Kates Playground Full Sets Blog

PROLOGUE

Today Rebecca was born.
I'm so excited, ecstatic, shocked, that every small gesture of my wife and child seem totally unrealistic. I look around and it is as if I was not really me to see, as if those were not my eyes or my hands, my legs. Never experienced such a feeling.
Now she exists, was made flesh and bones, I can smell, touch, hear people cry, look in every subtle change that will suffer every day. Not only is the fruit of our imagination or that swelling in the belly of shapeless Cristina. That image is no longer inanimate, that assembly in our minds with pieces selected at random or deliberately. Now we can keep her in his arms, look after her, feeding her, choose the best for her. We love it, in fact. Even
Cristina, my wife, has many plans for our little girl, just like me. We want the best, the best for her, we want everything to be perfect, so that life becomes easy for Rebecca, with less pain as possible, with less frustration as possible. We think about these things, we do not want to leave no stone unturned, to random for you. The bad influences of this world today are endless and we want to be careful, keep the small room in a safe, secure, where there are only good things and easily accessible.
I'll be a wise father. No escape me, I'm sure, because love is exactly that, and that's what I want for my daughter.



AFTERWARDS ... ..

's past the first month. We are tired: Rebecca has slept little and nothing at night, or at least, has always woken up several times. But my wife and I are happy to make sacrifices for her, tired of being in his place, to sing songs every time he opens his eyes. Because every time he opens his eyes must realize that his parents are real, and live to make things easier.
Last night made us worry: she woke up and began to cry even though we were there like every night, in front of her and beside her. We sang, the string, the cradle, but she just would not stop crying. I do not understand. We try to surround them with love and affection as much as possible, so I can not really understand why you have behaved well last night.
It's not that they have a fever? Oh, maybe you have a fever!
I got distracted. There. It was not a good father. I have not been realized. I had to clean the third time all things at home, the stroller, clothes. These microbes lurk everywhere and I got distracted. I do not know when, but it happened.
How to remedy this error?
Should I have a fever instead her ....

STILL AFTER ....

Rebecca continues to grow and we do not lose a moment to be with her. Cristina has just stopped working, I have reduced my working hours (I own a printing press with a few employees) and just run home to my ex-beloved child.
My wife is continuing to breastfeed and that I can be happy. So you could say that everything is perfect.
Yet the child cries more often. E 'agitated, seems to wriggle. So this makes me think that something is wrong inside her.
fever is not. So what will it be? Lately
'm protecting even more than usual, is beginning to crawl and then follow her everywhere and keeps it from getting hurt, getting dirty, getting too close to other children when we are at the park under the house.
I do not want to lose sight of anything, I must not fail.
I also try to carry it in places where the air is as clean as possible: we live in open country, I do not want to breathe the air of Rebecca in the city, so we decided not to. Yet this seems increasingly polluted sky, damn.
Sometimes I think if I could breathe for him ... ...

EVEN BETTER 'AFTER TIME ... ...

The pediatrician at the last meeting, has informed us that it is time to svezzare la bambina: cioè niente più latte dal seno materno, ma dovremmo introdurre pappe o cibo triturato.
Io non ho mai sopportato i pediatri: pensano di poter dare delle regole pre-confezionate, ma i bambini non sono tutti uguali. Chi può conoscere mia figlia meglio di me e mia moglie?

Avevo ragione: non era questo il momento di svezzare Rebecca.
Da quando le abbiamo introdotto questa nuova alimentazione ha cominciato ad avere dei piccoli disturbi di pancia, oltre al continuo piagnucolare.
Prima non era mai successo. Quindi adesso mi sembra di non capire più se sia colpa di qualche microbo o del cibo. Come posso controllare le cose in questo modo?
I bambini hanno bisogno di equilibrio, mia figlia soprattutto. So why make changes? It seemed, in fact, unnecessary and dangerous. Now I can not go back ...

