Sunday, October 28, 2007

Ebay.de Littlest Pet Shop

Snow.


Laura speaks. In a flash before my eyes, you open the gray of a newspaper page. The roar of the paper is crumpled rubs, it seems the wind: the photos that do not want to get away from my eyes and the rolling silent echo of the words are engraved in me.

They come from far away.

Black and White. Eco. Stretch the words on paper, that squeaks under your hands.

life takes away the colors ... white and black and deafen remain silent.

she says. We are almost in the dark and we are sitting on the ground, feel the cold in the ass in his pants. Listening. Were his first words to reopen the newspaper that now flutters over the heads. Inside the mine, I feel like beating you to scare puppies who pee everywhere.

"nell''80 \u200b\u200bIn Naples, there was snow."

If only he knew Laura cosa sto pensando.

“Avevo cinque anni e non avevo mai visto la neve!”

Un brivido mi scuote la schiena e la pelle s’inturgidisce sul mio petto.

Ma Laura non lo può sapere…aveva cinque anni e c’era la neve.

La neve copre i colori.

Laura cambia il tono della voice, now has five years really.

"I had never seen anything so beautiful: snow! It was soft and white was great and I could play. "

I see her run on the mantle of cotton wool and tumble and run and play and scream.

see her? Hear.

" had covered everything. The snow. I started to make snowballs and then again and again until I realized that they would loose all. Then my hands began to make a ball much better the other: a round ball as the world, a magic ball as soap bubbles. A ball is white and soft, I could keep forever. Forever. Forever. "

The expression on his face changes: widening a smile and eyes seem oblique pins.

" It seemed to me the greatest discovery of the world and I dragged a chair to the fridge and I climbed to open the freezer: my ball was safe now."

I feel freezer door slamming ... and boom!

Between breaks suo parlare riascolto il metallo della voce che mi feriva dalla televisione, rivedo la neve…Pertini, le cosce dei morti che sbucano dalle coperte e non so se le immagini fossero in bianco e nero o a colori: c’era la neve. Sopra ogni cosa. Sopra i container e sulle baracche e sulle case spaccate. E c’era una tenda di una cucina che rimaneva appesa al balcone, ma non c’era più la cucina e non c’era più la casa e non c’era…c’era la neve.

I fiori sopra quel balcone sono appassiti e bruciati dal gelo: è la foto, la foto senza i colori dei fiori, la foto in bianco e nero sbiadita tra il piombo del giornale e le mie dita macchiate di nero, le mie dita bianche.

Laura continua il suo racconto. Alle sue spalle c’è una lampada rotonda come una palla di neve. La luce viene dal basso ed è calda, pare una stufa alogena.

Vorrei allungare le mie braccia per sentire il caldo sul nudo delle mani, ma resto ferma nelle sue parole.

Le dice di un fiato. Poi resta in silenzio. Risento la neve.

Il silenzio della neve è diverso…

La luce che vedo è quella di un neon. Un uomo apre il freezer. Plok! Prende la palla di neve e la fa scongelare sul lavello d’acciaio.

Gocciola.

Davanti agli occhi di Laura, la palla diventa acqua, diventa nulla.

“Ne ho sofferto tanto.”

Laura termina il suo racconto: “Quell’uomo era mio padre!”

“Papà!...la neve non c’è più…papà…”

Gocciola.

Me la ricordo quella neve: era sporca di sangue, era la tomba dei morti sepolti, dei morti sepolti sotto la neve, sotto le macerie delle case.

Di quei morti che appestavano le strade squassate dal terremoto.

La neve era sporca…

La neve ha ucciso uomini e uomini e donne e corpi mutilati e informi e bambini nelle culle e nelle braccia prive di vita delle mamme e dei papà, la neve ne ha uccisi più del terremoto.

Vorrei poterlo dire a Laura e forse la consolerebbe un po’…ma non si possono asciugare le lacrime quando sono di neve.

