How Much Does It Cost To Laminate And Bind

Blessing Mexico.

"Anyone still awake at the end of a night of stories, certainly will become the wisest person in the world. So for us, "

Happy New Year.

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"Once upon a Santa Claus"

The post that follows is the revival, in part magazine, a note I wrote last year on Christmas day to remember my father for the first time I'm on earth, could not be with us for a mystery that concerns us all, but he has already experienced: The end of life. He always said that "since no one has ever come back, then you will be so bad." Without knowing Vasco Rossi "How many people believe there is afterlife, something, who knows how many people will still, be content that my father showed ....", with these words, his spirit Rock.

I was strange reading. It 'a kind of overexposure. Too personal, no doubt. So much so that if the theme was another, any more, I deleted the note, and certainly would not have posted here, but they are on my blog, within my "rooms", and we want to see my father too, because it is my belief that ' only life possible for those who died, resides in the memory of those who live, and he lives with me because I think about it every day, even alive, but I want around me, because my father, and do not need to say the least.

À chacun son père noël.

do not know why I say it in French. Indeed yes, but I will not explain it. This is my first Christmas without a "father" as they say in Senigallia. By me in Abruzzo is called "Daddy" and in any case there will be. His absence brings back old memories. One such example, when he returned from Germany at Christmas and brought me chocolate gift in the shape of a Christmas tree or a giant rabbit. It was like a ritual, and I was happy, not the chocolate itself, but for the idea that this gift had to do to get me this far. I always had the traveler syncope even when I did not. Today I know that this "disease" has sent me my father, in a kind of "all inclusive" genetic ... difficult character orsaggine-proof patent, ultra thin hair and liscissimi in spite of my last name (which to me seems a hoax), a sharp irony, sarcasm almost, and also the ability to laugh and entertain others. Finally, this thing, the syndrome of the wandering shepherd Asia, as the poetry of Leopardi (who literally saved me from impending rejection in high school). My father, my father's father, his three brothers and her only sister were all female travelers, emigrants, to be exact, of those who bring their homeland in the heart, but leave it for ever, without chance to come back. His brothers ended up in America (Central / Latin America) and there are dead. My father, after trying them as the streets of Colombo, has opted for Germany, but he eventually went back home and you are no longer moved in recent years, perhaps he could recover the long absence. His return has not been rosy. Too much alike to not clash. They started as large distances, the Cold War, open hostility.

The distances between us have always existed, but without the excuse that they were the miles between my house and Germany, I weighed a lot more. The chocolate is no longer arrived at Christmas, though he was there and perhaps the hope of remedy, sooner or later. Maybe, "then" to remedy really happened, but it was he who exceed certain limits and meet me. It was the time of my trip to London. Perhaps it is recognized that gesture, and appreciated that the ripercorressi its paths as geographically distant, and I believe him to be sorry to see me back so quickly. He knew better than I that make sense only if the trip will last a lifetime. I think more and more. My journey then gave me back a father who almost overnight became interested aloud to my life and my projects, a father "normal" that eventually helped me.

My Christmas this year will be sad, hard to bear, boring to celebrate. I would disappear from the world of good for as long binges and travel in space if only we could, because my dad this Christmas is not here. I wonder where all the time is over, if it really is everything finished. According to the laws of God at this time is in heaven and it's all a pleasure. According to the world of marketing, take a coffee with Bonolis and Clooney in a state of heavenly serenity. Then there would be "to me" that goes beyond any doctrinal teaching and business. My instinct, in addition to the data collected here and there all my life, I suggest another solution, much less attractive, more "natural" I'm afraid.

When I look up I see blue, gray or yellow, depending on the weather ... when I look at the ground I see green, gray or otherwise, depends on them ... in general I have left the earth as a concept difficult to manage. I prefer the sea or the sky, but it is I walk on earth, this is where I live, and as far as I know, this is where I die. My father then? My mind imagines kept in an airless space, in a game of Chinese boxes made of iron, wood, concrete, marble and flowers - in order of coercion - and above, that is where he can not access, there is sky, which I still have the privilege to see. Perhaps no coincidence that now more than ever, spend more time with his head in the air and on land, among my fellow men.

The fact that he will be there at Christmas, Easter or mid-August as then, is like one of those features drawn on maps, and a natural boundary between before and after. Before I was, and now I am. Nothing is changed, yet everything has changed. I think the things I've always thought, but with an 'honesty that first disguised, sometimes repressed not to feel too much weight on him. Wanting to find a logic at all costs, could mean that sooner or later, like it or not, I'll resume the journey, not only in spatial terms. Will I go back crashing down to people, I'll have to take dozens of dialogues buried or abandoned, I have to leave the nest of paper that I stitched on ...

My nature, if not impossible with busts had forced the Chinese was to a more concrete, I gladly craft dream: Crete, oils, chalks, pencils, paint thinner, impossible smells and matter, this was my natural inclination. A life of thought sometimes I just lifts off and takes me too far from what I can move the veins. These years of violent and altogether useless autocostrizione, I drew him a 'yet another geographic line, one of my limits. I am comforted to know that everyone, really everyone has one, it amuses me that some do not even suspect, and when I think I'm wrong every single important choice, then I realize that is not true, that all makes sense, if only because Makes no sense really, if the ultimate meaning is to finish as canned sardines.

attempted by speeches immense and immensely banal as "life" I conclude that I understood the essence (or rather, my essence) only when I saw the fading breath of those who started in with my world. My father without a soul on that bed was the heaviest and most serious minutes of my entire existence. I've fixed all the time, sometimes with a morbid curiosity and final. I thought for a moment in "21 Grams" in the film more topic I could think of and I found it amazing that I could think of a movie, things everyday. I touched his skin still warm, I shook his hand, perhaps for the first time in thirty years, and I kept close, very close to mine for more than an hour, almost atrophy, wondering fucking reason for that something so simple and obvious it had not ever happened, not once before this moment that is the equivalent of any "too late" because he's gone. It does not matter how hard I thought before, the theory is nothing compared to that second that alone is enough to light in all its banal things that seemed to show up who knows how complex. You live and you die, you can breathe and then you stop breathing, you see and then you stop to see. In light of this obvious fact, many social myths / trade I have even more unbearable, especially when you've got to understand him a bit 'like everyone else.

