Fingernail Polish Poems

Crossing illusory

Are Eggs Required For Salmon Croquettes

Turizombies

Dear friend,

tell me that you'd like to spend a holiday in my part? Well! Why not!

My city, Lecce , has a beautiful old town and the surroundings are exceptional, especially along the coast.

prefer not to recommend a route nor be your guide.

admit that I would not be able to.

And then, this land has no head or tail and disorderly should be discovered, as it is!

I could take away the fun of it from you?

Avoid buying a guide book.

you need is a road map, the desire to cibarti with taste and curiosity, to move from coast to coast and if you're in town, often to look up, where the lines of the old buildings create an illusion, but beautiful crosses in the background of blue sky.

Test. You'll find the effects ... unpublished !

But brotherly advice do I have to give. Come out of season. Or rather, come in one of the best seasons: late spring or late summer. Avoid the "tourist season".

If you want to enjoy the show, when do " the room is half empty" in the company of educated and sensitive people like you.

Settembrina Enjoy the coast. In a day you can swim in dozens of different places, the water is always clear and fresh.

will understand what is really the sea, her perfume, her character, if you take a leap in the late afternoon before the aperitif, when the sun is setting and there is no one.

not forget that this sea is loneliness. The most beautiful solitude.

And not despise the small villages and unknown. Sometimes the discovery of a cave church, of its peaceful isolation in the midst of the thorns or near the trees, you can wake up in new and genuine feelings.

Do not worry, eat well, especially if it is not Saturday night. Try the local food on several occasions, and red wine. I would say a good Primitivo. Will warm the soul.

Ah, sorry if I expressed myself ambiguously.

time ago, when I spoke of my "non-democratic vision of beauty ," I meant that in my local beauty should be first by and for the benefit of the resident populations.
The massification of tourism will also " democratic", but it is profoundly destructive, especially if the proceeds are not spent for the benefit of all.

So tell me, of democracy that we if speaking is not for everyone?

It is proof that small town, potentially beautiful, which in late summer (but, alas, at the end of each "event" of the weekend), is reduced to public urinal, and while a few rubbing legitimately hands, happy to have done their business, the bulk of citizenship, the true master of the house , who gains?

we surrender our city (including environs) to the barbarian hordes of zombies tourism, in exchange for traffic pollution, noise, limitations in the free movement, raising prices ...

For this reason, I suggest, also stay away from mega concertone faux-traditional music ... from dancing to stupid ... the pseudo-country fairs all the same.

Search silence, even if there is, in some corner escaped the chaos of modern times.
And if you find one, let me know.

I'll be there in a moment.

Vanity Plate Harry Potter

Chapter 4 - Epilogue

He stood on the driveway. The air outside was completely changed. No longer fresh nor clear. A kind of widespread haze made it even more surreal landscape that increasingly absurdly quiet.

He realized that there was no breeze, no birds in flight, no yelps of dogs in the country. None. No damn noise.

Indeed yes.

Now.

A dark and distant sound. Then again that damned ringing through your ears. Instinctively took his head in his hands. The near Fort ears.

The buzz grew, along with the pain. She could not stand.

Fatigue was calling him to surrender, taking over his will.

suddenly had to look up. Eyes wide, mouth hanging open. Flickers like a big colored LEDs were made off through the dense mist, showing a kind of twisting motion that the hypnotized. A beam

cylindrical light from above, suddenly struck him. He did not move. Could neither wanted to move anymore.

Fermo, straight back with your arms hanging at your sides and expected liabilities. Then

levitated. Slowly. Inexorably. Without reacting.

was sucked through the beam towards the circle of flashing lights that marked the dark opening round. It seemed the entrance to a huge, monstrous, alien means of transport. It was gobbled up while the opening is closed under his feet.

He found himself in the belly of the gigantic spaceship horrible, made of sheet copper. He heard a rattle

left. He felt a thrill of infinite terror behind his back, despite the sweltering heat. He knew he could not do anything. They do not want to do anything.

Then he saw.

saw the wire ropes. Hundreds of shrieking metal cables that fuoriscivano walls.

And the helpless bodies. Hundreds of bodies of unarmed civilians. Standing, sitting, lying.

bodies of flesh and metal.

of metal and flesh.
He tried to smile. It was invaded by a kind of peaceful bitterness.

