Io adoro il vento caldo.
Lo scirocco, quando gioca con me.
Il vento caldo non si cura di star fermo e tocca.
E scopre e scompiglia ogni cosa.
Salto.
È selvaggio il mio salto…è selvaggio il tuo vento.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Langerhans Cell Histiocytosis Celiacs Disease
Io adoro il vento caldo.
Lo scirocco, quando gioca con me.
Il vento caldo non si cura di star fermo e tocca.
E scopre e scompiglia ogni cosa.
Salto.
È selvaggio il mio salto…è selvaggio il tuo vento.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Iron Board Closing Mechanism
Castellabate - Federico II di Soave wind between sounds and voices of the Mediterranean
Il posto è bellissimo e la serata è splendida. È una notte di luna piena: è fine agosto, il 27, siamo nel cuore del Cilento a Castellabate, nel cortile interno del Castello Medioevale.
Ad There is a welcome relaxing music and torches to illuminate this starry night. We note with pleasure that there is no stage, the set consists of a bed, two wings and a blue light curtains, white, almost transparent, which moves in the wind.
We stand between the chairs placed in a semicircle to watch the play "Federico II of Gentle Wind" directed by Antonello Santarelli with the Theatre Company and Zeta Manuel Morgan, who also wrote the text.
come to mind the verses of Dante's Paradise:
"That's the light of the great Constance
that the second wind of Soave
begat the third and the last might. "
with reference to the fact that Frederick was il terzo ed ultimo imperatore svevo.
Lo spettacolo si svolge nell’ambito della Manifestazione “Suoni & Voci Mediterranei”, che è giunta alla sua quarta edizione.
La visione è gratuita ed ha l’alto patrocinio del Ministero dei Beni Culturali settore Spettacolo.
Il padrone dello spettacolo, al nostro arrivo, è il vento caldo, che scompiglia i lunghi tendaggi bianchi e, per dispetto, spegne alcune torce. Questo rende tutto suggestivo. Il buio non c’è: è rischiarato dalle stelle, e dalla sfera perfetta di una luna bassa, che di là del perimetro del castello, biancheggia nel cielo, nascondendosi al nostro sguardo.
Al nostro arrivo, verso le 21: 30, there are few people, then gradually, distinguished audience sits silent on the semicircle of chairs.
beginning of the show, shortly after 22:00, the courtyard is full, someone will stand during the show.
In light of the full moon, before the start of the show, we see that there are no microphones on stage and we like that too.
lights, now extinct, two are mounted on high pedestals and their impact on the scene is discreet. To delimit the stage there are candles that the wind off.
The show begins: a young woman, illuminated by white light, invites us to turn off cell phones and to respect the silence as much as possible, because the actors not be amplified.
Incense, candles and clothes monks wander into a darkened stage. The music quality is excellent. The movement, made unclear by the poor lighting, are very attractive.
The show takes its rhythm and stage alternating five players: some play multiple roles, others interpret a single character.
We were expecting a show and witness a historic love story rather classic cut.
The plot of the show tells of the love conflict between Frederick and Bianca Lancia.
According to legend, which was handed down from father Bonaventure Lama and recovery from the historic Pantaleo, during pregnancy, Bianca, Federico la tenne rinchiusa in una torre del castello di Gioia del Colle, perché la credeva adultera. La Principessa non poté resistere all’umiliazione; vinta dal dolore, si tagliò i seni e li inviò all’imperatore su di un vassoio d’argento assieme al neonato. Federico la raggiunse e la trovò moribonda. La donna gli chiese allora di legittimare il figlio, Manfredi, e di sposarla e ciò avvenne in punto di morte.
L’uomo che avrebbe amato Bianca Lancia era Pier delle Vigne.
Una storia a tre: lui, lei, l’altro.
Forse Federico II, lo"Stupor Mundi", avrebbe meritato di più.
Lo spettacolo ci riempie di belle musiche, giochi semplici ed efficaci di luci, ben studiate, che create beautiful images, almost painterly paintings, beautiful voices and live recordings, performed masterfully, give us a nice evening. A big applause goes to the audio-lighting service, whose skill was necessary to the success of the show. The clothes are taken care of, some images are made skilful use of spectral curtains, which become the dominant element of the scene. The wind continues to play with the draperies, making a great service to the success of the show. We expected the beautiful Morgan
a bare back and we have had, as always, this time was well lit and bathed in a basin for the weekly bath Emperor, barely concealed by curtains, the wind raised lenient.