At each of the What have I ever, but I lost the 'absolute, that was my biggest temptation. Today they are on and maybe, "relatively" better, with less than playacting in the head, and a principle of disenchantment that turns a little 'time my high expectations after years of "vain beating" and "vain hopes" as the poet who wrote I read up to ride the lines.

The mind thinks things never thought of before, and has the courage, perhaps a bit 'naive to tell someone to go and sometimes to other illusion that it is clear that new path that separates me head in two, and that but my thing is, nothing but my own. Back on the no man's land. It's always me, and I'll never be me. Now I know I am mortal.

All I knew at the first rationale, now runs through my veins and I runs through the body from head to foot all day, without rest. If there is a side effect is that my life is now filled with urgency. All that could wait until yesterday hours pulling my hair, tormenting me as an obsession, so I am surprised it had not yet exploded, Hiroshima style. I do not think about the future. It stopped being a priority several years ago, and now even less, now I have this, and hence the perception of everything changes so immense. I reacted in an atypical final journey of my father.

Di I left too soon, but I did as he liked, with a suitcase in his hand. I went to Paris because I would have only been able to go, and if ever a decision was the right one, this was it, not once but twice, always a choice between more just for me. I love this city where every corner has been crossed this opportunity to give their life to years of study at times Atrophy, returning to lives lived out of nowhere and kept me company. I said goodbye to friends in the most unexpected places (cemeteries, for example) between Truffaut, Baudelaire and many others in search of a thought where rests the body of those with the word or the image has been able to talk about things that many feel even as their own, but few would know to express in those terms. I am a bit ashamed 'for this, but Paris has served me to return to earth, to find any trace of bonheur which is the essence of the grand villas . I was almost correct. I had the terrible indelicacy of being selfish. Maybe that's why I'm a little 'sick to balance everything. Then once he returned to the usual purgatory (Ligabue says well, that's a place which one you choose) I had a naive extravagance and like every person I like to think that my father has sent me not to drown me. Some kind of angel, without a real body, not a life of its own. I can summarize in like a wonderful idea, to save me from the precipice at least once a day without having a clue as appropriate, are good at acting. As I said, I think things have to kill in the bud and do not know where all this will take me. Will surely be a different wander.

After much talk freely, I do not have much to add. There is no morality, there is no message, just floating along in distant places, may be inappropriate, too personal. But I've always been so. I can not be jealous of my thoughts, but only because I do not think that share will diminish.

The image above is of Talani. It is bad law, so rewrite the contents:

"Travelling at night is always better, especially if it's a night you are wearing a blue coat and blue, but of those hot and heavy, good ones. If even then your eyes shine you can be confused with the sky and the stars. "

The right song for the occasion, "Send us a postcard" by Carmen Consoli, for the many similarities of the case. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nt6Q066C-Qc

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"The rich" Mona Achache. It has

"the Hérisson" (The Hedgehog in Italian) [2009] is the title of the first film Mona Achache. This is an adaptation of the novel by Muriel Barbery "the elegance of the hedgehog," a true literary event, not just French. The writer, however, has distanced himself from the film, which in its opinion, is too far removed from the book.

I liked the film immensely. Sober, "elegant", just like the word deducted from the title ("Why is it so that its practitioners call it," says the director). Elegant and beautiful is the soundtrack. The environment is Paris it almost always is in movies French, but do not see it hardly ever, or at least, there are no places or symbols which leads through the capital would be recognizable. Much of the movie in fact, takes place indoors, which help tell the interiority of the characters. A film full of rooms, like my blog. Middle-class rooms (the house of Paloma) "East" (the home of Kakuro), proletarian (the reception) and rooms "Literature" (from which my particular affinity with Renee).

Paloma is the pivot around which the story. Renée is for her an important point of reference, a true beacon. I find the description of these two beautiful women, one young, the other couple, and disillusioned. Both fragile, but for different reasons. Their union, which is that of friendship, a sense to both.

I also think that the French have a way around them to tell the relationship between children and adults. (Vigo, Truffaut and many others ...)

But back to the "hedgehog" There are three key characters in the film:

Renee (played by Josiane Balasko wonderful ) is an "old" concierge: surly, scruffy, the opposite of the canonical "Beautiful". Lout pretends to avoid relationships with the world that she sees only a humble craft and related clichés [" do not leave your cat, do not let the door " Paloma says when her mother closes the door behind him, pushing out with Renée].

René has a secret room full of books, a "cache." Reads a lot, and in those moments he loves munching dark chocolate. In the book we are told that the woman is self-taught and like all self-taught (I think more in Truffaut) passes from delusion to the sense of impotence [I added the quotation of the passage in the bottom of this note]

[ in this scene: Renee has just turned down an invitation to dinner Kakuro, but then confused cries and embraces the Paloma, a the most tender scenes of the film because his tears seem to melt the wall that for years has kept out of life. ]

Paloma, ( de Garance Guillermic ) that is read with the accent on the "A" because it is French and teenager wake up, well above the average inteligente, who lives in a high-bourgeois family. His fate is wealth, but she sees in adults projection of what will become of his life, he sees them like fish in a bowl, and as such they will not fall, decides that completed the twelfth year of age commit suicide. Girl over the top, love the Japanese culture and language. And 'skilful in design and thought, and delights in the direction of the last month of his life in a film that wants to show that life is absurd . We see it often, especially at the beginning, while he adjusts his glasses, which continuous between the tangle of curly hair. (I ricordaTruffaut and constant with which the women in his films are arranged glasses, as the symbol of the difficulty of seeing things as they really are. Kate, the scene of the chalet for example, but the trick appears in many films)