EPILOGUE

It 's been some time and Rebecca continues to be restless. Indeed, it is more and more. Sometimes it seems to have the attacks of hysteria. But of course you can not use that word for a child so small.
So I decided to leave management in the printer so you can spend every moment of my day with her, never leave, never lose sight of. This can not do that well. And 'as if he felt completely monitored and you will not run any risk. It will calm down.
However we are increasingly convinced that the food gets hurt. We evaluated several solutions, but that there appeared to be more congenial and replace her in the least. Not being able to breathe or get sick for him in his place, I decided that at least I can eat it for him. In this way I will avoid stomach pains, colic, agitation and suffering. I'll be a good father as well.
We started a few days and things are looking a bit 'better, Rebecca continued to cry but after I got food for him calmed down and, incredibly, he falls asleep in his bed. It 's a bit thin, but this can not do that well, so should not submit to the great suffering of the diets.
I want to continue like that, I think it is the right way.
... ... ... ... ... ...
"Cristina, I am going to wake up this morning ... I wonder why Rebecca has not been felt yet, it is becoming a sleeper! Cristina ... ... ... the child does not wake up, not moving any more, why? What happened to you? Cristina does not move ... will cease to exist ... what could have happened?? "

Fondant Flowers Tulips

II - The Long Flight

I - II

Now, I say, it is one thing if you ate the night before heavy - then you deserve to have bad dreams and a restless night - it is one thing to have a nightmare so vivid and real that you do on the FIFA and you think everything is really happening .
I open my eyes. I expect to be in the safety of my bed, my room. The plane, the old, the syringe, the pheasant flying ... nothing but a bad dream.
I look around anxiously. Unfortunately, my fear is confirmed: as expected, are always by my side on the plane and the centuries-old a bit 'struck me watching with great interest.
"A good night's sleep, eh?"
What the fuck is going on?
"We there yet?"
"We do not. The journey is still long. He did. And 'here. Matter of minutes. "
" What? "
I acted in my place and I wonder if it is possible that the victim of an organization of Russian spies who kidnapped me in the air because he wants to steal the secret of eternal youth.
"Listen," I say impatiently, "what's wrong here? He saw what she did me the hostess? "
" That was necessary. It was for his own good. At the next communion antiphon not hear hardly anything. "
I am so thrilled that I have even more excitement I carry in during air travel. But then how long is this flight? I was going ... where was I going? I have a bit 'of confusion in the head, I do not understand anything.
"Excuse me, but where are we headed?"
The old woman laughs. It 's a laugh greasy taste. Apparently he made a joke really funny. I see the businessman close to holding back her laughter.
At that moment it happens again. The plane begins to plummet once again fell to the peak. We're crashing to earth at the speed of light, but the people around me do not bat an eye and smile. Then I realize that I'm not reacting at all. I strive to take looked worried and also try to open my mouth to scream, but I feel my lips stretch into a blissful smile and a great peace in my body winds. I must admit that I have never been better.
The plane settles down and everything seems back to normal.
"I told you it takes a little getting used to. The communion antiphons have a good time, no? "
" Madam, what he's talking about? "
The old woman nods for me to look outside. I reach over her head toward the window and then see them again. Will be ten or more. Completely surround the wings of the plane. They are birds that I saw before losing consciousness. They have a stocky body that looks like a cylinder almost perfect. The legs are those of a duck, but the head and neck are part of a pheasant. Plus they have huge wings flapping together as if they were to be synchronized to the second to allow the aircraft to fly.
"What animals are they?"
"Those are the idrofagiani."
This is too much. I throw a pinch as you do in the movies or cartoons to see if I'm dreaming. But I do not wake up. Whatever is going through is real.
I'm afraid to ask for further explanation. There is no need, because suddenly my neighbor's place seems to have a great desire to talk.
"are his pets. Are not cute? "
" His whom? "
" But the king falls. "
Well, now I have confirmation that the old lady is totally gone. What the hell is he saying?
And in that moment happens. Again, the plane seems to fall on deaf ears. I smile and placid appearance that the situation will stabilize again, but this time something new and unexpected happens.
aircraft lights go out, people around seem to be quiet, and in fact even I feel like a feeling of wellbeing. Then the door of the cockpit opens and He is there in all its horror.
I've always thought of as represented classical iconography. It is in fact proprio così: le corna taurine, gli zoccoli al posto dei piedi, le ali di pipistrello, il corpo completamente rosso e un vago di odore di zolfo che lo accompagna.
Lo chiamassero pure Re delle Cadute, ma io mi trovo davanti al Diavolo.




