Birkenstock Frankfurt

Goticoprogressive

Dark is the time for hope.
Ofelia takes her dance macabre
where genius and insanity meet their
steps.

Gallstones In Unborn Babies

The Poison of the Mighty p.1

A trill echoed in the mind of George awakening from his troubled sleep. The hangover of the night before he fell in his head as un'aceta on the trunk of wood. "Wine of shit" he thought to himself while preparing to pick up the phone. "Come now is urgent" thunder a voice on the other side of the receiver.

barely rose out of bed to go to the bathroom, "I need a good fucking bitter coffee!" He said.

reappeared in the minds and memories dim uneven. With a slight smile, she saw her vomiting on the shoes of the girl who was with him "was not even much, never mind, "he said.

The preparations were always an occasion for reflection and convictions, his life was now marked by work and alcohol. "A shitty job leads to a life of shit" is always justified, more than anything to not be aware of his state of inveterate alcoholics. The reality was no longer understandable, the result of alcohol that saturates his veins.

"Hey Gio, what the hell have you done?" Said the same voice he heard on the phone "you seem to be run over by a train," he laughed.

"Stay calm," he thought, "You know I met your sister back home, nice '

"Thanks," he retorted.

"What the fuck you thank me asshole" said his mind much disturbed by dementia.

"We have a gift for you in Via dei Condotti, I would recommend is the matter with the utmost discretion."

"Okay Franco!" He said.

"Fuck," echoed his mind.

Get in the car thinking back to his eleven years on the streets to get an ass like a hut and then take orders from the first graduate of the CEPU shit.

"C'est la vie" he whispered.

"Hello Gio, throws you bad see!"

"Hello old man, you stay in shape? What the fuck have we here? The usual junkie overdose? "

" No Giò, see for yourself "

S 'bowed and lifted the sheet that covered the helpless figure" DICK! "He said.


WMC

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A tiny little man ...

Louis also died today ... FIP continues its inexorable path. Death continues to head with his grin tragic in my life. Escape the pain with all my strength and energy, as the younger men ... I hide in vain as the one who runs away from himself without finding a hiding place big enough and safe from their own cowardice. I would be a better man ... I would but I can not really be. So the smallest of the men continued their lives without having to reckon with his own conscience and remorse. If you are not able to deal themselves with no half measures, to the end, you can not express their ideas to the rest of the world ... every word would be out of tune and hypocritical, given so much to say.

no excuse why he reduced the penalty ... Feedback to the world from knowing how to judge yourself first. If you are not able to comply with this rule is always better to be silent ... the silence would be certainly more dignified.

Except ...

Swollen Tonsils All The Time

GRAMMAR OF THE DIALECT OF MORNING MORNING

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Who's That Man?

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Life ...

The sharing of time is just a point of contact, a chance encounter. Each of us along this time with all its differences, with all its peculiarities. Everyone is a world apart. We are pilgrims of time, concentrate on our own existence in spite of. A multitude of solitudes that cross that "interact" but retain their uniqueness. ... A beginning and an end in the middle of sharing important or trivial, lightning or sustained, to be our own.

Unless

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Who's this boy? Damn

What Did Deborah Sampson Do

Vintage

Damn

year I was a window cleaner who whistled

ants I saw below me and a window cleaner

whistling in the face on the glass.

The height is not a problem, you get used to. Issa

the table, pulls the rope, take it higher.

Done.

spray, stick and rinse

Done. Damn

year, so every day. Issa

the table, pulls the rope to take it higher.

Whistles, sings, sips the whiskey, so you take it. Damn

year, so every day. Issa

the table, pulls the rope, take it higher.

thirty-seventh floor, I'm easy, so I can stand.

But now I found that I can fly, that the ants are a few billion

and moccasins are not right for work.

Damn vintage, the 2010

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Clean ...

Four stars hairpieces to greet me ... hanging from the sky like thumbtacks. The house seems deserted ... it seems. In recent years I have learned that nothing is ever as it seems at first sight. What a fucking situation ...

I receive assignments with the information I needed ... just the essentials. I do not want to know anything about that somehow keeps me tied to the matter of which I am. Within the old Mat, I take the envelope that I leave and go away ... all within seconds. Quick and clean ... not a chance I call Clean.

spit chewing gum wrapped in paper that, I take a ball and placed it on the dashboard. I went down, I leave the door open and the light switch the car off the mark. I do around the house ... no sign of life. Breath, I know that someone is alert beyond these walls of rough wood ... do not you take your neighbor's wife without having a minimum of "embarrassment" for what you are doing. The woman in question is one of the whores Slim ... saw something last night and is gone. Some mouth in search of easy bucks has spilled all over their "owner" of the goods and I'm here to solve the problem.

Quick and clean ...

The back door was ajar just stinks ... butt of a mile away. Does anyone know 'to receive visits and plans to fuck the fucking guest in this way. Fucking assholes ... and amateurs. There is no respect in this fucking world. Using a 22 silenced, I do not need too much power. On the back of the shed, a small structure that serves as a shed, I suggest the solution. Barefoot, I walk on the roof of the little hut of wood. Silent as a shadow by the window upstairs. ... Darkness is the darkness that comes to visit you, my little bad guys. Clack, flying on my right side and a rolling thunder gust, tells me that these assholes I'm not that stupid. Finish the somersault and three flop shot on the beams that hold the roof. A dull sound of a body goes limp. From below, shouting and shooting randomly at my feet. I get on the lifeless body of the "pigeon" and I crouched around ... hell. I take a chewing gum, the waste and put it in your mouth. Chew slowly ... I relaxes the nerves. Splinters of wood everywhere and whistles of high-caliber bullets that touch me. Silence ... dust and cordite smoke fill the air. The wool I have in my nose filters the air in an acceptable way ... never come without a little 'cotton for the nose in a dusty farmhouse where someone is waiting to make you armed your ass. I feel ... seems to be the first entries in three ... you can see the volume of fire just now. Silent Way towards the stairs where they came from. Granata line ... ... chewing gum. They are out the window. Jump to earth as quiet as a cat. By the back door that left turn. "Hey assholes ... flop flop ... fuck that ass.