[The wall is broken. René ride as it had never happened during the movie. And 'live for the first time in years. But are his last hours, and she can not know]

Kakuro Ozu (Togo Igawa) is to me a figure of irresistible charm. Embodies a far east and culturally intriguing. A type of humanity which today seems to have vanished. He is a gentle man, educated, friendly but not flashy. Its sweet and singularly expressive eyes ever see people hiding behind all the rest. E 'only, with Paloma to understand that behind the hedgehog (Renée) hides an elegant figure and fine. E 'to him and his little friend, Renee owes its revival after years of significant apathy, hidden past to live without ever exposing himself and trying emotions were not those of the books, then someone else. Renée, again before the mirror, once again ready to get involved, but at this point the game ends. And his date of death matches with the happiest of days, when, as he says Paloma "was ready to love ".

For a finale the spectator is unbearable. We are used to hundreds of happy ending in every shape and sauce that scene and so real, plausible, it is almost unacceptable. The world is how it goes , and "insecure" is the adjective that will remind us in the history books one day. We therefore need at least at the cinema, a final positive, otherwise the banality. Renée dies hit by half. He still has the dress that gave her Kakuro, still has the flavor of that phrase in the mouth of Anna Karenina: "All happy families are alike, but unhappy ones are each in its own way"
These were the last Renee's words: "How do you decide the value of a life? Paloma that your live up to what you promise"
Paloma These last words: "So is this? suddenly everything stops? is this die? never again see those you love, never again see those who love you? If you die this is precisely the tragedy they say .... What matters is not to die, but what you do when you die. René, what she did at the time of death? She was ready to love "

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EPFwZ5468rg [Movie Trailer]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=edYkWx5QDsM ; [Trailer of the film in French. Much better in the original language]



Two excerpts from the book:
(Paloma)
Deep Thought # 1

Dreams

the stars in the mouths of fish

Red finish.

Apparently, every now and then adults take time to sit and contemplate the disaster of their lives. Then they complain without understanding and, as always flies banging against the same glass, stir, suffer, deteriorate, get depressed and wonder what mechanism brought them where they did not want to go. For the more intelligent it becomes even a religion: Ah! Abject vacuity of the 'bourgeois existence! Some cynics of this type, dine at the table of my father: "What has happened to our dreams of youth?" Wonder disenchanted with air and satisfied. "Flew away, and life is their bastard" I hate this false clarity of maturity. The truth is that they are like everyone else, kids who do not understand what happened and who play at being tough and they want to cry. Yet it is not so difficult to understand. The problem is that children believe in the great speeches, and a great time, she takes it in turn deceiving children. "Life has a meaning and adults to keep it" is the universal lie that everyone is forced to believe . As adults, when we realize that is not true, it is too late. The mystery remains, but all energy is gone by time wasted in stupid activities. You just have to try to anesthetize, hiding the fact that we can not give meaning to our lives and deceiving our children to try to convince ourselves better. My family attends all of whom have followed the same pattern: a youth spent trying to capitalize on their intelligence, like a lemon and squeeze their studies and to secure a position at the top, and then an entire life asking stunned because these hopes have resulted in a life so useless. People think of chasing the stars and ends as a goldfish in a bowl. I wonder if it would be easier to teach children right from the start that life is absurd . This would take away some happy moments to childhood, but would gain a lot 'of time without adult- count that would prevent at least one trauma, one of the ball.

(René)
Rejecting the clash.

I have read many books ...

Yet, like all self-taught, never sure of what I understand. One day I seem to embrace at one glance all knowledge, as if suddenly invisible branches were born, and weave together all my scattered readings - then immediately the meaning slips away, the essential thing escapes me, and as re-read the same rows each time I appear to be more elusive, and I see myself as an old fool who thinks he has a full belly just because he read the menu. It seems that the presence of talent and blindness is the hallmark dell'autodidatta. While depriving the subject of safe driving every providing good training, however, gives him freedom and capacity for synthesis of thought, where the official speeches and prohibit the barriers hindering adventure.

Paloma

Last profound thought

But what to do before a

never

if not continuously seek

in furtive notes?

Madame Michelle died this morning. E 'pickup truck was hit by a dry cleaner ... I can not believe I'm writing these words. ...

Kakuro has played with us about eleven o'clock. He asked me, then took my hand and said: "There is no way to avoid this pain, Paloma, then I'll tell you as it happened: just now about nine Renée had an accident . A very serious accident. E 'dead. ...

For the first time in my life have I experienced the meaning of the words never . Well is a terrible thing. ...

not worry Renee I do not commit suicide and I will not focus precisely nothing. Because from now on, for you, always go in search of ever. The beauty here in this world.

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Pillars of Hercules thought. Maria Luisa of street sweepers.

HAS NOT THOUGHT Pillars of Hercules. (2004)

Your soul baby,
devilish laziness if it creates. Neither Columbus nor suspected
Ulysses
the thousands and thousands of islands on hold. You expect
entire continents.
sleep inside your brain: Osa!
The world is being created.



Maria Luisa street sweepers.

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"November 1963" by Angela Caponigro.

It happens to everyone at least once in their life, to be born. Everyone knows it, just think about it, and very few remember it. Angelo instead went further, he remembers also the source of origin. I enjoyed reading his thoughts, and since has given me permission to share it, the public rooms on my page and thank him.

