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.
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. 