[continua...]

What Does A Mens Brazilian Look Like

I - The Long Flight

I - II

“Desidera qualcosa da bere, signore?”
Guardo l’hostess che mi fissa sorridente e mi chiedo come le persone possano solo pensare di mangiare o bere qualcosa quando si trovano inscatolate a trentamila metri da terra in un aereo.
Faccio segno di no con la testa fissando l’assistente di volo e rimango ipnotizzato dall’arzigogolata acconciatura che è riuscita a farsi in testa per andare a fare il suo lavoro.
L’hostess passa oltre con il suo sorriso stampato in viso.
Sospiro e provo a riconcentrarmi sul libro che sto leggendo. Da quando l’aereo è decollato, circa un’ora fa, avrò letto trecento volte la stessa frase.
Non c’è niente da fare: volare mi terrorizza.
Mi volto alla mia destra dove siede un’anziana signora. Il viso è solcato da tante rughe e gli occhi azzurri risaltano in quel campo arato. Anche lei mi sorride e, riconoscendo nel mio sguardo il terrore autentico, dopo qualche secondo mi dice:
“Ha paura?”
Chance half smile
"Let's say you are not exactly peaceful."
The plane takes a vacuum, splashing me in the stomach and throat with his hand instinctively try to grab a hold before me invisible.
The old lady takes my hand unexpectedly.
"Do not worry," she says.
grateful I smile at her and she continues:
"Besides, if the plane falls, die instantly and do not notice anything."
I leave the shooting hand with a smile on his face that I die and I reflect that she is easy to say: I have thirty years, you at least a hundred.
I turn on the opposite side: there are a couple and a gentleman in his fifties. Sembrano così beati e tranquilli e mi ritrovo a invidiarli, perché io non ho mai fatto un volo in aereo sereno in quel modo. Torno a chiedermi come si possa essere rilassati in quell’inferno volante.
Il signore distinto in giacca e cravatta si gira verso me, poi come ricordandosi improvvisamente qualcosa di importante si volta di scatto e tira giù lo scuro del finestrino.
E’ stato un attimo, ma ho notato qualcosa di strano. Non ho fatto in tempo a distinguere cosa fosse, ma fuori dall’aereo c’era qualcosa.
Torno a voltarmi verso destra, ma anche da quella parte lo scuro del finestrino è abbassato. Faccio un rapido controllo intorno a me, ma non c’è un solo finestrino aperto da cui possa vedere out.
I'm getting paranoid or was there really something strange?
I turn my gaze back to the centuries-old lady next to me and, pointing with his head on the window, I ask if we can pull up the dark to look outside. The old
placid smiles at me and said:
"Better not. It does no good to those who see where we are afraid of flying. "
This then ... well I'll know better what to do when ...
not finish the thought. This time there is a small air pocket. The plane lost altitude rapidly. I hold the strong arms of his chair and I think we're falling and I just have to scream like the rest of the plane.
E 'in That's when I realize that, even if we're falling straight down, no one is uttering a sound or a scream of terror. I do not know how, but I can look around and I am amazed: not only are all in complete silence as if they were seeing a challenging film to the cinema, but is printed on the faces of passengers a beatific smile.
When I recover from the surprise, I realize that the plane is no longer falling and is again fully stabilized.
For the umpteenth time I watch the old lady. If
standing there watching me smiling, as if nothing had happened.
"But ..." he stammered, "she was not afraid?"
"What?" she said in amazement.
I do not know what to say. After a moment of silence, I say:
"The vacuum ... what the hell was that ... the plane was falling peak ..."
"Oh, she does ... you get used to that ..." She did not answer and
remain silent. I'm tempted to grab the lapels and scream against wearing it to fly I do not ever get used. And just now the plane was actually falling.
"For me it was so early that very soon ... will smile, too."
I look at her with dazed expression on his face, but what he's talking about? At that moment I realize
that the hostess was standing near me ... and guess what '... has a smile on his face.
He hands me his hand and says,
"Well, it's up to you."
"What?"
"It 's your turn," says the flight attendant a bit' impatiently, but without losing his smile.
"I do not understand, I ..."
not end a sentence that I find myself surprised by syringe stuck in his arm. The hostess had to keep it hidden in his hand behind his back.
The old lady smiles at me and says,
"Oh, do not worry ... it is the practice."
I feel that the serum is injected into my vena.
“Che cosa…”
Di nuovo non termino la frase. Giro la testa verso il signore distinto che sorridente mi fa un cenno con il capo e apre il finestrino giusto in tempo perché io possa realizzare cos’era quella cosa strana che avevo intravisto poco prima.
Perdo i sensi sentendo le labbra che si distendono in un sorriso.
Fuori dall’aereo quello strano animale, simile a un fagiano volante, continua a sbattere le ali ritmicamente come a dare propulsione all’apparecchio.