Yesterday was the day of my 46th birthday. Strange that almost makes me feel to write that number, but I do not make any say or think sopra.Vuol say that more than 16,000 days of that moment in November of '63, when a blinding light of the delivery room 'forced me to the hospital in Varese first curse of my life as if it had not been enough effort that I had done up to that momento.Ho very beautiful memories of my life pre-birth: I was a sperm a bit' atypical spent his days wandering through those two quiet stations that were suspended at the very base from which to launch the huge barrel on alternate days, but more rarely, were shot out all the sperm that can be booked for great race, so they called it. I, however, I was sitting in the lounge area, leaving me dangling from the movement of the station, peering into the tail of some spermatozoina X, chatting with new arrivals in the waiting room. There were those who had tired of waiting and could not wait to throw themselves, who was fearful of what he would find out who asked me what should be done once launched. Not having any desire to launch and therefore having spent time at the station, I knew exactly what there was to know. I knew that when they began to swing dramatically and the walls above us began to turn red meant that the great gun was arming and there was little the speaker warned who was booked to travel to current positions, where it is increasing pressure would break the gate and they would be thrown up in a violent and flow disordinato.Sapevo duvuto what you would do once outside, I had said the bartender of the restaurant area with whom I spent the whole day, she was too frail to launch and then had accepted that employment that also lets you listen from time to time voices from outside noise. He had heard the cries of those who had been catapulted into the void, who lay dying on the ground or somewhere, told me that you had to have luck and a lot of strength to run and get the first "big egg". I was chatting with her boredom of those days (perhaps that is why as adults then uses the expression "that sucks", is an unconscious legacy of waiting at the station told me about the world outside of ...), and as it should be according to the information captured. And it was her with his stories to convince me that it was time to gradually groped for the great race. He said that outside there was a great excitement, they began to feel really good, came from the years when they duvuto get up a war and that he did not know what this war, but it must be something terrible. There was a person that everyone loved and who called Pope John, it seems she cared for children, and another in which the world had high expectations that living in a very away, spoke of a new frontier and rights for all, the Kennedy name. Then I finally had to be told how beautiful to be young, until then the young people dressed like their fathers and fathers were thinking like, but now they were a separate category, they had their own way of thinking, dress, communicate, and it was All joyful and full of good intentions. I was beginning to excite the idea, but it was the music that I listened to the case, which blew the cap. I asked the bartender where it comes from the wonder and she said that it was songs, coming from outside and were sung and played by four guys from England with the fringe on the forehead, all dressed the same way and did all the crazy girls: screaming and did not speak on the other, and that's how she knew all those things. I decided: I would have booked for the next race! I wanted to be there at the time, live the excitement, hear those guys play. I prepared myself for well: instead of hanging out, gym and running, until the time of the call. Came the big day, the speaker crackled the usual formuletta, position us and I immediately tried to gain the center seats in the front row, someone complained, but there I noticed, I could see the parade along the inside of the cannon to upright in front of me. Everything shuddered, up to an incredible force that pushed us from behind and began to ascend at a supersonic speed, everything was uncontrollable and suddenly we came out jumping into the void. The bartender warned me: "if you will not see the light when you jump, you lucky! From then on everything depends on you." I was lucky, no light, but still dark and twisted tunnels where elbowing and I clung to all the tails of sperm in front of me, shock and even banned some impropriety in the way, but I had to go. I realized to be in good position, I tried to keep the path clear for not slow down, I began to see me before the end of the tunnel that had to be "the big egg," inarcai shoulders and lowered his head to prepare for all ' impact, I look fierce and violent gave a knob. Poi persi i sensi e non ricordo nulla di quello che accadde dopo, mi risvegliai diversi mesi dopo mentre sotto altre sembianze ripercorrevo a senso inverso il tunnel da cui ero arrivato, era strettissimo, sentivo urla e frasi concitate, le orecchie mi si erano appiccicate e stortate tutte, avevo il naso pressato alla parete ed un espressione sofferente e stordita. Poi due mani mi presero e vidi quella luce della sala parto, mi tornarono in mente le parole della barista e pensai che ero stato sfigato così mi usci quell'imprecazione che invece fu accolta con gioia e sorrisi da tutti lì dentro, era evidente che non parlavamo la stessa lingua.E così fu per i giorni seguenti: chiedevo dei Beatles e mi cacciavano una tetta in bocca da ciucciare, domandavo della Swinging London and no one in my arm for me to sleep. So I gave up and left her clinging to some rocking shoulder looking out the window. There was the world, Kennedy had been assassinated by 5 days, John XXIII had been dead for a few months and the Beatles had just started a relentless climb. Across the sill instead of dead leaves covered the streets while the trees tinged with poetry that as each fall, cold as hell not worried about the persimmons were alone on the bare branches and even the few passers-by rushed to that in November of '63.

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But you ...

God
faith alone can give But you
can give testimony.

God alone can give hope
But you can build trust
.

God alone can give love
But you
can teach another to love.

only God can give peace
But you can sow
union.

only God can give strength
But you can give support to a
discouraged.

God alone is the way
But you can
out to others.

God alone is the light
But you
you can make it shine for all to see.

God alone is the life
But you can do
reborn in others the desire to live.

only God can do what seems impossible
But you
you can do.

God alone is sufficient for himself
But he ...

prefer to count on you.



Prayer of a Christian community in Brazil


MORAL:

God gave man two hands
not to be bothered at all times

Seneca

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Divinity Human

There was a time when

men were similar to the gods, but

so abused their power

that Brahma, the Supreme God,

decided to deprive them of the divine power in hiding

an inaccessible place. He thought

consult other gods

to solve the problem.


Some of the gods gathered in council said

"Hiding in the depths of man's divinity the Earth. "

Brahma said

"It is not enough, the man will dig and find it."

The gods said to him:

"Hiding the divinity of the man in the depths of the ocean."

