Windowblinds 7 Change Sid

A Pure Formality

was really a long time since I had not seen a film so beautiful, so richly beautiful. Of
"A Pure Formality" I had heard on several occasions already, and honestly I assumed it was a masterpiece, but to see it, taste it, savor it minute by minute was a treat as many!
already see a cast with Depardieu, Roman Polanski Sergio Rubini work and a very young, in a scene if we want a little "too much" - but masterfully designed, is a sight: Depardieu, not hide it, is one of my sacred cows acting, and since Roman "aldiquà" of the camera makes her beautiful effect. The direction of
Tornatore is spectacular, and the whole construction of the film really deserves a long round of applause when it moved reaches the end credits.

small personal note: the face of onoff lost in memories, troubled by the admission of its small and great weaknesses.
How many times I've seen in the mirror - I recognized her right away!

Well, in short: to see and possibly be retained, to be preserved.

How Adenomyosis Can Be Identified In Mammogram

An interesting dream.

Although open eyes, that is the same.
imagined, even dreamed of ... I dreamed of a rented room in an old house (or old, does the same).
E 'on the first floor, possibly on a square or "high street". It has a small balcony with wrought iron railings, that "pitta" myself black. The house, and hence the room, is or should be in a Sicilian village, tentatively say that Sant'Alfio (CT) should be good: modern, but still not too - "cooked" to perfection.
The room should be well designed: a square, wooden room door in the wall to the right of the door a closet "hidden", I thought of something in Japanese style with doors to match the room (or white) and right the frames, thin, black.
front of the door, the balcony - with a glass door of those "old" to the line of the waist is closed, then the four areas of glass.
the middle of the room a low coffee table, square, white or very light brown. Let's say a forty to forty, but also a thirty thirty would be fine, a few inches high.
a small vase on the table in black glass stand, with a rose inside.
On the wall opposite the cabinet we put a framework that extends in height, with a strip of raw silk in red (purple) on a canvas of papyrus.
In the wardrobe we put a small cylindrical leather cushion, a blanket, a mattress - all black.
Always hide in the closet there electrical outlets, a wardrobe minimum - three complete outfits, three pairs of shoes, three changes of clothes.
No phone, just a wi-fi modem to use a PC laptop. A small library, a stereo with speakers Bose.
In this room I would go once a month, during a weekend.
would ask for a "maid" of dust the room before my arrival, and fill the jar with water and a red rose.
to walk from the station.
the street, in addition to coffee, I stop at a newsstand to buy the local paper - if there was a nice library also take something light to keep me company over the weekend. A corner
totemic, in short, the much-desired "square meter" inviolable where do and undo at will what you want. Basically rest.
take coffee in the morning on the course - or in the square, and then returned to his room to smoke a cigarette on the balcony listening to the sounds and voices, filling the eyes of daylight. And then, sitting or lying on the floor, I immerse myself in reading the newspaper, a book ... or turn on the stereo and fumerei eyes to the ceiling listening to Battiato.

Boh?

Songs That Support Lover

San Giovanni Montebello, my land

afternoon with my mother we were in the country. I was there for a long time, in fact there have never come here with pleasure.
For me the campaign was our land Fleri (Zafferana), a beautiful villa with garden and vineyard, which has seen our best years. When it was sold in 2000 it seems to me, I was wrong - mainly because I would have expected a request for an opinion, while Mom and Dad sold it without saying "pious."

The land of St. John is small, poorly distributed (this is the side of a "throat" torrential). But let us spit on and grow something - anything.
E 'fertile suck, fruit trees are loaded for each session so powerful, it is an overflowing fruit of all kinds.
Now that my brother decided to go down it seems that it should take, it seems that some want to follow - and will not hurt, neither the body nor the mind: on the contrary! And today, while his mother was walking on the green carpet from one tree to another, I was wondering If you are unable to benefit or loss from this piece of land so special.
Oi, I do not think some kind of big bucks and / or designs! But maybe a few bucks, just to pay the costs could get out.
In fact, just follow some rotations of the fruit, taking care of the plants a minimum, to succeed without much effort to fill up baskets baskets: the modest and happy family needs you might consider selling the remainder at the market or even with a " banquet "backed out of the gate.

not know, who knows, we'll see.
The idea is, let's see if Marc will want to get there.
If I had no ties up north Almost like a little thought we would. But who knows.