[continua...]

Best Home Theatre Receiver For Your Buck

Monologue of a man in prison

“Scricchiola. Produce un suono fastidioso. Lo so che è la seggiola, solo e soltanto la seggiola, yet I'm lying on the bed.

I wobble. I have to move these legs, so disgustingly skinny. Here

clean. It 's my room and clean it thoroughly. What fools. Naive. But then I clean their rooms. Fool myself. I get up early and can barely sleep at night. I could write. In fact I could write, but I'm not capable. Shit. I can not. If only I could talk instead of write. If only we could do and I love her. Again.

The chair creaks. If I do not moves are finished. Because then I start to shake. Those hideous spasms. Cool. If only I could make you laugh as before. Fool. Acrobat's buffoonery. She just laughed at me. What the hell will got my face? Perhaps it was also my scent that made her laugh. Always clean and fragrant. Once I even got a deodorant. So, because I was going. Not that you stink, in fact.

If I do not have everything all at once I feel insane. Mad. Ridgemont High. I also lose some hair, but my father is not bald. If only I could go back I would do everything at once. Marrying and having children. We had a fight, sure.

am smart but I do not apply. I want to fight. I need to fight. And 'the fury breaks my brain. So do not go crazy. So noises and feelings do not give a damn for a while '. I am just a fury. Knuckles. Hands. I'm just cuts and bruises. Yet she loved my hands.

I get up. Sto. The fury and spasms are a "I can not go back." Clever. Ready to take back everything I've stolen. Because first of all I've stolen me. Instead she stole my heart. Me that has chained heart. And 'if it beats, beats so arrogant. I am arrogant. But even smart. An ace.

Sto. I do not walk, I do not get up, otherwise I will be out all arrogance.

Living day as the long days. Or moments. She would be my longest day, if only I were capable. The Bad I would give. Even in the legs. Then she told me a story or a joke to make me kill the pain. Invented stories of healthy plant. Sometimes I even invented my life. What a guy! What a fool! I dare not look at others and the others did not dare look at me.

cigarettes. The I put somewhere. Two, three packages around. What a buffoon. If only I had understood before. If only I had not missed the daily life. I would not be here. Creaks. It moves by itself. I want my gun. And the wig that I used. Than intelligence. I do not ever pecked, guys.

If I had the gun now I put it in your mouth. Fool. To make a joke on someone.

Smoke. I drink. But they did not reach the water. Damn. I pretend to spit. Dehydrated. Points the gun at them. Naive. After

aver fumato vorrei stare con lei. Lei non mi ricorda neanche lontanamente mia madre. Neanche mio padre. Lei non è me. Sono solo io che vorrei essere lei, ma non posso. Lei non vorrebbe essere me. Se potessi toccherei quel suo seno tenero e piccolo. Se potessi la lascerei libera. Questa stanza puzza. Lavare, pulire, mangiare il grano con le mani, a morsi, senza cuocerlo. Devo fare quei lavori. Domani. Adesso è tardi, ma forse prima di spengere la luce scrivo.