Bravissimo the actor who played the jester, to whom, unfortunately, the time to say goodbye, it was not done with the other name and that was not presented to an attentive and discreet.
Milena Esposito. 
Il posto è bellissimo e la serata è splendida. È una notte di luna piena: è fine agosto, il 27, siamo nel cuore del Cilento a Castellabate, nel cortile interno del Castello Medioevale.
Ad There is a welcome relaxing music and torches to illuminate this starry night. We note with pleasure that there is no stage, the set consists of a bed, two wings and a blue light curtains, white, almost transparent, which moves in the wind.
We stand between the chairs placed in a semicircle to watch the play "Federico II of Gentle Wind" directed by Antonello Santarelli with the Theatre Company and Zeta Manuel Morgan, who also wrote the text.
come to mind the verses of Dante's Paradise:
"That's the light of the great Constance
that the second wind of Soave
begat the third and the last might. "
with reference to the fact that Frederick was il terzo ed ultimo imperatore svevo.
Lo spettacolo si svolge nell’ambito della Manifestazione “Suoni & Voci Mediterranei”, che è giunta alla sua quarta edizione.
La visione è gratuita ed ha l’alto patrocinio del Ministero dei Beni Culturali settore Spettacolo.
Il padrone dello spettacolo, al nostro arrivo, è il vento caldo, che scompiglia i lunghi tendaggi bianchi e, per dispetto, spegne alcune torce. Questo rende tutto suggestivo. Il buio non c’è: è rischiarato dalle stelle, e dalla sfera perfetta di una luna bassa, che di là del perimetro del castello, biancheggia nel cielo, nascondendosi al nostro sguardo.
Al nostro arrivo, verso le 21: 30, there are few people, then gradually, distinguished audience sits silent on the semicircle of chairs.
beginning of the show, shortly after 22:00, the courtyard is full, someone will stand during the show.
In light of the full moon, before the start of the show, we see that there are no microphones on stage and we like that too.
lights, now extinct, two are mounted on high pedestals and their impact on the scene is discreet. To delimit the stage there are candles that the wind off.
The show begins: a young woman, illuminated by white light, invites us to turn off cell phones and to respect the silence as much as possible, because the actors not be amplified.
Incense, candles and clothes monks wander into a darkened stage. The music quality is excellent. The movement, made unclear by the poor lighting, are very attractive.
The show takes its rhythm and stage alternating five players: some play multiple roles, others interpret a single character.
We were expecting a show and witness a historic love story rather classic cut.
The plot of the show tells of the love conflict between Frederick and Bianca Lancia.
According to legend, which was handed down from father Bonaventure Lama and recovery from the historic Pantaleo, during pregnancy, Bianca, Federico la tenne rinchiusa in una torre del castello di Gioia del Colle, perché la credeva adultera. La Principessa non poté resistere all’umiliazione; vinta dal dolore, si tagliò i seni e li inviò all’imperatore su di un vassoio d’argento assieme al neonato. Federico la raggiunse e la trovò moribonda. La donna gli chiese allora di legittimare il figlio, Manfredi, e di sposarla e ciò avvenne in punto di morte.
L’uomo che avrebbe amato Bianca Lancia era Pier delle Vigne.
Una storia a tre: lui, lei, l’altro.
Forse Federico II, lo"Stupor Mundi", avrebbe meritato di più.
Lo spettacolo ci riempie di belle musiche, giochi semplici ed efficaci di luci, ben studiate, che create beautiful images, almost painterly paintings, beautiful voices and live recordings, performed masterfully, give us a nice evening. A big applause goes to the audio-lighting service, whose skill was necessary to the success of the show. The clothes are taken care of, some images are made skilful use of spectral curtains, which become the dominant element of the scene. The wind continues to play with the draperies, making a great service to the success of the show. We expected the beautiful Morgan
a bare back and we have had, as always, this time was well lit and bathed in a basin for the weekly bath Emperor, barely concealed by curtains, the wind raised lenient.
Bravissimo the actor who played the jester, to whom, unfortunately, the time to say goodbye, it was not done with the other name and that was not presented to an attentive and discreet.
Milena Esposito.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Round Ollhouse Windows
Saturnia but
Saturnia at night with a large moving the air and slammed the flickering flame of my torch.
On the chest you open up and then die, after taking my pulse, after it stopped, after removing the space to the moon indecent. 
Saturnia at night with a large moving the air and slammed the flickering flame of my torch.
On the chest you open up and then die, after taking my pulse, after it stopped, after removing the space to the moon indecent.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Honda Civic License Plate Frame Brackets
Moleskine
A puff of steam fluttering orange in the sunset.