Brahma replied again:

"is not enough. He will explore the depths of the seas

and able to bring to the surface. "


Then the gods concluded:

"We do not know where to hide the divinity of man,

no place on earth,

in the sea or the sky that he did not can achieve. " Finally Brahma



felt he had found the solution to the problem and said

"The

hiding deep within man himself,

will live in his own heart:


is the only place where the 'man will not look. "



Ancient Hindu legend

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How are the towns of this city? Self-Acceptance

once a man who was sitting at the entrance. A young man approached and asked: "I have never come here. How are the inhabitants of this city? ". The man answered with a question: "What were the inhabitants of the city you come from?". "Selfish and evil - said the young - so I'm happy to go there." "So are the people of this city," replied the man. Shortly after, another young man approached and asked him the same question: "I just came to this country. How are the inhabitants of this city? ". The man answered with the same words: "What were the inhabitants of the city you come from?". "They were good, generous, hospitable, honest - said the young man - I had many friends and I found it hard to leave." "The people of this city are like that," replied the man. Meanwhile, a man had heard the conversation. When the second young man walked away, he turned to the man, reproachfully: "How can you give two completely different answers to the same question asked by two people?". "My dear boy - said the man - and each carries his heart in the universe. Who has not found anything good in the past, will not find anything good even here. On the contrary, those who had friends in the other city, you'll here the true and faithful friends. Because, you see, people are what we find in them. "



would be a revolution if not all, starting from parents and teachers, could be defined as "seekers of hidden gems in the other? Because "people are what we find in them."

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A king went into his garden and found
of trees and plants dying,
and some flowers had wilted.
Oak
said that he was dying because he could not be as tall as the pine.
Looking at the King Pine
found him suffering because he could not bring bunches as the screw. And the lives

was dying because he could not flourish as the rose.
finally found a plant, purple,
fresh and flourishing as ever.
Asked by King violets said
"It seemed obvious to me that when you planted you wanted a purple
.
If I wanted an oak, a pine tree, a vine or a rose, you'd planted
ones.
Then I thought, since I can not be other than what they are,
will try its best manifestation of myself. "

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The blind and the advertising

One day a blind man was sitting on the steps of a building with a hat at his feet and a sign bearing the inscription:
"I am blind, please help me." An advertising
walking nearby stopped and noticed that he was only a few pennies in his hat. He bent down and poured
other currencies.
Then, without asking the man, took the sign, turned it and wrote another sentence.
That same afternoon, the ad came from the blind and noticed that his hat was full of coins and banknotes.
The blind man recognized the step and asked if it was he who had rewritten his sign and what he wrote.
The advertisement said
"Nothing that was not true. I just rewrote your in a different way. "
smiled and walked away.
The blind person never knew what time it was written on his sign:
"Today is spring ... and I can not see."

MORAL:
Change your strategy when things do not go well and you'll see that it will be for the better.
Have faith: every change is the best for our lives

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Wording For Invitations For Vips

Life

"A boy and his father were walking in the mountains ...
Suddenly, the boy stumbled, and fell, hurting, shouted:" AAAhhhhhhhhhhh! "
To his astonishment the boy heard a voice coming from mountains repeating:
"AAAhhhhhhhhhhh!"
With curiosity, he asked: "Who are you?"
and received the answer: "Who are you?"
After the boy shouted, "I hear you! Who are you? "
And the voice replied," I hear you! Who are you? "
Enraged by the response he shouted:" Coward "
and received the answer:" Coward! "
Then the boy looked at his father and asked:" Daddy, what happened? "
His father smiled and answered "My son, now be careful,"
And after the man shouted: "You are a champion!"
The voice answered, "You are a champion!"
The son was surprised but did not understand.
Then the father explained: "People call this phenomenon ECO but it is LIFE.
Life, like an echo, you return what you say or do.
Life is but a reflection of our actions.
If you want more love in the world, you need to create more love in your heart;
If you want people to respect you, you must respect others first.
This principle should be applied in everything, in every aspect of life, life gives you back what you gave to it.
Our Life is not a set of coincidences,
is the mirror of ourselves.

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How Long Is 90,000 Words

One day, a small hole appeared in a cocoon, a man who was passing by chance, began to watch the butterfly for several hours, tried to get out of that little hole.
After a long time, it seemed that it had surrendered and the hole was always the same size. It seemed that the butterfly had now done all he could, and that was no longer able to do anything else. Then the man decided to help the butterfly: he took a pocketknife and opened the cocoon. The butterfly then emerged immediately. But his body was small and shrunken, and his wings were poorly developed and hardly moved. The man continued to watch because he hoped that, at any moment, the wings of the butterfly opened and they were able to sustain the body, and it began to fly. Not
nothing happened! As the butterfly spent the rest of his life crawling on the floor with a shrunken body and wings undeveloped. He was never able to fly.
What man, with his gesture of kindness and with the intention of helping did not understand was that pass through the narrow hole in the cocoon was the effort required so the butterfly could convey the fluid of his body to its wings, so that it could fly.
was the way in which God made her grow and develop.
Sometimes, the effort is exactly what we need in our lives.
If God allowed us to live our lives without encountering any obstacles, we would be limited. We could not be as strong as we are. We could never fly.

I asked for strength ... and God gave me difficulties to make me strong.
I asked for wisdom ... and God gave me problems to solve.
I asked for prosperity ... and God gave me brains and muscles to work.
I asked to be able to fly ... and God gave me obstacles to overcome.
I asked for love ... and God gave me to help people with problems.
I asked for favors ... and God gave me opportunities.
I have not received anything that I asked ... But I got everything I needed.

Live life without fear, tackle all obstacles and prove that you can overcome them.

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Chocolate Color Bedrooms

The butterfly will win!

If you think you win, won six
.
If you think, "I dare not,"
do not.
If you like to win but think you can not do it,
is unlikely that you will do so.
If you think you lose, you lose
.
Why in the world, we know that success begins with
willpower.
Everything is based on the thinking. Many things are lost

before the first pitch is made. Many fail

cowards before the work is started. Think of the great things

and what you do, it grows.

