Proxy To See Soutpark

Just a few words

Dear,

this not send the letter, the words have not heard, the echo that haunts me softly.

When there are too many sentences that would scream, always ends up breaking them in half, so I know I am going to write these few lines, not knowing what to say or not say.

I'm fine (and do you care?), I'm happy (?) (And do you care?), I think (and do you care?).

are overwhelmed by the busy schedule, traveling to organize new knowledge, sometimes I am delighted to drag men embarrassed that I would keep me head or flatters me the time of my easy conquests. I live moments of intense passion, live the wait as a teenager in love, I learned to laugh, a smile that I had forgotten childish.

ask myself every day what I want and who I am always near, latent terror of falling ... and losing this subtle serenity, light muslin.

One week of solitude does not scare me, so as not to disturb me to the dawn of a martini glass and a Port Authority. The feeling of having found myself, worth more than anything else. I speak not of you but I think of you immensely and all I see, is like the objects that together we have touched. What I hold most dear? What do you know? You always think I know, but at night you darkened thoughts. On

my desk and the Aleramo Baum and Countess Lara and Moran, everything takes me back to you. On the walls of Schiele drawings and nudes photography acquired in a Tuscan village long ago. And I lose all sense of reality when left alone. I'll be back in a beautiful letter, in the memory of "us" and what "we" was. But no one will understand.

are unfriendly and contradictory, are good, step by sleepless nights to days swollen with dreams. I was unaccustomed to "feel" like I feel loved. Perhaps suffering. I am a spoiled selfish I get I get and take more.

Since you do not see it, I lowered the bridge and waited anxiously all the good and happiness, but life is made even moments of evil, and the enormous distances are based.

are so full of life and feelings of love and enthusiasm, because we are away? Do not play with words, slowly we dissected our souls and where were you on my birthday?

I understand, in this short time, that there is a plan for humanity and one for the interest. The first is made up of winding streets and evil, but of immense skies and explosives, the second takes you for days and months to let you down in the empty rooms, where to retire in yourself is the only remedy. Interest. But what is there to see? I did not already said in the face the entire mess dress that all my life? And why time to lose interest, men and women go, they arrive, they delude themselves to take and then bounce back. It 's my job.

And I like to think of you happy. I like to think with a smile in the afternoon. I'm very happy that you exist, bursting with joy because I had the good fortune to meet you. Here

social relations as an English club in golf, the descendants of the apes can not win my respect and individual civilians shall not excite me.

Many dinners and seductive games, devotions and courtship here. There are those who understand that it is not enough to tickle a lion to make it docile.

I would tell you many more things, but the shame is holding me back.

leaves you a kiss that was it.