E’ un rischio. Corro troppi rischi. E sono pericoloso. Perché? Merda. Quella sedia la romperei in mille pezzi. Ma guarda che braccia. Niente muscoli. Però ne ho date di botte a quei bastardi. Se solo qualcuno osava: botte! Cazzotti e pedate. Poi che sapore acre sulle labbra. Stench of sweat, blood clotted. Crushed. Do not see almost nothing, with eyes so clouded. Flowed. Large swellings were born. What a buffoon.

But I could laugh. I could change voice. And she laughed, you would not believe. My face. Dear face.

I could shave. Maybe a shower. But then someone could tell me I'm beautiful. She told me and what I got angry. I hate to hear me say I'm beautiful. Demeanor. Confidentiality. Distrust of everything. So everything is crap. But she did not. She lives in the trees. Never falls, but I know cry for me. Cry out for me.

I sleep. Both dream and then I can not sleep. I will write tomorrow. And tomorrow and tomorrow. Why so I do not know if I get out. If you do it. If you shoot.

sleep. The chair creaks

no more ... "

Myammee College Graduate

Sound?



" My man dance the tango. At night, when for many it's time to retire, there is a local bad to fear. And 'here until late at night I come to see my man dancing. The dark street, the houses the windows have some light goes out, the streets very tight and made of stone, the last lane, hide the entry over a filthy tent, dancing in here my man. He knows that there are always ignores me but for him it's just music, it's only the tables that held under beats and heels. Betrays me dancing with women, the real ones that dance with him, making love with him, while everyone watches, and myself.
Inside there's smoke all around and music forever, the day never came, the light here noni moves well. Smoke and music, the smell and taste of red wine, and the sweat of the warm people, and the food. It 's a hood that makes the atmosphere in which he dances and I look far away, when he cheats on me, but I have a knife with me, I have a knife with me that nobody sees. "


- drops, the You yourself know that this evening is not for sleeping.
- To make it all easy words, the facts, that does not know hold.
- This evening we will all the facts you want, we'll have so many that you can tell for days, and only the most important, because you would not have the time to say them all.
- Words, as always.
- Play, play the tango. It 's a distant but loud music, just feel it. They are the voices of a country halfway around the world. The musicians there, here are dying of nostalgia and their tango suffers and makes money. Sad music for those who want to escape, but also return, who knows what the homeless home.
- Who is without a future?
- This evening, their future is only the applause at the end of the music, while continuing to pay off the sweat a little longer playing the last notes in disarray, the best, still steeped in the song just ended.
- I'm just notes.
- Who made, who plays, the listener, the last notes are all blown in the air like soap bubbles, break away, and a few drops on. So mix in a precise moment the joys, pain, boredom and bags of joy for most people oceans away, and so different destinies, some marked.
- I am interested in only the matters of the heart.
- but also of politics, and why not, of freedom. Each has its own way to express it and those who did not, and who should conquistarsela, then the tango takes very deep meanings, when to say it like it is can not be or you fail.
Blood sweat and sadly ending in these sounds that cease only when there are forces, but as soon as you shoot, it starts another song, another round, many stories in a single all-encompassing discourse.
- From here I can see where they play, I sense also their movements, but not well.
- Feel the words? What they say, what's the story?
- often sing a song, I asked around if anyone knows, I translate, and finally an old man, certainly one of them, with some of my words and many of his tongue, he explained that the tango is called:

Mi hombre es un Tangier.


"My man dances il tango. La sera quando per molti è l’ora di ritirarsi, c’è un locale, brutto da paura. ...”

Tech Deck Birdhouse Shaun White Jaws Dog

The eclipse of 1999 that are

Si svegliò improvvisamente che non si era ancora fatta mattina. Una luce appena dorata penetrava dalle fessure socchiuse delle imposte mentre un vago senso di inquietudine si impadroniva lentamente di lui mano a mano che prendeva coscienza.

Che giorno era quello? E perché si sentiva così?

Strizzò gli occhi nel tentativo di distinguere nella fioca luce della stanza la data cerchiata in rosso che spiccava sulla pagina del calendario appeso alla parete di fronte.

11 agosto 1999.