Two butterflies, back and forth, chasing each other, maintain the same distance going away. 
A puff of steam fluttering orange in the sunset.
Two butterflies, back and forth, chasing each other, maintain the same distance going away.
Friday, August 10, 2007
Tiered Skirt Pattern For 2010
go 'and presses? Color
was with the rise of a new horizon that sank the firm idea of \u200b\u200ba world that stood still, without turning into a ball, because then, if you run, the balls are big trouble. Dante had been put on a pedestal and all they could, from below, admire a lot better. This
Stilnovo, then over time was also in vogue with the cubist discos, real landfill ear trumpet of the twentieth century, a real boon to the otolaryngologist, such as low waist pants for urologists. But what resolved the fate of the dermatologists were, above all doubt, tattoos and piercings. If we step back and turn right, then onto the main road, we definitely see that la terra è rotonda, senza accanirci con l’ANAS, che cerca di rendere un servizio che ci va a quel servizio e brucia un po’. Da lì, quando non c’è traffico, si può fare anche la considerazione “eppur si muove”, sempre che la macchina non ci lasci per strada. E che a piedi il mondo ci sembra diverso.
E che alla fine del mondo ci fosse un nuovo continente non è una novità, ma che Bramante, pur bramando, non vi era mai stato, forse fa la differenza, come fa capire chi è veramente sulla rotta delle Indie, anche perché chi l’ha rotta? Se la rotta è rotta, è inutile prendersela col vicino di casa, che magari ha i suoi problemi con Lutero, che inventava un Nuovo Testamento and indeed continued to protest even sending him to hell. But it is a bit 'indulgent indulgences! Then seem to me an excuse these protests.
Some have loans and who is to lend his wife of his friend. Then finish this with this story of friendship! I do not you come and say that there is much difference between the course and the uterus: it's only a matter of addressing the problems in depth. I feel a little 'pressured lately. Maybe it was the Gutenberg press in Nuremberg, but having all those characters and not a single character, with all that happens, it takes character to imprint an indelible mark. Indelible then on paper. Oh yes is easy to say on paper, we need to see in practice. In practice, the period I'm going through, leads me to regard with suspicion a piece of cheese and insistently ask you are neither fish nor fowl, but then who are you?
What I'm going through a period sometimes on foot, sometimes by car or train, I do not get you anywhere. His part as well, that man, Christ, I think it's called Christ, named Pigeon, no, Palumbo, but no ... I have at your fingertips ... ah yes, Cornacchia, Crow Christ. What should have been given the name to America, but instead thought of going to India. To go around the world, if it is just round Ciack, turn! A story of the world. If America had called Cornacchiola Scornacchiati and if all they had invaded the world and broke the balls the entire universe, would have been a different story.
a different story. What then, who invented the phone?
know better what they invented the telephone, which also is ancient history. The new history is not history yet, nor the laws on the books of text, that text did not ever. You do not do text text!
read, study, but we think? To be without press? And I feel much less pressured about how I feel. A life without presses. 
was with the rise of a new horizon that sank the firm idea of \u200b\u200ba world that stood still, without turning into a ball, because then, if you run, the balls are big trouble. Dante had been put on a pedestal and all they could, from below, admire a lot better. This
Stilnovo, then over time was also in vogue with the cubist discos, real landfill ear trumpet of the twentieth century, a real boon to the otolaryngologist, such as low waist pants for urologists. But what resolved the fate of the dermatologists were, above all doubt, tattoos and piercings. If we step back and turn right, then onto the main road, we definitely see that la terra è rotonda, senza accanirci con l’ANAS, che cerca di rendere un servizio che ci va a quel servizio e brucia un po’. Da lì, quando non c’è traffico, si può fare anche la considerazione “eppur si muove”, sempre che la macchina non ci lasci per strada. E che a piedi il mondo ci sembra diverso.
E che alla fine del mondo ci fosse un nuovo continente non è una novità, ma che Bramante, pur bramando, non vi era mai stato, forse fa la differenza, come fa capire chi è veramente sulla rotta delle Indie, anche perché chi l’ha rotta? Se la rotta è rotta, è inutile prendersela col vicino di casa, che magari ha i suoi problemi con Lutero, che inventava un Nuovo Testamento and indeed continued to protest even sending him to hell. But it is a bit 'indulgent indulgences! Then seem to me an excuse these protests.