Mimi

How To Make A Garbage Truck Cake

Children arsonists

When I was a little girl my favorite playmate was my older cousin Francis. Exist about two and a half years between our birth and my baby's eyes he was my hero! Most fantastimitico the world "did this Checco, Checco said that .." he was always the best. He knew how to play football for god and above all it allowed me to play (in goal of course ..) and when his shot para un I felt so smart for a couple of days my face was smug and proud of who won the Pulitzer . He could dribble the ball in a way unparalleled for me .. dribbles came to 150! Playing cops and robbers, I did not mind that he was to choose who to be between the two rivals, Bell, hide and seek, for acchiapparello, the huts (we have built dozens .. only to be sadly disrupted by their grandfather after they finished 5 minutes ...) but we had a "perversion" .. we loved the fire. Yeah, just fire. But not because we saw him as a destroyer of forests and buildings, but because it was so terribly young marmots! A fire meant to live the adventure. Finding warmth in a black night in the jungle while a makeshift torch keep snakes at bay and tigers! There might not be the jungle or the wild animals had only a small fire and the adventure began. However, it was very easy to light one. Also because there was always the possibility of being caught doing a dangerous thing and then to take them seriously. Often, therefore, my astute cousin sent me on ahead in the kitchen of his grandmother, whose home we met often, to scrub the matches. He knew I was smaller and therefore less sgamabile .. and especially if all went for the worse he would come out clean. But I was happy, excited and proud of that task so difficult and dangerous. I felt a little 'Margot (to lupine ..) and a little' Wonder Woman. I approached casually cooking and fires, and while the big talking amongst themselves, some match slipped his sleeve top and then returned, without running, in the closet where I waited for Frank. Show him triumphant three or four matches stolen, but he told me disapprovingly, "What we do co mo 'three matches! Go away pija of cchiù." So I went back to attack me without knowing my demoralize could be seen coming and going .. so I went into the kitchen, I took a glass of water, I stopped to look at the yard from the window and I finally brought us closer to the match .. and OP! I used to disappear all over the package given the approval of my cousin. I recall with satisfaction the satisfied grin and the look of praise of Francis. We had dozens of matches!
I remember that on that particular occasion we started to light a match at a time watching the flame that consumed the stick until the end .. magic! But we had so many that we could make more. So the idea! I had received this book as a gift for the birthday of the young marmots and I remembered that among the various techniques of survival was the best way to fix the wood to make a camp fire. We had to put them all in a radial pattern with one end close to each other to form a kind of Capannelle. So we did, with the added brilliance to put 50 matches and passes radially Coccetti with all the red in the center and near. We closed the closet door slowly and approached a lighted match to the heap in the form of bonfires. It was a moment, a huge blaze flared up, the little heads of sulfur s'infuocarono together with them .. and the curtains of acrylic of the window. The panic took hold of us. But not because we were putting fire to grandmother's house as the face slaps and blows on the back that we would have caught a little later if they are discovered! We tried to extinguish the fire badly knocked over with some folded clothes to the washing machine .. also acrylic. An absolute frenzy, but despite the hell espandesse before our eyes neither had the courage to go and confess the great thing was happening. It probably would have been better left to die of suffocation and burned alive rather than face the wrath of his grandmother and beaters to the mothers. We looked into his eyes a second to give us quietly and tragically when he entered our last goodbye uncle Quirino attracted by the smell of smoke and the suspicious silence of our games. He said nothing, looked at us, our faces terrified and guilty, the curtains on fire and the fire that was spreading quickly. We pulled out and with all three buckets of water extinguished.
The only thing I remember clearly the "after" was likely to die of suffocation and burned alive would certainly have been less painful.

Toothpick Bridge Designs And Blueprints

My editorial man on Luuk Magazine

www.luukmagazine.com / en / editorial

Photographer: Miriam De Nicolò

Styling: Scarlett Culos

Make-up: Paola Longaretti

Model: Federico Tripoli

Thanks to: Luke and Anastasia @ Luuk Magazine

Human Error On A Theodolite

The brevity of the nice things

Tonight I reflected on a fact ..
you, because obviously some people sleep at night and people like me find a thousand interesting things to do instead of resting. Among these there is also the reflection. Among the others are in order: the spiluccare every type of wickedness from the fridge, watch dvd x once again preferred to play the pc, torment the cat or dog, smoking another cigarette and so on.
But back to my deep thought .. I wonder why all the nice things last for so little. And I mean not only that the flight will come to mind (hehe.. Also "that" is fast but sometimes disarmingly so) but like this: the summer? It does not last too little? You do not have time to overcome that bastard costume test for which you gave to the well olive oil sull'insalata you are already ripropina the dreaded health undershirt that creeps right into your pants!
And the day of rest? When was the last day of rest in which you are not able to relax .. .. but to do all the things you believe you were able to conclude? Too little! Dura too little!
And ice cream? The candy? The Big Babol!? Once the waste is invested by the heady scent .. put it in your mouth and chew you believe that forever .. and instead miss a minute and you get a bunch immasticabile and anything but sweet .. such as if you were to chew the rubber gasket of high school!







Not to mention the trip! I am a huge supporter of "do one trip a year (if je kr with the money ...) but at least for 15 days! Otherwise we do not go for the thing!" What I am going to 7 days ago!? Two to go and come back two to get used to the idea of \u200b\u200bthe arrival and departure and you are fantastic three days to visit all over the country ... well, sure to have super powers you would succeed as well.