Sì, there was no doubt. The day was and what had arrived. I was waiting for weeks.
I felt the inspiration from when newspapers and TV gave voice to astronomers and scientists and pages and services were dedicated to the event. And, since I had heard growing inside him a feeling of indescribable anguish and growing.

fatal Date: 11:11 to exact that of 11 August of the millennium the orbits of the sun, moon and earth would fall in the latter and, interposing between the two celestial bodies, would cast a shadow of death on planet's surface.

Yes, death.

a deep sigh escaped him at the thought of dark omens that the phenomenon inevitably led with them. An aura of catastrophic weather from the darkness that precedes the end, the end of the world.

seemed impossible to believe in such a beautiful day.
is out of the window.

In fact it was really a wonderful day, the sun shone in a cloudless sky and blazing skies. Not even the shadow of a white fluffy bow to damage the surface of cobalt perfect. And the world seemed more alive, the earth more animated than usual. Nothing I did predict the end.
yet ...

In the seventh month of the year nineteen ninety-nine from the sky will come a great king scary to resurrect the King of Angolmois before Mars reigns happily, "the quatrain number 72 of the Tenth Centuria di Nostradamus parlava chiaro.

Oddio, chiaro… insomma parlava. E si lasciava interpretare. Eccome se si lasciava interpretare.

Il mese indicato come "settimo", infatti, sarebbe stato in realtà proprio quello di agosto dato che l'apocalittico frate preveggente avrebbe scritto quei versi in data antecedente il calendario Gregoriano e nel calendario giuliano usato in quel periodo, l'11 agosto corrisponde proprio all'attuale 29 luglio.

Non c'era da scherzare.
Non ci voleva certo un grosso sforzo di fantasia per capire che il riferimento era tutto per quell'eclissi di fine millennio. Era più immediato di altre volte in cui non era stato possibile ricollegare i versetti ai fatti se non dopo che questi si erano verificati. Ma poi tutto coincideva.

Inesorabilmente. Neppure una grinza.

E poi chi era quel re d'Angolmois?

"L'an mil neuf ans nonante neuf sept moins du ciel diendra vun grand Roy d'effrayeur…".

Il Signore dello spavento. Le parole gli rimbombavano nella testa amplificandosi e facendosi di volta in volta più cupe e minacciose.

Non c'era niente da fare. I versi del profeta non lasciavano spazio a nessuna più ottimistica interpretazione.

Nel momento stesso in cui il sole si fosse tinto di nero sarebbe stata la fine. Era scritto.
E come se ciò non bastasse gli astronomi avevano previsto proprio per questo stesso periodo l’allineamento della luna con i nove pianeti del sistema solare a formare una grande croce con la terra nel punto di intersezione e l'entrata di Marte nella costellazione dello Scorpione, suo domicilio diurno per il suo felice regnare.

Tutto concorreva a confermare quanto previsto da Nostradamus.

Anche Giovanni ne aveva parlato. Sì, Giovanni, l'Evangelista. Quello dell'Apocalisse.

E se lo aveva detto lui…

Narrava che all'apertura del sesto sigillo si sarebbe udito un gran terremoto, il sole si sarebbe offuscato tanto da apparire nero come un sacco di crine, la luna avrebbe preso il colore del sangue, le stelle sarebbero precipitate sulla terra come frutti acerbi di un fico scosso da un vento impetuoso, the sky is rolled up like a scroll that rolls backward, mountains and islands would disappear from their seats.

Stuff to shake your wrists.

walked nervously back and forth trying to loosen the tension felt rise up in me.

*

was a snap. He saw the mass of ice accumulated at the South Pole drifting towards the equator with overwhelming speed and the forces of nature, the ancient lost balance, unleash their fury: the volcanoes erupt, high waves fall on the continents, the hurricanes of incredible power sweeping the entire planet, nuclear power plants explode around creating deserts of death. And large walls of water hit the shore e un altissimo e denso strato di cenere vulcanica oscurare il sole e venti potenti come uragani carichi di polvere, fumo e gas velenosi stravolgere l'atmosfera.