Think of the little things and move back.
Everything is based on the thinking.
think you do, and you do
.
If you think you win, won six
. For high
you think to other destinations.
You must be sure of yourself,
to win the prize.
The battles of life are not always won by the man
stronger or faster, but sooner or later

who wins is the man who thinks he can win.

And you'll win!
I believe in you!

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Nicole Miami Beach Bang Bros

Delivered ... Cover

The question of degree ... We'll make it for December??

Diwali Greeting In Sindhi

Respirazione.

Eko121 & Sumo Diggin 'in Rome part.2

A preview of some of my tracklist BeatTape entitled "True Feelings "

1.Let In Love (Intro)

2.Makin 'Love

3.Love Before

4.She Talks

5.Can U Feel It ?

6.Keep On

7.Walking On The Moon

8.Mvmnt

9.El-O-Vee

10.Spaceship

11.Breathe.

.....and moreee.

Storm Of Zehir Help?

"This memory I would tell." Mario Giacomelli.

... Ten years after his death.

"I have my hands caress the face"

Scanno (Abruzzo)

If I lived one day if I could live

.

If I live I'll never know if it was true.

close my eyes and see me die.

There will be neither before nor after.

I will leave my portion in a closed garden of dreams

and in all places in all the ways

will stand to tell the other side of my life

where he died the death

...

They'll never know if it was true.

Mario Giacomelli

This portrait has made Paola Biagetti.

It 's the picture of an artist: Mario Giacomelli who works, or should I say, passion and sense of craft, worked in a printing [Today at this location is a store that sells ... I do not remember, something ... and every time we step in front of me seems to have lost the usual time. It was in my view, a memory to store].

The world knows what has been for Mario, that is a great photographer, and I, who live in this town for twenty years, I met him in person, I have often seen walking through the course, I saw him stuck behind the counter of the printing is too small to contain all that was inside. I talked a few times, and I learned later, much later, in New York as well as in Tokyo, via Paris, the man was known and appreciated for his photographs. He questions as to the secondary, did not seem to give it weight. I know people (who do not know ...) that is sewn on with pride, often excessive and out of place, the label of "artist", and he, who had the titles, nothing! Not a pose, no nothing.

A kind man, available, with eyes full of wrinkles and stories that today we are allowed to see through his art. You guessed even in the midst of the crowd along the streets of the city, that cloud of white hair that framed her face, and created a special volume all around. Sometimes I imagined it in black and white, as he himself was a picture. In fact, there are many portraits (like the picture I posted above) that have made him a very interesting artistic subject.

also I love the originality of the dilution of who chose for his photographs, titles evoking contexts, feelings clear: "I have my hands caress the face," a " man, a woman, a love "," A Silvia "," Homage to Spoon River "," Death will come and will have your eyes "," Happiness is attained walk "," My head is full mom, "" Moon widow "" This I remember him telling "...

The list is much longer and more detailed course. And since I am not an expert but only a passionate, I want to do in this blog is to remember the Mario day of the tenth anniversary of his death, because remembering is a bit 'to make life. Of course I hope to be of interest to someone that maybe before you read the blog did not know him, and now wants to learn more. And who knows, you only one way to cool ideas.

http://www.mariogiacomelli.it/

I invite you to visit the site, to know this great artist, because it is a feast for the eyes, even when it comes to heavy subjects, like the scenes in the asylum . There are beautiful models posing in between his shots. Only real life, its history and people who have it carved in the face, body ... a lived body, without any reason for shame or inadequacy, as the marketing would have us believe today insistently.

The wrinkle is not "poetic", it's just a wrinkle, and the body is not beautiful or ugly, but a vehicle of life, a "witness" to which the black and white, paradoxically, gives more color and intensity. The models want the pouting, no smiles. His still lifes finally, at times reminiscent of the paintings of Giorgio Morandi, while in some photos of the rural areas, sometimes as photographed from topographic maps, I learned that, for reasons I do not know, make me think of Van Gogh

His passion for photography grows with the friends of the group photograph Misa .

Advocate Cavalli, which was an important guide for Giacomelli, speaks of this association as a group "modest" that avoids any form of publicity and controversy " short ... trying to keep us out ... the usual diatribes about realism? Abstract? Lyricism? Controversies that are, many times only to disturb those who desire to work. We are happy, however, be left in peace to our work. What is a work quietly it takes time to form a conscious artistic taste; it takes time to remove the young technical defects, defects of style, the easy abandonment of a sentimental way, for example him understand but feeling that Chopin is "The blonde in gondoleta" is sentimental ... sentimentalism leads to oleography, as intellectualism, especially if they come from ill-digested notions, leading to the desert, I mean desert poetic ...."

This statement made me think once more to the boundary line that exists between those who create art and who, on the other side of a danger in seeking a definition.