Think So well you .. "The brevity of the nice things ... and then tell me whether it is better for me to be a good remedy for insomnia

How Often Should My 18 Week Old Feed

the Age of Dinosaurs

today to reflect on the incredible evolution technology from a few years now. E 'became part of our everyday life, a large number of objects, tools and appliances of every style and utility. We think that the first GSM mobile phones in 1987? I am 24 years that came into our lives! Yet many young men and children do not know what it means to "wait" call home, or "frees up the phone!" or even hear the heavy pants pocket for coins the telephone booth. The phone is a subject so familiar that even children who can not yet talk already know how to use it!
I have almost 35 years and yet sometimes, talking to a twenty, I feel like a dinosaur. At school I had to do internet searches. I used the 30-volume encyclopedia and pictures cut from magazines of the mother. And how many magazines I browse for an image relating to the giraffe, the Greeks or the Middle Ages?! Then once unearthed the right to cut out with nail scissors (the ones with the rounded point we had only those who had money to spend unnecessarily) and pasted on the book with glue stick. But I knew what was still the Coccoina!

And the dishwasher? What a wonderful invention that .. I remember that before the advent of the meal you had just finished doing the dishes ("otherwise you encrust!") And it was a ritual that you could not escape or delay. Just after the apple you get to the sink did you fumantine sauce and detergent brr .. if you do not come back up everything was a fortune.

I even remember the first phase of the remote control. At home we had one TV in black and white will have had 15 yes and no. "It was orange plastic (very seventies), deeper than the top, with the antenna attached dual antennas on the type of butterflies and to turn the channels had to get up, get closer and turn a black knob that clicks on a different channel. Crazy, when I think now I wonder how it was possible not sclera. Then came the TV new, large, in color. Will have been 22 inches but I think the cinema. And the colors ... while Dad tuning in rustling black and white, a color image sometimes appeared and I jumped for joy, shouting "LOOK LOOK! Watch is red!". Beautiful moment.
And the CD? It seems that we did not .. but he is almost always already surpassed by the USB portable hard drives. And yet ... and yet there was something before the CD ..
The floppy disk, and before that soft, and even before the tape and the cassette, and vinyl. I remember I used to rewind the tape a bic pen. I slipped in one of the two little holes and I could rotate as the rattle of wood. So I did not use the batteries in the walkman. There was not IPod. Eeee .. I'm a nostalgic sometimes.

Rival Model 1101e Parts List

Hands up who has never cried with a song.

And so it was all hands remained down. Why am sure that everyone, without distinction, men or women, at least once in their life were in that magical and intimate moment where the music gets inside you and fills you up to move you. Sometimes it takes us by surprise, perhaps in the car while going home from work, or while studying with a transistor radio to keep us company. At times we went to look, as when we are sad because the love has left us or are we excited about a beautiful sunny day ... and then quietly ask the music to amplify our feelings. And you flexible and expert slips on the skin, it tickles the eyelashes, blows on the head the thrill of emotion.
I found myself shaken by sobs for the strength of the notes, with his chest puffed and almost no breeze manages to keep you within the soul. Some melodies are like a raging torrent, and I almost choked I come. Pianos paced, rousing percussion, guitars and needles.
There is a piano sonata known as the "Moonlight "by Beethoven that invariably ends up being moved ... I can not do, is stronger than me!
Here I had the wish to give me a dose of pure emotion .. now I turn the dvd I'll make a CD of Edvard Grieg and I surrender to Celtic magic and visions ... the little people will accompany me into the arms of Morpheus.

Goodnight world.

