolute truths. We need to verify the sources of the information collected, to weigh the news compared with one another. We must remember that the voices of those who "do not count" of those who are poor, those who hunger and thirst for justice are often thin or gagged. Seeking information is a difficult job but it means seeking the truth, which is the mission of the journalist but also of every person.

As I reflect on this basic truth, I read a dramatic report on declining sales of Italian newspapers in a year for 100 -9. I suppose Berlusconi's joy in learning this news: there has recently proposed to strike against the newspapers, he said offenders (including those owned by him!) of remargli against?

The problem of lack of information and therefore the frailty of our democracy is therefore alarming, regardless of the offensive Berlusconi, we are always bringing up the rear of the democratic world in terms of costs for our readings. The economic crisis has further compounded the problem. If you must cut the family budget by eliminating the costs "less necessary", is almost automatic for many, starting with the purchase of newspapers and books: "There is so much television." Reduced to the small screen, it seems, too, deprivation painful: you spend maybe, RAI and Mediaset, news and entertainment? The other day, precisely at the video, the governor of the Veneto, Brillantina Luca Zaia, told us that 13 million Italian families are at poverty level, one can think that these nuclei can afford 25 or 26 euro of spending month? Therefore, only about three million newspapers sold every morning for 47 million citizens with voting rights. A 'huge hunting ground for the Knight and his bards: the joyful Capezzone, the honest Minzolini, Rose Bondi, Bonaiuti the caressing, imparzialissimo the Vespa, the moderate Emilio Fede (trying to laugh to keep from crying) ...

And do not forget that the statistics tell us that the most serious illiterate Italians (primary or "return ", mostly elderly and Southern, but not only) are at least two and a half million . Again the 'importance of school crossing all the problems of our country. But my feeling is that teachers and young people are still left quite alone, to hold the idiocies of Gelmini Tremonti cuts iconoclasts of inculturation casermizia of Silvio Berlusconi.

Seadoo Waverunner Engines

I, jo, moi, ich, io...blogger europeo

WIKIO.IT , search engine compiled directly from its users and also digs into the material published on blogs, I long ago invited to participate in a new initiative: the construction of the first European Journal of blogs. In practice this is that it is willing to give your post a few (selected by Wikio same in our blog) is translated into French, English, English and German and published in all European sites of Wikio (wikio.fr, wikio.es , and wikio.de wikio.uk). The translations are not by machine translation software but the work of experts.

When I got the 'invitation, although flattered, I thought my blog would find very little material "exportable" because the information, especially politics, would make it sway. I realized then that the concept of Magazine would be respected. In fact, the articles chosen so far in addition to political, social or literary welcome ideas and reflections aimed at engaging the attention of users in other countries and to stimulate discussion and comments.

I have seen published on the European sites my little post "praise of the yellow" that has already been translated in French and English and is being translated into other languages. The translations are very accurate and vibrant, I am fully satisfied with it. You can make you an idea here (in French) and here (in English).

I think that we can individually bring to the attention of Twitter if you want to contribute to the magazine with your blog. In any case it seems to me a good initiative and I thank the Friends for FaceBook their attention. I hope to continue to deserve although this time I write little and badly.

First Time Masterbatting

38 gradi all'ombra


If you have very hot

take a twig of insanity

piantatevelo and eyes.

Council Alda Merini

from "aphorisms and magic"

BUR Rizzoli - 2009

What Do Red License Plates Mean Canada

"nessuno è ordinario" parola di Alice

Dear friends, I thank you all for your words of affection . Move me. During this time the feelings alternate and overlap and one chases the other. The confusion of my heart is big. In moments of discouragement I feel a strong need to communicate but I promise that I will partecipi anche dei momenti di speranza. Sulla speranza in questi giorni ho riflettuto molto. Sono ammirata da questo straordinario meccanismo psichico che ci dà la forza di affrontare le difficoltà.

Ho iniziato questa giornata già piuttosto stanca perché ho passato quasi tutta la notte a leggere. Alice Munro, Il sogno di mia madre. Sono otto racconti lunghi, scritti magistralmente. Tutte le storie sono in un certo senso incompiute e si lasciano dietro un punto di domanda. Suggeriscono l'idea che ogni vita è incompiuta ma anche quella che in ogni momento ci può essere una svolta e che questa è preparata da segni quasi impercettibili. Ma Alice Munro li percepisce e ce li warn ago. Moreover, wrote that his purpose in writing is able to "make the reader attend to something extraordinary, but not for what happens to as it happens." It's like you are interested because it's like that makes extraordinary life, even the most ordinary. Why, we are told Munro, "ordinary life is anything but ordinary."

Good day to all of us.