Association Misa is placed before (in the national competition) among all Italian associations, and I am sure that many inhabitants of the city, still do not know anything.

still add a small selection of the interview released by Horses:

"Yes, it is a great success, but not the only one. In the same national competition, one of our partner, Mario Giacomelli , won the first prize with the complexity of its operations, among all participants. Winning with a complex of works is to be able to demonstrate a personality .... but now if you want a more effective in our climate, go have a chat with Giacomelli. You know him, be sure working in his small printing ... "

Giacomelli, commented:

" Of course I'm happy to have won a national competition. Especially since photographer only about a year. photography I love to feel that it is impossible for me to express my feelings. It is not always easy, there are also technical difficulties, such as when a sometimes talking is not the right word to express what's inside, so sometimes you would like to photograph but I can not say. I am grateful to Cavalli that since my first steps I have always encouraged and supported. I believe that many young people in Italy who are grateful. He leaves us free to follow the way we like, more than simply advise us in choosing and supervising the taste. It is wise that the guide is illustrated by the fact that it was he who select jobs at the national competition that I have done, with great joy to win. Say it for pleasure because I know I have given him some comfort. And I'm happy. "

"Death will come and will have your eyes"

Pietro Donzelli instead gave him this advice, which the photographer will always be very faithful:

"I always try to summarize in a few elements of his argument, invent photographs, its sensitivity certainly suggest them to him. Sometimes just a sound or voice within us to create an image or character. They tell these people, first to himself, then others with a slide show ... It will be tough on his way, how hard my because melancholy is not always accepted by those who seek to escape it. But remember that the path of the artists is made only of sadness and pain. Come to comfort the sorrow of others ... Make every now and then a staff trying to tell in pictures .... "

"This I remember him telling"

"Homecoming" is a series of photos made in 2000, the year of his death, and inspired by a poem by George Caproni:

I returned the '

I had never been.

None as it was

has changed.

on the table (sull'incerato

squared) mezzanine I found the glass

never filled. Everything is still left as

never had left.

Hello Mario.

Congratulate A Pregnant Mother To Be

Unibo

A note for those who now had to deal with the thesis. Wandering googleggiando sites and a bit ', I found this title in latex produced by the Faculty of Physics and Mathematics. It might be useful to standardize all the theses, because everyone at the moment, can do as he wants and sometimes may even find it difficult to achieve the latex. The choice is yours ... I have used and is very cute.

Tip: If you have one or more co just replace the part

{\\ large {\\ bf Rapporteur: \\ \\

Chiar.mo Prof. \\ \\

ASSESSOR NAME}}

with

{\\ large {\\ bf Rapporteur: \\ \\

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ASSESSOR NAME}} \\ \\

\\ vskip 8pt

{\\ large {\\ bf Supervisor: \\ \\

CO-NAME}}

Possibly also see the site http://internet.unibo.it/tesi-latex .

My Military Retirement Pay

News Today

Un piccolo post per qualche news degli ultimi giorni / ultima ora:

- TODAY: Compleanno di mia mamma, TANTI AUGURI MAMMINA!!!!

- TODAY: Updated my google site and my CV.

- THESE DAYS: Doing my master's degree thesis. But it's been taking long time to be finished.

- THESE DAYS: My macbook pro continues going slower and slower, I think it stops working very soon.

So.. that's all folks. See you soon

Wedding Program Thanking Guests Verse/poem

Anna Akhmatova. Poems.

[Untitled]

shook hands under the dark veil .. .

"Why are pale today?" Because of bitter sadness

I drank binge.

How can we forget? He went staggering,
mouth a grimace of pain ...
courses without touching the railing,
ran after him to the door.

Suffocating, I cried, "It 's been
a joke. If I die you go."
He smiled calmly, cruel
and said "Do not just stand in the wind"

1911

Who is Anna Akhmatova ?

One of the most important poets of the twentieth century Russia.

born in Odessa in 1889, and died in Moscow in 1966.

loses her first husband in 1934 . Shot for counterrevolutionary activity.

For the same reason, also lost many of his poet friends, who end up in Stalinist Gulag.

lost his only son Lev , which in 1938 is jailed awaiting a death sentence. And every morning, for seventeen months, the Akhmatova goes outside the prison to hear from him. [ Requiem, is a poem that comes from this dramatic experience that is shared with hundreds of other mothers]

His poetry was born intimate and sentimental, but time and experience the history that is stolen husband, son and friends, leading to an art that chronicles the sufferings of an entire people.

The regime hindered (obviously) the publication of his work branded pessimism of neurotic and erotic sick, but she survived. His word is still strong and clear. Simple and powerful. Particular, because it tells of his land, his beloved Russia, as well as general mechanisms guess because I'm a bit 'of all countries, all of the abuses. The constant

schemes, remember always, was, is and always will be a natural tendency to silence the arts (writing, acting and singing) and all the places responsible for their dissemination and circulation. Schools, museums, community centers. We also remember that the most beautiful art of all times and all cultures is that which arises in opposition to the schemes, why? It 'more painful, is more conscious. Specific ideas and requires a precise location.

I loved this writer from the start. I was in town for a reason and I do not remember, (actually it was the March 8) someone read his poem "A lot". Since then I never stopped reading and rereading his poetry, I play in my head like something that should not be forgotten ever.

MANY
I am your voice, the warmth of your breath,
the reflection of your face,
compartments of beating wings in vain ...
does the same until the end I'm with you.

why you love so greedy
me in my sin, my bad, because
affidaste me blindly
the best of your children;

not because you asked him,
ever, and my empty house forever
Smoky velaste of praise.

And they say: you can not merge more closely,

you can not love more passionately ... How do you want the shadow

detached from the body, as

wants to separate the flesh from the soul,

so now I want to be forgotten.
1922

Lot's wife

"Now Lot's wife turned around to look

and became a pillar of salt"
Genesis, 19.26.

It was the right behind the messenger of God,
huge and bright, the black mountain, but sound
spoke to his wife the anguish:
"It's not too late, you can still see

The red towers of your native Sodom, the square where
hand, the Court where filavi,
empty windows of the other house, where the
dear husband gave birth to children "

He turned, and bolted to a stranglehold,
could not see his eyes more;
of salt made the diaphanous body,
shook the earth's nimble feet.

Who will this woman crying?
may not seem the slightest loss?
My heart just will never forget those who
life for such a unique look.

1922-24

Last toast

I drink a collapsed house,
to my wretched life, lived in solitude in
two
and drink to you:
lips of deceit betrayed,
the dead cold of your eyes,
a crude and cruel world,
to a God that saved us.