Bmx Bicycles For Sale In South Africa

The ant and the blade of grass

As a child I lived in a penthouse on the sixth floor in the middle of town. Urbanisation around me and enveloped me like a hug intrusive. Maybe I did not realize how much I tightened the same cement, but I certainly realize how much I miss nature. It was in the small everyday things that I tried feverishly. And I found it. Always. Yes, because the nature of mica can not escape by climbing a six-storey or more holed up in the gray of the city! She becomes silent and discreet way anyway.
on my terrace in fact the life teeming frenetic under the eyes of those who sought it carefully. And I was looking all right! File
of long shiny ants carrying payloads proud and tough for their small pincers and I like a spy in disguise, hiding their eyes from my gigantic size, followed up to small hole in the wall. The portal leading to the mysterious secret nest. Oh what I would like to be tiny like them to visit that place. The perfect society. All for one and for all. All working hard for the common good, no stealing, do not kill each other, do not want more and do not have the money. The Curse of the world, money.
But to me, girl, liked especially because they were very strong and I was wondering how they ever got up to the sixth floor .. maybe they had an elevator Formichino running up and down in the gutter! I would not surprised.
on the windowsill and then there were some really tiny critters. You had to be very careful to see them. They were the spiders red, tiny mites that tireless running from side to side. Even though I've never understood what it was intended.
But the real miracle was the grass. My
terrace ran all around the apartment and was completely floored with tile reddish very seventies. Although they had been laid very well there was something he had won the strength of the concrete. The blades of grass. I did not know how, but the tender, delicate and defenseless blades of grass had made their way between the cement and tile, and tenacious sprouted here and there. Unbelievable. How could a tiny fly to sow the world and end up in the most barren of deserts and hard and still be able to claim his slice of life! We would be able a man?
I remember one morning my mother wanted to tear it all away because he feared that in the long run would have raised and broken tiles. I literally did come a crying to force her to do otherwise. After nearly an hour of crying and slamming of feet we reached an agreement. She would leave the plants there and I would take care of them until they would grow a little and then we would have uprooted together without breaking them and we planted in a pot. Beautiful!
Thanks Ma.

Gay Cruising Spots In Camden Nj

The hard life of adolescents. Jeans.

today reflects the importance that took the jeans during adolescence. In short, they were a status symbol, a way to join the group, you could wear a uniform that indiscriminately everywhere! At school, at home, at church, at the supermarket, walking, weddings, evening .. everywhere! You should not even think about "what I wear" .. they were out on the back of the chair, or more often on the ground, winking and smiling. And you always felt pussy and in place. And then grows, as well as the age increases, so does the waist. And the jeans are dying and their irresistible charm. The charm is inversely proportional to the accumulation jeansesco adipo-cells.
I remember as a teenager, I had 17 years that a superfighissima my classmate gave me to try his Levis jeans, saying she did not like most and wanted rivenderseli. It was a triple benefits. Designer jeans (utopia for me) a little cash, plus the super cool class skintight. Skintight.
So were a sort of changes from super sexy Snake!
strong I remember of my 45 KG (good memories ..) I went home and gleefully looking forward to insert them to see how I was. I locked myself in the room just after lunch (big mistake ..) took off my jeans and pulled out of the backpack's gnoccajeans. With a fluid motion and quick appuntai feet in the two legs and pulled up. Well, I tried to pull them up. Great was my disappointment. It stubbornly blocked legs. But my stubbornness nell'indossarli was well in excess of them! So I shook his buttocks and thighs in jeans inzeppai bags as the salami in the gut. I felt the experience of the sausage. But I consoled myself, I had heard that they put some talcum powder on his legs to make them more slippery. Or maybe it was for leather pants ..
But my fight was not over yet. I had to button and zip close. Before I tried to pull it with conviction, if the important thing is to believe, and I believe it all right, would be closed in a flash ..!
sad But after 10 minutes I was still there. Just a little 'more sweat and his face more neurotic.
So I tried and tried again to pick up in the belly. If I had managed to pull in your thighs ..
Nothing.
In a last desperate attempt to lay down on the bed retired and sent it to life in maximum compression tirabile also the soul. E. .. zip! The magic worked. It was closed!
I tried to get out of bed and unable to bend your upper body looks more like a turtle upside down in agony. So I rolled on its side and not to breathe too I approached the mirror. Ohhhhh .. I was beautiful! I looked like a model! I looked like my super cool friend! .. I looked like a turtle in sausage rolled in agony with chronic respiratory problems!
Holy God, but who was the maniac who had perverted invented a machine to slow death by disguising it and devilish fashion garment? But Mr. Levis was a crazy face sexist legalized the suffering of women!
It took me much less to take them off (so to speak ..).