Can Herpes Be On The Balls

February 19, 2007

I lost my father on February 19 this year. was Monday, I think.

Saturday there was the costume party with friends of SV Italy, Sunday evening and I accompanied Basic Caindmun to dine at Victoria Station.
I just left the room vibrates the phone: a series of missed calls from home and Miciazza.

calls from home at 11.30 am on Sunday?

and dials of my Miciazza a call comes in: the mother has called her - unable to get in touch with me. Dad the emergency room, breathing problems.

and my blood pressure rises.
excuse me a moment with the guests, and as I look at the Lilo imagine having to rocket from Catania to call the mobile phone of the mother.
mom, quiet, I said do not worry, Dad has a bit of trouble, took him to hospital for checks and controls of the case but the situation seems calm.

anxiety goes down.

for you and not call one of my many (I'm lucky, I know) acquired brothers, Alfie, who lives down and put it in early warning. I ask him to leave the mobile phone access, that night, because I might need it.

Alfio goes further: despite being "broken" because in the morning he fell during a race MBK, goes to the hospital to see that pulls air. is my brother, and all "thank you" of this world do not make me feel less indebted to him.

greeted the guests go home, I call my mother to study the situation, for me to explain: it seems that Dad had a strange day for some "hard" on him, and Sunday night, the worried mother has decided to satisfy the health conditions.
in the hospital are all the controls of the ritual, they find it a little messed up but overall seems to be well, is as good a man of 82 years.

I feel with my brother Marcello, who lives in Milan: it is stoned out of sleep, I will not scare him but ask him to stay alert.
Okay, I put in "stand by" Alfie, I take my magic pills and I lie down.

happens at 6:20.

the phone rings. when I wake up and get out of bed to answer it, I already know. is something that I have lived for decades in my paranoid mind, in a sense are used (preparation).
but it's like the rumble of an earthquake, even if you recognize it from afar, do not you ever get used to (being Etna, I speak from personal experience).

voice trembles, his mother cries desperate.

the exact words are: "Alessandro, I do not know how to tell if they're going, if they are going, they are doing the heart massage, but there's nothing to do ..." .

is a train that derraglia.
and the earthquake.
is a disaster unlike any other.
is the noise it makes when it becomes the life history.

and active but I am strangely calm, who knows the rivers of adrenaline in the blood.
ask her not to worry, with my usual grace ordering them - perhaps, in reality, I'm ordering.
hangs up, without even finishing the last sentence, collapsed.

the Miciazza who woke up asking me what happens, I tell him without saying anything.
name is Alfio, I ask him to go by her mother, he is operating more of me, hangs up without too many frills, "I'm going, I'll call you."

name is Marcello. is still dazed, seems to bear the brunt. consult the internet to see how to move flight: the planes dropped for logistical once landed in Catania you decide for your car.

are seven ten.

coffee after the first of many cigarette on the terrace to make the point to myself what just happened. and there is little to baste fairy tales, there is no time or space for considerations of any kind, because it is too soon and that my command and control center can not devote energy to other matters that are awake and feel well prepared for the journey.

you should know that whenever I go home and Marco set in Sicily by car, the journey is a comprehensive analysis of the situations - I at Bologna, he in Milan, Giarre parents - are living.
we jokingly call "cathartic journey" and not even know if it is a catharsis or is it something else.

I fill up Lilo, I write two lines about the Forum - an attempt to vent? hope a tear that is not? - Phone uncles in Milan and then I'll get my brother in
station in Bologna.
collapsed, and while I'm on the weight of the other operational clarity envy him because he cries, unable to cry. I shit.

perhaps because they are confused, because I try to weigh rationally the event, but how can you rationally assess the fact that your father's history, has it been? and then remain nearly in a loop with myself, and I focus on what to do.