He understood at that time, he was not going again.

He was, simply , succeeding.

= END =

Milena Velba Milking A Dog

got off the bus. The rain had stopped and the air smelled of wet earth. The sky, swept by a pleasant breeze, it was finally clear. He crossed the quiet street and walked up a path between fields. Half an hour later he saw the sloping roof of his old house.
He felt uneasy. That meeting him intimidating. After years of silence he felt he had lost the right to define child. But that emotion was disturbed by many other fears. Deep
and unspeakable. On
driveway admired the gray area created by artfully pruned trees, perfectly in line with the side fences. She knocked timidly. Then again. Maybe they slept. He tried to turn the handle the main entrance. No resistance. It was open.
entered cautiously. He did not want to scare them. The decor had not changed much. Minimal and elegant.
Too quiet.
He went upstairs. None.
beds intact. Everything perfectly into place. His parents had never been the kind of people who spend the night outside the home. After all that time must have changed habits.
I hope so.
decided to clear his head with a shower. Resisted the temptation to wait for sleeping.
was tired of nightmares.
was weak. He had stomach cramps. A slight but prolonged dizziness convinced him to take to the kitchen and eat something. Milk, biscuits, jam, sitting at table of his childhood.
began to show signs of impatience. The wait
exhaustion. The
hurt his head again. On the phone, but there was no signal. She turned on the TV, which was just across the table. Nothing. The screen only annoying static electricity.
head gave him no respite.
He got up, drank a few sips of water directly from the tap. Then that buzz again
unbearable in his ears.
Basta. He was exhausted. He could not think. Nor to keep calm.
went out slamming the door, determined to do something. Whatever.
His eyes of a madman.

Lost My Digital Copy File

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 1

In Airport mingled among the people. He tried more crowded for the room to remain unseen. Ate sitting at. Then he drank a cup of coffee too bitter, sipping a long time. He paid in cash, ignoring the sly smile of a waitress. He went without haste.
The bus station was very close. He went up, the driver paid the ticket and sat near the window in one of the files behind. In head heaps of unresolved thoughts.
was tempted to call his family. Seeing him after all this time would upset them. It was certain.
The bus left reeling. Did not notice either.
Turn the phone would be risky. And then it was obvious that his would have asked too many questions. Forget it. Prudence prevailed.
began to rain. Little, but with insistence. The blurred lights of oncoming cars pierced the windows wet, radiating sprawl.
The intensity of thought led him to nod off.
The air grew heavy. There was a bad smell. Every now and then a hum noise penetrated the head from ear to ear. He felt discomfort.
A cough. Then another. He felt a warmth
slimy creep down my spine. He realized he could no longer move her head or open his eyes.
Again the buzz. From side to side. He felt suffocated. The arms, legs, hands, wrapped in moist heat that is unnatural and numbness. She decided to scream. The lips, glued to each other, then drowned in a desperate attempt to rattle grotesque.
Then he saw it. He saw himself become one with the horrible seat. The walls of the bus became a hot plate.
dry cough. Sweat. Fuoriscivano screeching metal cables from the walls.
pain. Intense. Cables, metal, harpooned the flesh. His.
meat and metal. Metal and flesh. The sharp slowdown
woke him up.
again.
It happened again.
always the case.

Sayings About Experience

went up the first available flight, with less of the essential in a small backpack, directed towards a non-goal in which to disappear.

He stopped feeling

observed only when he felt the pressure off the stomach. Then he fell asleep. Neither hunger nor thirst, nor the flight attendants managed to wake him.

In sleep he saw objects darting fire in a sky of copper and lead, and lived a meaningless run in the paths of a rough wood overwhelming. He heard his own grief when the race was changed in a frenzied pace forced and unnatural, as if the muscles of rubber.

His eyes filled with panic, look at her legs slowly sinking into the ground who became a dense mass of mud and hungry. The tendons were stretched in a futile effort.

muffled sound, more dark than light, glare sudden but brief.

The plane landed with a bang. It was a violent awakening, without relief. He felt the sweat irritate the face and the other passengers shouting excited and tired. A sharp pain in my stomach, empty and in turmoil.

yet nightmares, nightmares ever.

He opened his eyes only when the speakers caw formulas rite.