1934

[Untitled]

But I warn you that I live
for the last time. Neither

as swallow, or as maple, or as
rush, either as star or as
spring water, or as the sound of bells

upset people, and not
will visit the dreams of others with a groan
insatiable.

1940

RELEASED

Pure Wind rustles the tree
pure snow covers the countryside.
no longer hear the pitch of the enemy,
lies my land.

1945

THE WILLOW

"And the decrepit beam tree"
Pushkin

I grew up in a silence guilloche,
in an airy room of the new century.
I was not loved the man's voice, but I understood that
wind. I loved
burdock and nettles, and more than any other
a silver willow.
Thankfully, he lived with me
whole life, breathing dreams
weeping branches with my insomnia.
strange thing, now survive. There
protrudes strain,
extraneous items and talk about something other willows
under that sky, in our sky.
I am silent ... as if it were a brother died.

1940

[Untitled]

not your love I wonder.

is now in place convenient.

Stanne but certainly jealous

not write letters to your girlfriend. But

accepts the sage advice:

by to read my verses, to guard

from my portraits,

engaged couples are so polite!

and has more to these scioccherelle

fully enjoy a victory that

luminous words of friendship,

and the memory of the first, sweet days ...

But when the beloved friend

have experienced change of joy and soul

already satisfies all of a sudden seem a burden, do not go to my

nottte triumphant. Do not

conoscco.

And what can I help you?

From happiness I do not heal.

1914

Wrong Placement Of Iud

"The Tiger" by William Blake

Tiger! tiger! Burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

...In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?

Tiger! Tiger! Burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

                                                                              William Blake

Tigre! Tiger! Burning bright,
in the forest of the night,
What immortal hand or eye could
to forge thy fearful symmetry?

... In what distant deeps or skies
burned the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he hover?
What the hand dare seize the fire?


And what shoulder and what art,
managed to twist the fibers of your heart?
And when thy heart began to beat, what fearsome
hand and foot as scary?


What the hammer? What the chain?
In what furnace was thy mind?
What the anvil? What terrible power
dares to grab his mortal terror?


When the stars threw their spears on the ground
and flooded the sky with their tears
he smiled to see his work?
was he who made the lamb make up too?


Tigre! Tiger! Burning bright,
forest of the night,
What immortal hand or eye could
to forge thy fearful symmetry?

William Blake [1757-1827]
As is often the case in the history of literature, a reputation for an author to come back, so did William Blake that when he dies almost ignored in the sphere of painting, and not very well known for his poetry, which breaks with the classical patterns of the eighteenth century, creating works less didactic, didactic and set relative to the times. Imagination, which is the most exalted among the virtues romantic, in a role he should not be underestimated. This is his idea about it: The Fall of Man
not be attributed to apple (Eve and their disobedience ) but the fact that the reason has imposed on the imagination, confining a man in his senses, and placing it in a fight against his fellow man for greed and power, and so he finds himself living in a world that is only weak shadow of the real world and eternal imagination. So what is the imagination ? And 'the ability to see deeper into the life of things, and this ability is typical of the child (innocent, net of experiences that make it "learned" and therefore, be prudent.) But also of the poet, that is, a man capable to live, or to preserve its original innocence.

The poet, Blake (as Hugo in France), sees him as a prophet that his generation has to wake up and bring it to the world of imagination. (Remember that, historically speaking, we are still close to the "age of reason, that the era of the classics, ie the time when the art comes from" recipes "creative).

chooses to be guided the Bible and the classics (and their principle of imitation). Its intent is to write a modern Bible, which is based more on form than on the theme . Hence the 'inevitable union of myth and legend bibbliche private.

Some of his famous statements:

"nature of my work is visionary or imaginative." "... If the doors of perception were cleansed, everything would appear for what it is, infinite" [if you hear echoes of Jim Morrison on the film "The Doors" ... it makes perfect sense!] Dice also " explicitly to what can be an idiot, does not deserve my attention . Finally, "all I know is in the Bible." This gives us enough to know that his art is full of symbols, deliberately complex, rich in metaphors. The Bible is by definition the place where meaning and significance are tinged with ambiguity.

"Songs of Innocence and Songs of Experience", are two collections of poetry in the 1789/1794 and summarize the essence of human and artistic. In this unique book, the associated write the image to create something profoundly new and visionary.

Language is simple but the symbolism is complex. The poems are short (20/25 for each of the two collections) and are united by a common inspiration, as well as structural interconnections desired by Blake.

innocence and experience are the two boundaries "natural" man, the two opposing states of being. If innocence is the ideal man, she is typical of the child and the poet, as I said. Experience is the following stage, that is growth. The price to pay is next to happiness (which is typical of innocence) is known suffering. In fact you can not choose, because life without against the stops.

According to many critics, the two poems that best tell this dualism is unsolvable:

The lamb (sheep) [Songs of innocence] and

The Tiger (the tiger) [Songs of Experience]

The two poems answer the question "Who made thee ?" (Who created you?) The poet is amazing that the creator of the lamb, a symbol of good, innocence and purity, has also created the tiger, which is its opposite, a symbol of evil, 'aggression, yet so fascinating.

In fact, the "virtue" sheep, the man derives from reason, which "forces" instinct. The sheep, in hindsight, is a symbol of liabilities (and the metaphor bibbliche remember over and over again, from sacrificed "Lamb of God").

The tiger however, as well as intimidating, embodies the new symbol of human energy, which emerges in spite of the moral and social repression. Instinct, therefore, the propensity to act is stronger than that in the tiger in sheep.

Sheep and Tiger, as good and evil, innocence and experience, they end up representing an irreducible duality of human beings, and this idea reminds the foundations upon which "The Flowers of Evil" by Baudelaire, 1857, only a few years after Blake's (and of course, in France rather than England.)

(the rest of the refrain. .. saving me not to abuse the patience of others!)