Lilo to push the throttle input from the A1 motorway and exit at Salerno, without too many metaphors I speak of 190 fixed in the third lane slowing down (sometimes, not always)
only in the presence of cameras.
if I were to give a rational explanation for this high speed, well, not there. do not need to run, if not to get to handle the situation - which, moreover, is already operating by itself.
need to run instead, emotionally, to distract me from everything that is not driving. and does me good. I do not think of anything but driving.
as we go along the peninsula with faso me home, I feel Alfie - he is doing exactly what you expect to face a Friend, and is an indescribable feeling to find such a confirmation.
also feel my mother, who is very slowly taking breath.

with Marcello talk, we talk so much. sometimes he blurts out in a sob, I will smile as brothers, I tell him to "allow all" if it's to do so.

arrive at eleven and something we have spent almost exactly eleven hours (less the twelve from the roadmap): if the Salerno - Reggio Calabria vomiting was not a goat would be arrived at least two hours before, maybe even less (1100km to 190kmh =?).

the door is clearly open. Marcello
enters spray, Dad resting in the living room, Marcellus cries.
I sigh, sigh deeply, yet I did not realize that inside that container wood is the body of my father, as they say: I do not ability.
embrace the mother, is stunned, persissima.
Alfio is there, hug him, tell him "Thank You" I miss him and replies, takes for granted his presence there, that I have to thank for?

the rest of the story is a lake of coffee, a lawn of cigarettes, a few words, the persistent disbelief in front of the corpse even smile to see him there, looking comfortable with his eternal wry smile, as if he were still alive .
actually do a great difficulty to understand that he is dead.

and then, Okay, we have the paperwork to be completed in these situations, home visits are acceptable to the funeral to handle.
the funeral. a final farewell.
is all a "last" when they close the coffin, at home, is the last time I see the face of my father.
when the coffin out of the door, is the last time his body to the threshold.
when the coffin is closed in the niche, then it's the last time we see the container that hosts it.

is "an" end. is the end of youth, is the end of a story begun thirty-six years ago.
Dad no more, now.

and already returned home if they feel the absence, the family is "incomplete."

... how many lives, he lived.
many stories.
tuttosommato was a great experience, an adventure epic day: thanks, of course, his taste for "romance". taste which must come in time by dint of suffering, if it must be tragic, tragicomic life that is at least!

dad.
a big pain in the ass, indeed, a Mr Rompigolioni, not a pirletti any!
all what he did (no matter how good or bad) ever did wearing the clothes of the Divine.
cheering spectators and has had quite a few: even though there was some criticism, even strong. but summing up the result is still in surplus.

now, every so often, I just see something that concerns him to begin to feel the emptiness inside.
the memory takes me back to the last time I saw it, was the first in Bologna and Milan, then during the Christmas holidays.
cock, it seems almost yesterday. seems almost yesterday that he was here, and instead is' yesterday and now there is and there will be more.

dad.
who had insisted more than ever to take home for her birthday (March 19, gone exactly one month before).
remember that I was surprised by his request: in theory the weekend of 19 I had already planned a commitment with the boys of the Forum, and then the past was always just a phone call cards! Marcello
I wanted to check with your request:

"Look, Dad called, he says if we go down for his birthday. In fact I'd already committed, but what do you think? "

" I go, for you see you . I want to see him and every year that passes is one more year. In my opinion you should give up the commitment "

" But do you think there any reason to worry? In fact it is a life that says that sooner or later die, but it's still here, and in fact is fine ... "

" Do as you like. I go down, I think you should come too, "

" Okay, okay, then I'll come "

in practice I wanted to understand, I tried to understand through the" feeling "of my brother if the request was, shall we say, motivated or not.

because you know that Dad has spiritually prepared for his departure by at least twenty-five. in recent times, every time it was good to come up with topics such as inheritance or something.
argument that follows, but without giving too much weight: it is a life that spoke, "Wolf Wolf!".
the wolf at the end, I can say to surprise came: and all the spiritual preparation is not served with a cock.

returned to Bologna I stopped taking the tablets, so, I mean, if I hit a straight like my "depression" and / or anxiety if they can safely go to hell.
every time I take something for sleep, but in a spot.

not know yet how I am, I am discovering little by little every day.
soprano I think that, except for a couple of hiccups (repressed, also) I have not really cried.
soprano I think that I think little, not even a month after the disaster, what has happened and it changed my life without appeal.
I often wonder if I'm insensitive, or just my control center is keeping the situation within reason for my mental health - honestly I thought I'd sketched, such as must be said: and instead here I am like a rock And I do not know if in this case is a compliment.

sorry, I light up a straw and I read everything.
I also took two moments, the back does not like the atmosphere in Bologna.

is all for tonight, I'm not going to add more.
"the writing is uncertain, the prose sometimes incorrect" but that's okay.
goodnight.

goodnight, Dad.