Monday, October 8, 2007

Wards Ap Biology Lab 3 Answers

a glove


Un guanto precipitò da una mano desiderata
a toccare il pavimento del mondo in una pista affollata.
Un gentiluomo, an infidel followed him with his eyes.
and was about to reach it, but already too late,
and was about to reach it, but too late.
the hand was gone and the whole company
and who knows if he ever existed.
that hand was missing and remained
the nostalgia and the glove and his mistress
slipped away and the glove and his mistress skated on.
under a tree without flowers pined love loved.
The glove was a few steps away, unreachable and consumed.
In the great storm of grass, it was not summer, nor spring.
And not even seem to fall but the winter did not exist.
And not even seem to fall because winter is not exist.
When a man from a small boat with a boat hook
saw something whiteness.
A man from a small boat, leaning over the sea:
the glove was in danger of drowning,
the glove was in danger of sinking. It was a triumph of
conghiglie, a floral tribute to the glove
returned to the banality of hearts,
to a beach without sand, a passion
glimpsed a cage without a key to a room without a view, in a cage without
key to a life without sight. Meanwhile
million roses are retracted on the shore.
And who knows if you can understand. What
million roses do not smell if they are not mica
your flowers to bloom,
se i tuoi occhi non mi fanno più dormire.


Era la notte di quel brutto giorno, i guanti erano sconfinati,
come l'incubo di un assassino o i desideri dei condannati.
Dietro al guanto maggiore la luna era crescente
e piccoli guanti risalivano la corrente
e piccoli guanti risalivano la corrente.
Fino al Capo dei sogni e alla riva
del letto dell'innocente che dormiva.
Un mostro sconosciuto osservava non osservato
sopra a un tavolo il guanto incriminato
sopra al tavolo un guanto immacolato.


E il guanto fu rapito in una notte d'inchiostro
da quel mistero chiamato amore
da quell'amore che sembrava un mostro.
Inutilmente due nude mani si protesero to restrain him.
The glove had been hidden where nobody can see it, the glove
was already far more than anyone can know.
Besides the ice rink and the passions of a day of celebration
and the waves of the seas.
and triumph in the storm and roses into the foam.
The glove had flown higher than the moon. The glove was flown
lighter than a feather.


addition to action and the place and time provided
and love and his penis.
The gloves had already been laid in that picture where infinite
Psyche and Cupid govern together
where Psyche and Cupid smiling together.

Friday, October 5, 2007

8 Ball Leather Jacket Sale

Strawberry



Corbezzola

La prima impressione che si ha di Corbezzola è quella di una tavolozza di un pittore. Ma una tavolozza servita per dipingere un quadro d’autunno e quindi sporca di giallo, di arancione e di verde marcio o di salvia e di ocra e di dorato e di rosso.

La prima volta ci arrivai che pioveva. La pioggia rendeva tutto diverso.

Il rosso e il giallo erano liquidi. La città appariva sospesa su una coppa d’acqua e lì si rifletteva.

Ogni cosa era il suo doppio e le case a grappoli si potevano rimirare nel bagliore della pozza mai ferma per il cadere delle gocce.

Il ticchettio rendeva tutto allegro e dalle case i più piccoli uscivano utilizzando grandi passerelle a forma di lanceolate foglie.

Tutti i bambini portavano lunghe tuniche a corolla gonfie come palloncini. Scendendo si macchiavano gli abiti vaporosi e bianchi, ricchi di balze e di pizzi.

Sugli usci delle case le mamme restavano a guardare.

Loro erano abbottonate in abiti simili a quelli dei figli, ma di una tinta crema ed avevano il viso rosso e paffuto.

Le mamme di Corbezzola erano famose nel Cilento per l’indulgenza e la dolcezza.

Le case, vi dicevo, erano appese al verde e avevano per malta quel colore rosso-arancio the robes of Buddhist monks.