Scacciò dalla mente quelle immagini apocalittiche che si erano materializzate nella sua testa sulla scorta incalzante di quei suoi funesti pensieri ma ciò non lo fece sentire certo meglio.
Ripercorse tutta la sua vita fino a quel momento, ripensò alle tante cose fatte, a quanto aveva costruito e aiutato a costruire. Ai suoi figli.

Già, che ne sarebbe stato dei suoi figli?

Sentì dentro di sé ogni energia sgretolarsi come un biscotto tra le dita. Dopo tutta la fatica per tirarli su e per renderli autosufficienti…

Not that they had given him trouble. And what a headache ...

And as for self-sufficiency, to think of it, they could not very good. If it was not there every minute to check them ended up with a thousand eyes immediately with getting into trouble. And that trouble ...

And he could not always take them off the hook. Did his best, certainly. But what the heck, he too had its limits.

Even now, how could he do something to save them? It was impossible. In the midst of this catastrophe there would be no longer any place really safe.

He looked up at the large clock that dominated the front wall of chanting the inexorable passing of time. The 11 o'clock. Missing ancora pochi minuti soltanto e poi la luna avrebbe stretto il sole nel suo abbraccio mortale.

Decise di salire più in alto. Da lì avrebbe potuto seguire tutte le fasi dell'evento. Fino alla sua conclusione. Non restava altro da fare.

*

Ora la luna aveva già iniziato ad intaccare la sfera solare e sempre la superficie oscurata della stella andava aumentando.

Le 11 e 5 minuti. Il sole si era ridotto ad una lamina sottile, sempre più affilata mentre sulla terra l'aria si era fatta fredda e la luce spettrale.

Già gli uccelli avevano smesso di volare e non si udiva più nessun canto. I leprotti dei prati erano corsi a rifugiarsi tra la vegetazione, i cervi a nascondersi nel bosco.

Ecco uscire dai loro nidi le creature della notte. Pipistrelli alzarsi in volo, gufi e barbagianni posarsi sui fili elettrici tesi sopra le case, falene percorrere ubriache le loro orbite attorno ai lampioni che la calante intensità della luce, oramai del tutto smorzata, aveva fatto accendere.

Si alzò un vento gelido e sottile che penetrava fin nell'anima, acuendo quel senso di fine imminente che già si era impossessato delle menti.

Le 11 e 10. Ora mancava pochissimo. Ancora un piccolo scatto e la luna avrebbe ingoiato anche l'ultimo barlume rimasto. E sarebbe stato il buio. Totale.

Una frazione di secondo e l'occhio di luce scomparve, mentre lungo il perimetro del satellite un sinistro bright diadem he crowned his face blackened.

long, interminable seconds of perfect silence. Not a line, not a sound, not a word. Everything was still.



Then ... Then as it began, slowly, inexorably, the light broke through and on the opposite side from where you left off the last ray of sunshine, a new twist appeared.

Plan formed a segment whose details went away with the passage of minutes to open up a wide smile. The ink had just swept tinged with black the surface of the star withdrew. Back light.

The birds resumed their singing while flying back to fill the atmosphere. The little creatures of the fields abandoned their refuges in the vegetation, the deer came out of the bush. The creatures of the night returned to their nests. The bats came back in the caves, and barn owls left the wires argument over the houses, the moths stopped their orbits around streetlights that the return of light, which now had again invaded the land, had made off.

The icy wind died down and thin.

He looked down. All was calm as the minutes before the eclipse. No mass of ice accumulated at the South Pole to the equator had slipped quickly and with overwhelming forces of nature had kept the old balance. No erupting volcano had entered, nessun'onda giant had fallen over the continents, no incredibly powerful hurricane had swept the globe. Nuclear power plants were intact, and even the desert was more alive than ever. No one layer of volcanic ash obscured the sun and there was no sign of the fans even hurricanes loads of dust, smoke and poisonous gases that would have upset the atmosphere. The seas were calm, the mountains motionless.

all well under control.

Thank God everything was OK.

God breathed a sigh of relief.

Even for that time had gone well. He got out of the cloud which had risen to observe the eclipse and went to prepare to receive the prayers of gratitude that would soon come for saving the earth and sort the votes for favors received and the offers that the men had meanwhile paid tribute to the fear of imminent doom.

sat at his desk and sat at a good pace.