Labelled Diagram Of Attitude Indicator

What a responsibility!

EEEE .. write the first blog post is like starting a new book of first grade. You already know that it will observe the teacher assessment and then Mom, Dad, Grandma. And even though, not to be discouraged, all in front of your chicken legs crooked say "But braaaaava! But how have you been on the ball!" deep down you know that this book is a scandal! So forgive you down, erase, rewrite and improve with his tongue out between his teeth tight to deserve the compliments. In fact, I have rewritten these two lines already like three times ..
But I console myself. Perhaps in time I will learn to weave compelling plots and intriguing speeches like the spiders with their magical paintings. But we think the cobwebs? I personally have always fascinated me a lot. It seems as if Nature herself in the morning will make a tribute to the skill of the small arachnid ringing of the pearls lustrous. Absolutely magical. Even for this never kill a spider, I have too much respect to his genius.

Please Insert Cd 1 Adobe Master Instaler Cs3

PALACE OF THE DUKES OF SANTO STEFANO, headquarters of the foundation Mazzullo Mazzullo

New Chicks Bornwith Funny Messages

Elisha Foundation

Gush Of Blood While On Your Period

photos

30 seconds of shots.

Karin by Me

Pokemon Silver Vba English Version

If serotonin is harbored books, I'd always be in seventh heaven

Today I finished reading "The Virgin Suicides" by Jeffrey Eugenides. It 'a period of suicidal authors, I love their writing afterlife, verging on death, though combative and vivid.

E ' day was incredibly active, even if I could do more. After a steaming cup of strong coffee, I wrote a page to work, a diary, a letter, a web search (this is a daily habit), I got a new book which will draw up a list of entries and exits of 2011 (just to give me a set).

There are many good intentions for the new year, start by giving me the rules and continue the work on myself. I forced myself to watch a film at least a month in French and in English twice a month, this to improve in vocabulary and listening ; continue to read a lot, but we should put in writing more often, no hope to write well if there is no exercise.

If I could change the length of day, so if you had to use a fourth hour instead of 24, began to take piano lessons and painting, but the day and night do not mark my will, someone above us all so touching and I wanted to make some sacrifices, even if reluctantly.

I realize at least two of my wishes and my ambitions this year, to see them take shape and I'd make another trip in solitude, perhaps in an Italian city, who knows. I need my encouragement to write, to speak with interesting people and seeing a speech that can teach me something. The other day, for example, I discovered what the potlatch -report here a copy and paste from wikipedia - (it is a ceremony taking place among some Native American tribes of the Pacific Northwest of the United States and the Canada, which takes the form of a ritual ceremony, which traditionally includes a feast of seal meat or salmon, which are destructive practices of ostentatious goods considered "luxury") and nobody but me can understand the joy that I tried to learn this new term. Nothing makes me happier than learning. A housewife could reveal the secret of his recipe, I'd be equally happy. If serotonin is harbored books, I'd always be in seventh heaven.

I know I have to live with day and with other explosive creativity of apathy. I'm not scared. I know the loneliness I'll try to recharge and bring order to my thoughts, I also know that there will come a time when my social life will become intense, and then go out and be nice to talk about anything and will be equally beautiful to hear a music that never buy cd.

If only I could explain to people that I love, that my silence is not a departure, a friend, that if I avoid a hug is not because I do not like, but why do I want more ...

If only I could not keep malice, if my mind had the ability to cancel a portion of memory, then maybe I could be happy forever. But my shoulders are curved when I think about it, and my stomach hurts, everything darkened and it's like knowing that you will give birth to a stillborn baby.