The plasters were rough, thick-grained double.

whole town of Strawberry covered a huge territory, so that it can establish the capital of the Cilento.

to climb hills and fell into ravines. Solofrone came down to the river, bordered on Cicero is to lead, flanked Fennel, Ogliastro, Inherit.

The city was overflown by large leaves, in fact, I would say that Strawberry was immersed in a forest.

lies along major roads only uphill or upstream.

At that giorno di pioggia lo spettacolo era inusuale.

I bambini, dicevo, scendevano verso l’acqua e lì si rimiravano dalle barche a forma di foglie.

La cosa era che per ogni immagine di bimbo corrispondeva una cosa diversa dal sé.

Questo, certo, può apparire ben strano, ma in realtà era davvero attraente.

Le mamme dall’alto delle loro case, chi alla porta, chi affacciata alla finestra o al balcone, seguivano con attenzione l’immagine riflessa dei propri figli.

Se il bimbo era magro appariva, sì, magro, ma diverso, se era alto poteva restar alto o diventarlo even more, but that image makes the crooked face or eyes, or smile.

then changed the colors in the reflection of those little characters, hair colors ol'iride ol'incarnato eye skin.

One thing was certain: the little ones, like the metamorphosis.

I want to be the case. Repeated the other.

I like this face here! Shouted from the bottom of the mothers and the mothers were smiling.

To look best protruded above the water and approached il viso il più possibile.

Dall’alto le mamme chiacchieravano tra loro beatamente.

Poi, d’improvviso, la pioggia finì.

Le nubi furono spazzate via e…l’arcobaleno fece la sua comparsa.

Allora davvero a Corbezzola si fece festa!

Prima che l’acqua s’asciugasse, ogni bimbo rubò al proprio riflesso la nuova immagine di sè e dalle case le mamme scesero a dorso dell’arcobaleno, ruzzolando con le gambe all’aria e col viso ancora più rosso. Tutti gli uomini tornarono dal bosco portando selvaggina o funghi o fiori.

Ogni casa gialla diventò rossa e le rosse marroni e le marroni caddero dall’alto provocando gran tonfi e gran risate e tutti insieme si misero a pigiar quelle palle brune e ne ricavarono un vino profumato e forte e brindarono, brindarono fino alla notte.

In realtà siccome con la pioggia la città aveva nell’acqua il suo duplicato, le case che s’erano trasformate in vino, non so bene, se proprio per effetto del veder doppio che il vino dà, erano ancora lì, penzolanti nel buio con le luci accese e le porte aperte.

Gli uomini, le donne, i bambini, cantando, risalivano lenti utilizzando le grandi strade.

E le mamme ed i papà portavano a casa i bambini diversi, ma no longer as they are processed by our they grow up.

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

Does You Need Mirrors On A Moped

MOON AND GNAC Italo Calvino


From the novel "Marcovaldo" by Italo Calvino.
I want to keep it on my blog like flowers in a vase.