Red Capillary Spot Face

Intacto

some reason, when I saw the first poster for the film I thought of something about the instinct to Pinochet's Chile or anything like that , But quandomai =))))

In fact, the movie is about some lucky that challenge - and challenge yourself - to show and demonstrate their most luck.
Physical contact may deprive them of the "gift" - this is called the ability to tap into the fortune of others, such capacity is exploited to increase their power to do so.

... well, come on, let's say tonight are not plots. Now if you followed my instructions some film and you felt good, give me straight once again: it is a film worth seeing and store.

Good direction, good photography, very interesting recitations. Overall a bell'8 + to film lever will not let anyone;)

Ah, if someone sees a reference to the video for "Vood people" by The Prodigy, well, let's say it un'hommage;)

Enjoy.

Standard And Euro Sham Sizez

Emmo enough.

Mad
ON
black day.
giornatina just black.
I have the broad shoulders, okay, I can take more punch than I expected, ok.
but eventually give in, it's normal, I break the scrotum.
eventually I tired of having to hold one thousand weights on their shoulders.
a story ends and another begins, and so on, and at some point enough.
at some point I would turn off the lights, lie down and rest a bit tranquil, stress-free that I run in my head. eh. after a while, I mean a break just the scrotum to constantly defend themselves from everything.
I personally do not take it anymore.
I'm just pushed to its limits.
mò enough: saint yet still can be done, no martyr. I've got it written on their foreheads, joyful?
enough is enough.
now take the bull by the horns (like a new thing for me), you talk tete-a-tete and see what to do. do not pay me to slam it inside and outside the home. I'm not the hero of the profession.

now we chat a bit, you do the testing if the ritual and what is wrong there is always a "Plan B" in the drawer: the plan alder, the escape plan. Because the escape, the words of my dear departed teacher topography, "it is shame, but saved lives."
thirty-six years and this life to me I would still enjoy a little bit.

Mad OFF

Can Genital Warts Burst?

Code 46

Dedicated to those who are certain that someone else can always choose for you.

Dedicated to those who are certain that out of the rain is always better than to live according to pre-designed track is better than going to their emotions.

Dedicated to all of us, before it's too late - but perhaps it already is.

Trish Stratus Removing Her Dress In Raw

Dad.

I would like to talk about my father. Should I do it, I feel, at least download some of the weight off my shoulders and I will take that port.
Dad left this plane of existence, as is often the name of earthly life on February 19 last year.
In a sudden and painful for those left "side" has closed his experience on this earth.
I would like to talk about it, and I will do, but not tonight, not as "arm" - his life, as he has told it remains a well-thumbed book of which I have a few pages.
I always speak with affection, even when I define a "misfit" in time, a survivor himself and to the century that saw him be born and live a thousand lives as an adventurer.
Adventures in part salgariane (experienced by a comfortable couch), partly real - and often painful, to be eternal loser, defeated before the events of himself: his bulky flavors, bundles that have bent the spirit, making it often quarrelsome ( also here: more to himself than to others).

An awkward presence, and the general "full" until a few days ago he left a great void.

I'll talk to Dad, and do I have to go back a long time, will necessarily retrace his steps to find the answers today that until yesterday he sipped, stuffed (intentionally or not) of baroque completely out of place and truth part - indeed, one can not expect that anyone told his story seen through the eyes of others: his life, his path is a must subjective. A good objective analysis, you can always groped, but not a must.

Dad.
Calabrese to the core, remains pegged to the prehistoric era for us today, devoid of ideals and social support and / or the moral vicissitudes it has experienced.
My father was a dinosaur! But how many things you can learn from dinosaurs, sometimes.
First of all: how to avoid extinction. How to save your skin, whatever the cost. How to survive themselves and an environment not a friend. But it is a

long story, and I still long to tell.