The expected hard work.

Colleges Forcing Students To Live On Campus

Life Two - IV

The woman is still there, sitting opposite me in the same position
"Everything okay?"
asks me "Yeah, okay. I did. How much time elapsed? "
" Almost five minutes. It was a real nightmare? "
" Well, in fact. But do not worry, it is quite normal for me. " It seems not
listen to me anymore. Is fumbling in a bag and, magically, pulled out a thermos and two cups. The full, it gives me one. Maybe it's tea, perhaps a herbal tea or something, the smell is still very good. We stay a few minutes, maybe hours, in silence, sipping our hot drinks.
And 'she who speaks first:
"The goes to tell me?"
"Yes" answer "... sure. I'm not sure if it was just a dream or something that really happened to me, anyway ... "

When I finish my story, the church comes the sound of bells chiming twelve.
"It 's already noon.
"Yeah, e io devo andare a casa. Peccato, mi sarebbe piaciuto trattenermi almeno per un altro sogno”.
“Che problema c’è, prenda ciò che vuole, lo porti a casa e ci vediamo domenica prossima.
“Dice sul serio, posso? “
“Certo che può”
Affondo le mani nella cassapanca e tiro fuori alcuni oggetti, a caso. La donna li sistema in una scatolina di cartone: “Ecco fatto”.
Ci salutiamo, ripercorro velocemente la piazza.
Il ragazzo dei cestini e il suo amico stanno chiacchierando con due ragazze. Mi vede, mi fa un cenno con la testa e gli scappa anche un occhiolino. Sorrido a mezze labbra, abbasso la testa e allungo il passo.

Quando rientro at home I wonder why I was not out. I tell you a little 'bales, the truth is that I wanted to burrow. Reversal
the little box on the kitchen table, looking at the scattered objects, I take a hand. It 'a dry leaf ...

leaf

"Where, as I arrived in this place.
I've been here ... but when? "

A driveway lined with trees, fallen leaves form a soft carpet, the light of heaven seems to be painted in the churches.
I'm walking with my eyes closed but still I can see my surroundings, I feel il profumo degli alberi, percepisco la loro voce, il calore del sole scalda la pelle del viso
Procedo a passo lentissimo. O forse sono ferma... Mi siedo, anzi, vedo il mio corpo che si siede su una pietra ai bordi della strada. Da quella posizione scorgo ciò che prima mi era sfuggito: nascosta dai rovi, l’ingresso di una grotta scavata nella parete della collinetta
Non l’ ho mai vista ma è come se la conoscessi bene. Forse sono passata di qui in sogno. Oppure… un dejà vu ma certo! Ecco, tra venti secondi mi alzerò, toglierò una foglia dalla punta della scarpa, riprenderò a camminare, arriverò fino all’ingresso della grotta e...

“... Adesso basta! Non vi vedo ma I feel your presence very well. Who are you? Why follow me? You can not, this is my dream, go!
No. Wait, I did not want to be rude. Follow me, if you want, but know that you'll never go back: you will, like me, a prisoner of the memory of this spell has been here every day, every day, for eternity ... "

Simultaneously ...

The movement of the sea announces a storm. The wind that is now gently sweeping away the leaves from the streets of the village will soon become a rage ... An old man is always so
smokes his cigar, sat at a table in the most hidden bar
head straight, his left hand tight on the knob of the stick, staring into space, beyond the line which separates the sea from the sky before his eyes
slide images that come from far away:
A driveway
country,
the smell of wet grass,
the voice of the trees, the sun on your face.
A young woman is sitting on a stone
the roadside.
E 'intent, who knows what he is thinking. Watch
in front of him, gets up, takes a leaf from
shoe moves towards the entrance to a cave.

suddenly turns around, tells him something, then resumed walking.

He follows ...

The storm has arrived but the old man is still there, still. He does not feel and do not see anything except the images that go through your mind and have filled his life every day, every day: The memory of the smell of spring and a tree lined drive that has traveled a long time ago. And the cave, where she disappeared to never return.