But this is the work that gives me 'life and will bear fruit, and my well-being and sickness will be the key to what I will create. And I know that I shall not live until I see a flower born from my sweat.

I assume full responsibility for my choices and rattopperò my mistakes, I'll be good every morning and read the best of Confucius (but there are other theories about belonging to the sentence) written character headlines:

NOT do to others what 'you would not want done to yourself.

Selfishness always ruin everything. The maturity starts from admission of his guilt.

Woman Strangle Man Movies

Dominika Krzyścik Zabrze

Thigh Pain And Ovulation

Elisha Foundation Mazzullo

-TAORMINA Fondazione Mazzullo-PALACE OF THE DUKES OF SANTO STEFANO

Taormina Arte 5-26 January 2011

Cummingsiana

Views poetic Eliseo Lagana taken from

Poems love of ee cummings (translated by Salvatore Di Giacomo)

A selection of paintings that display the unpublished poems of the most innovative and experimental American poet, the "Shelley American who, with his visual poetry on the page led to the embrace magic of poetry and painting

Cra Deductible Professional Liability

Differences Parker Razors

Each piece of history

(Spitzweg The Poor Poet-)

Every passionate gesture goes low when there is inability to share. There are tormenting things, that the other can not understand, cruel facts are that the other can not understand or avoid, in this, I feel sad way of life. Weeping

I confessed my weaknesses and suffers I have shown in the hope of hunting, fighting against my character, I tried the union, the balance, but time has shown me how hard everything wilt faced with the impossibility of sharing.

There are marriages that have reached a certain brightness, a transparency that makes dialogue easy, fluid, perhaps the experiences in these pairs will be similar so it is easy to understand. Other couples however, have conquered the peak of the passions, the adventures, they are immune from boredom, recalcitrant in the face of monotony, but with something different, diametrically opposed. What haunts them is the difficulty deaf their behavior. How can, for example, a man who has lived without emotional tears, without injustice free, get to understand who has suffered? It 's like talking on either side of bulletproof glass.

disillusioned note my building sand, the commitment of these years, caution in the use of words, the determination to continue, some pot is broken and recomposed, sometimes yield to melancholy, or look out glass people pass without doing anything, without moving, without reacting. But if at times, someone stopped thinking, stopped on their thoughts, even if they do evil, hear his voice, rather than flee. The secret lies in silence. And then you might understand, even if remotely, because the poets are turning to the Moon, while the Christian God We seek the right phrase or dispel the hatred, you grasp the abstract for more concrete. We are so flawed that we should spend more time under a sky instead of beneath the shingles of a bar.

When humor so black, I like to write and look at the trees outside the window, a time walking alone in the woods at night ... alone ... With the desire to feel free or call it quits. Today I continue in my efforts, in consonance and dissonance of my affections, to admit in the pain in my intimacy with veiled eyes. And in the quiet nights, I see the echo of a brainless laughing uncontrollably or the right message delivered to the wrong person. It all fades away, a meaningless caress, an embrace melts and becomes aware of the futility of some reports and understand why two people try, they feel two friends, two friends are seen. It always seeks his fellow man.

The lesson of life did not learn anything, because in the end I love or hate, but balance! I hate the antics of a silly jokes or biting a man refused. I love the smiles, the innocence of children and the starry nights, contempt stains on the clothes and the flaunting of sex, I love the swallows in spring, and rosebuds. I abhor those who pretend to have understood and those who believe to lie well, I love the humility of a guilty person who asks for forgiveness, the tears of those who hate cry several times the same fault and I love the tears of those who suffer wedged into their penis.

And I love my childish outbursts, little excitement, the adrenaline of nothing, as when children see the bubbles in the air and go crazy with joy, a joy to poor, honest. And I condemn those who break my dreams, who makes me the moral and kill the first enemy he encounters on the street. And I love life because of its brevity and its imperfection. And even if I ruin the solitude, I am happier when I am alone. Why I'm satisfied with little. The pages of a book, the white of my diary. And the story to add.