The night lasted twenty seconds, and twenty seconds the GNAC. For twenty seconds you could see the blue sky of variegated dark clouds, the golden crescent of the Crescent Moon, highlighted by an impalpable aura, and then the stars that looked over the more pungent thickened their smallness, until the dusting of the Milky Way, everything This hastily written, every detail on which we stopped was something of all that was lost, because twenty seconds and ended immediately began the GNAC. The GNAC
was a part of writing advertising SPAAK COGNAC-facing roof, which was twenty seconds and twenty turned off, and when it was on you could not see anything else. The moon faded and the sky suddenly became uniformly flat black, the stars lost their sparkle, and cats and cats that ten-second launch howled languid love moving towards each other along the eaves and cornices, now, with GNAC, crouched on the roof sleeping upright in glowing neon light.
Overlooking the attic where he lived, the family of Marcovaldo was crossed by opposing currents of thought. There was the night Isolina, who was now a big girl, she was transported to the moonlight, her heart was dying, and to the more muted croak of radio from the lower floors of the building came as the toll of a serenade, was the GNAC and the radio seemed to seize another rhythm, a rhythm
jazz, and Isolina thought of dancing lights and all you poor thing up there alone.
Pietruccio Michelino and stared into the night and let ourselves be overcome by a warm, soft fear of being surrounded by forests full of robbers, then, the GNAC! and snapped with the thumbs and index theory, one against the other: - Hands up! Nimbus are Kid! - Domitilla, mother, go out to each of notte pensava: “Ora i ragazzi bisogna ritirarli, quest’aria può far male. E Isolina affacciata a quest’ora è una cosa che non va!” Ma tutto poi era di nuovo luminoso, elettrico, fuori come dentro, e Domitilla si sentiva come in visita in una casa di riguardo.
Fiordaligi, invece, giovinotto malinconico, vedeva ogni volta che si spegneva il GNAC apparire dentro la voluta del “gi” la finestra appena illuminata d’un abbaino, e dietro il vetro un viso di ragazza color di Luna, color di neon, color di luce nella notte, una bocca ancor quasi da bambina che appena lui le sorrideva si schiudeva impercettibilmente e già pareva aprirsi in un sorriso, quando tutt’un tratto dal buio risaettava out of the ruthless "gi" the GNAC and face losing the edges, was transformed into a light shadow flakes, and mouth girl no longer knew whether he had responded to his sorriso.In midst of this storm of passion, Marcovaldo chased ' teach the children the position of celestial bodies.
- What is the Big Dipper, one two three four and there the helm, that is the Little Dipper, and Polaris marks the north.
- And that, what marks?
- That marks "us". But it has nothing to do with the stars. It is the last letter of the word COGNAC. The stars instead mark the cardinal points. North South East West. The Moon has a hump in the west. Gibbous, Crescent moon. Hump \u200b\u200bto the east, Moonset.
- Dad, then the cognac is flat? The east has the hump!
- not about growing or declining: it is a sign placed there by Spaak.
- And the Moon that the company has made?
- The Moon has not made a firm. It is a satellite, there is always.
- If there forever, because it changes the hump?
- I quarters. He sees only a piece.
- COGNAC Even if they only see one piece.
- Why is the roof of the building Pierbernardi that is higher.
- The higher the moon?
So at every turn on the GNAC, the stars of Marcovaldo going to be confused with land trades and turned a sigh Isolina nell'ansimare of a mambo hummed, and the girl dell'abbaino disappeared into the ring beam and cold, hiding his response Fiordaligi the kiss that had finally had the courage to send her fingertips, and Michelino Filippetto and played with his fists before his face to the strafing aircraft - Ta-ta-ta-ta ... - against the neon, that after twenty seconds was extinguished.
- Ta-ta-ta ... Have you seen my father, who turned it off with a single burst? - Filio said, but already out of the neon light, his fanaticism warrior was gone and his eyes were filled with sleep.
- Maybe! - Said he fled to his father - went to pieces! We'd see the Lion, the Twins ... - The Lion! - Michelin was seized with enthusiasm. - Wait! - He had an idea. He took the sling, the Office of the gravel which always had a reserve in his pocket and fired a hail of stones with all their might against the "GNAC".
He felt the hail fall on the roof tiles littered the front, on the plates of the gutter, the clink of glasses of a window, hit, beat the gong of a pebble down the bowl of a lantern, a voice in the street. But the message light on your time off the shot he had at the end of his twenty secondi.E all in the attic began to mentally count: one two three, ten eleven to twenty. They counted nineteen, drew his breath, counted twenty, twenty-one twenty-two counted for fear that he had counted too fast, but no, nothing, "GNAC" does not restore power, remained a black braided decipherable scrawl evil to his castle of support as the vine the pergola.