Some have loans and who is to lend his wife of his friend. Then finish this with this story of friendship! I do not you come and say that there is much difference between the course and the uterus: it's only a matter of addressing the problems in depth. I feel a little 'pressured lately. Maybe it was the Gutenberg press in Nuremberg, but having all those characters and not a single character, with all that happens, it takes character to imprint an indelible mark. Indelible then on paper. Oh yes is easy to say on paper, we need to see in practice. In practice, the period I'm going through, leads me to regard with suspicion a piece of cheese and insistently ask you are neither fish nor fowl, but then who are you?
What I'm going through a period sometimes on foot, sometimes by car or train, I do not get you anywhere. His part as well, that man, Christ, I think it's called Christ, named Pigeon, no, Palumbo, but no ... I have at your fingertips ... ah yes, Cornacchia, Crow Christ. What should have been given the name to America, but instead thought of going to India. To go around the world, if it is just round Ciack, turn! A story of the world. If America had called Cornacchiola Scornacchiati and if all they had invaded the world and broke the balls the entire universe, would have been a different story.
a different story. What then, who invented the phone?
know better what they invented the telephone, which also is ancient history. The new history is not history yet, nor the laws on the books of text, that text did not ever. You do not do text text!
read, study, but we think? To be without press? And I feel much less pressured about how I feel. A life without presses.
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Is It Hard To Get Into The French Culinary
talcum powder
When women, the only mothers, go to sleep, must have the courage to stand in the shutters on the dreams of their children. Meanwhile, the fluffy clouds driven by the breeze that blows at night to the land from the sea, go to heaven, silent, different from each other by thousands. The shine from the moon, they become milk and turn into dreams. Wandering ghosts in the sky like the laundry on the rope dropped, forgotten in the night. Ghosts are good: to soothe. The kids, including pillows and blankets, sleeping in a nest prepared by the mother or the person who loves them and with closed eyes you can imagine the silent walk.
For every cloud, it took a billion centuries of work and time was never better spent! A small colored talcum powder appears to Julius, who do not know who is sleeping. One has the donut-shaped and smells of cotton candy and is coming for him, the sweetest child in the country, my son. I see a slender feather-shaped, lying like a mermaid by the sea, shine and brush his hair long and red, beautiful, sees in a dream, a child who is now crying. The cloud is perforated like lace for the little Joseph, the blue cloud to Martina, the little cloud to Stefania and soap bubbles for the children of the baker, everyone is asleep. But I can not wait for the big ones for the moms and dads and the schoolteacher and the doctor to the uncle and the pork and all those who've forgotten to dream. They
with narrow eyes, lying in odd poses and dirty, plugged in the smell of the rooms, the wonderful disdain. In the head are the thoughts of the problems and money and taxes and politics and malice. Even the mothers and fathers, poor dear ... But sometimes, a cloud silver and gold, run by the dream of lighting up the rooms small and vague, and perfuming the air with sugar, cinnamon and caramel powder and talcum powder and also the largest in the morning have a bit of blessed memory of childhood. 
When women, the only mothers, go to sleep, must have the courage to stand in the shutters on the dreams of their children. Meanwhile, the fluffy clouds driven by the breeze that blows at night to the land from the sea, go to heaven, silent, different from each other by thousands. The shine from the moon, they become milk and turn into dreams. Wandering ghosts in the sky like the laundry on the rope dropped, forgotten in the night. Ghosts are good: to soothe. The kids, including pillows and blankets, sleeping in a nest prepared by the mother or the person who loves them and with closed eyes you can imagine the silent walk.
For every cloud, it took a billion centuries of work and time was never better spent! A small colored talcum powder appears to Julius, who do not know who is sleeping. One has the donut-shaped and smells of cotton candy and is coming for him, the sweetest child in the country, my son. I see a slender feather-shaped, lying like a mermaid by the sea, shine and brush his hair long and red, beautiful, sees in a dream, a child who is now crying. The cloud is perforated like lace for the little Joseph, the blue cloud to Martina, the little cloud to Stefania and soap bubbles for the children of the baker, everyone is asleep. But I can not wait for the big ones for the moms and dads and the schoolteacher and the doctor to the uncle and the pork and all those who've forgotten to dream. They
with narrow eyes, lying in odd poses and dirty, plugged in the smell of the rooms, the wonderful disdain. In the head are the thoughts of the problems and money and taxes and politics and malice. Even the mothers and fathers, poor dear ... But sometimes, a cloud silver and gold, run by the dream of lighting up the rooms small and vague, and perfuming the air with sugar, cinnamon and caramel powder and talcum powder and also the largest in the morning have a bit of blessed memory of childhood.
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