- Aaah! - Cried all the hood of infinitely starry sky got up on them.
Marcovaldo, stopped to slap the raised hand that he wanted to give to Michelin, he felt as projected into space. The darkness that now reigns at the roof was like a dark barrier that excluded the world where there were still whirling hieroglyphs yellow, green and red traffic lights and twinkling eyes, and bright sail empty trams, cars and invisible push ahead the cone of light of the lanterns. From this world did not rise above that widespread phosphorescence, wanders like a smoke. And to raise our eyes no longer dazzled, it opened the prospect of space, the constellations dilated in depth, the dome rotated in every direction, the sphere that contains everything and does not contain any limit, and only one of its vacant plot, as a breach, opened to Venus, for make it stand alone, above the frame of the earth, with its firm stab of light exploded and concentrated in one spot. Suspended in the sky, the new moon rather than flaunt the appearance abstract Crescent revealed its nature as a sphere around the mat bias and illuminated rays of the sun from the earth lost, but while retaining - as can be seen only on certain nights of the first summer - the warm color.
Marcovaldo And look at that cut across narrow side of the moon between shadows and light, felt a longing to reach as miraculously remained a sunny beach in the night. So she stood by the attic, the children frightened by the enormous consequences of their act, as Isolina kidnapped in estasi, Fiordaligi che unico tra tutti scorgeva il fioco abbaino illuminato e finalmente il sorriso Lunare della ragazza. La mamma si riscosse: – Su, su, è notte, cosa fate affaticati? Vi prenderete un malanno, sotto questo chiaro di Luna! Michelino puntò la fionda in alto. – E io spengo la Luna! – Fu acciuffato e messo a letto.
Così per il resto di quella e per tutta la notte dopo, la scritta luminosa sul tetto di fronte diceva solo “SPAAK-CO” e della mansarda di Marcovaldo si vedeva il firmamento. Fiordaligi e la ragazza Lunare si mandavano baci sulle dita, e forse parlandosi alla muta sarebbero riusciti a fissare un appuntamento.
Ma la mattina del secondo giorno, sul tetto, tra i castelli stood out in neon slim slender figures of two electricians in overalls, who checked the tubes and wires. With the air of the old men who provide the local weather, Marcovaldo put his nose out and said
- Tonight will be another night of "GNAC".
Someone knocked on the attic. Opened. He was a man with glasses. - Excuse,
I could look from their window? Thank you, - and introduced himself:
- Dr. Godifredo, advertising agent
light.
"We're ruined! They want us to pay damages, "thought Marcovaldo and already ate with the children's eyes, oblivious of his astronomical abductions. "Now look at the window and realized that the stones may not have been drawn to this place." He tried to get my hands on: - You know, I'm young, so they pull, the sparrows, stones do not know I never went to fail the written Spaak. But I punished them, eh, if I punished them! And you can be sure that does not happen again.
Dr. Godifredo made a careful face.
- Actually I work for the "Cognac Tomawak," not the "Spaak". I came to study the possibility of a warranty claim on this bright roof. But tell me, tell me the same, I'm interested.
Marcovaldo Thus, half an hour later, concluded a contract with the "Cognac Tomawak, the main competitor of" Spaak ". The children had to pull the sling against GNAC each time the writing was reactivated.
- should be the straw that breaks the camel's back - the doctor said Godifredo.
was not mistaken: already on the brink of bankruptcy due to strong advertising expenses incurred, the "Spaak" saw the continued failure of its most beautiful light réclame as a bad omen. The message said that now
COGAC hours Conac hours CONC spread the idea among the creditors of a bankruptcy, at some point, the advertising agency refused to make any other repairs unless the arrears were paid; had written off the growing alarm among the creditors, the "Spaak" failed. In the sky
Marcovaldo tondeggiava the full moon in all its glory. It was the last quarter, when the electricians came back ramp on the roof opposite. And that night in letters of fire, and characters which are twice as thick as before, we read TOMAWAK COGNAC, COGNAC TOMAWAK, COGNAC TOMAWAK that light up and off every two seconds. The hardest hit of all was Fiordaligi; the garret of the Moon girl had disappeared behind a huge, impenetrable "vu" double.