I see the girl, bound and hooded head back on us ... the chair as a shield. The explosion is not strong, but the pieces of shit flying everywhere.

Ok ... done. I take the girl leaving her bound and hooded in my head ... I do not trust a bitch. Are shed from the car while the 'light at night.

No trace ... Clean.

Except ...

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Rain ...

I'm sitting on this fucking milestone in the middle of nowhere on that sunny street. I look at the feet of my bag. A storm is coming ... I know. The clouds from the mountains behind me to go off with their load of shit on this plain, overthrow the end of the world between lightning and thunder. Appearance and contemplate the horizon waiting for a small cloud of dust that signals the end of waiting. A front-page newspaper flutters slowly to my feet. I lift the boot block and the sheet. A fool kills motorists on roads that have the misfortune to give a lift to the monster. A slight breeze brings to my nostrils the scent of wet earth rise on the boots ... and the monster of the provincial flies off behind my back to the storm. A slight hum on my head gives confirmation to what I thought. I settle on his hat and wearing a long raincoat. The light takes on a strange pigment and much of the sky changes color. Lead Lead ... sky, low and bad. A small cloud of dust on the horizon gives me an adrenaline rush. Soon I will have company. A few large drops of rain crashing on my hat I cracking. A mighty thunder shook the air around me. The car is now visible. It starts raining thick. The rain always gives me a hand, shake the minds of those who are to protect the passenger compartment. I poor traveler, in that time ...

... I do not look at the camera slows down, pulls me close to a crawl while the flashes above the roar of thunder that stops the machine. You can not go more than a poor under this wrath of God on ... Stop ... stop reverse light off. I have to laugh ... shit.

The car stops next to me. The window goes down and a guy with glasses getting me screams that gives me a lift to the first station service.

thank and smile. Two lightning without thunder this time. A horn sounds and that a trickle of blood coming down abundant along the temple of the type with glasses that have now been shattered.

I sniff the air and watch the horizon ... "thank you ... but I like the rain "...

The rain becomes lighter and closer to the mountains and in the distance behind me, you can barely hear the horn ...

Unless ...

Himehachi Kichiku Kyoudai Ryoujokuki

Patrycja Lech Szałsza

Festival "Infusion" 2010
























The third edition of the Festival "Infusion" reopen its doors to a trip through a path consisting of works in natura.Lo viewer changes his role as observer: the involvement of art becomes the event interaction.
Saturday, August 7, 2010 at
. 18.30, at "La Fattoria Corte" Fortress Valenti

Selva Grossa (Parma).
guest artist: Saxophonist Andrew Olivi-Reggio Emilia.

Watch Los Hombres De Paco Stream

Claudio La Tienda ... From Greece

Claudio does not speak anymore! Vile and mean a disease, one day, took away an entire world from the early years of my life has been "my" world. He made a determined and violent ... a tear that has left a void mocking and insulting a strong body that still persists to exist in spite of everything. One thing has not been able to take away, however, the belief fixed in my memory of what is incredibly difficult to tell the world. The one who taught me to bring to life the stories they tell ... even the most minute and small, one day he stopped to tell. For years I've heard, tireless, the multitude of characters and places from his words that come to life. A debt as big as the universe is what I have now against him. Heritage and a world away precious that I knew through his telling, at an age where everything is mixed without the killer habit of asking if everything is real or mere invention. I remember the Sunday morning when he walked the streets and as a slide, his stories reveal what what I saw, at one time was different. A chronicle and a continuing rebound from the past alive and fascinating account of his words and evidence of the tangible world under my eyes. The world has changed since then, I do not know if the better or worse. One thing is certain, that the present world is infinitely smaller, and that certain stories not be given more attention today. I refer to stories of a simple trip by car, where two hundred kilometers to carry on a wardrobe rack in a persistent rain appeared to be still be an enormous task. I do not know, we lost that special flavor that "seasoned" that world.

For this and not only when I leave from my favorite narrator, I find myself softly pronounce them the nickname of one of his characters, and his smile tenderly, gives me the illusion that everything is still here ... more present.

Claudio Hello Dad ... ... ...

Salvatore

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What is the opposite in fact fits the harmony arises from the difference, and everything generates the conflict.


Heraclitus

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The greatest invention of man ... The

God does not exist. It 's just an invention of man ... some men. It 's the biggest excuse that one could invent. A gulf between humanity in the most definitive possible. If it existed, the rules are due to human sin, would also apply to the rest of creation is not just for humans. Pour forth, we are all "sons" of God It does not. Why the Lion empties his balls without the mandatory requirement of procreation and nobody says anything? Because the wolf kills his opponent to become the leader of the pack and no one says anything? Why send the rats to death their parents to test a new bait and no one says anything? Simple, because God is only for men.

If God does not exist, then the trial and only man. Throughout the animal kingdom does not exist More importantly, only judgments. So what drives the man to deliver continuously defer the others called the trial? I think the answer is: the comparison. The fact that we look for an overlap to the other, to highlight that "overflows", which is different from ourselves. Look for the comforting conformity. It 's just a "game" of overlap to make clear the difference in the change. Here is that in doing so, the delay becomes the mark of error, the defect. If God really existed, I do not think would have made it so simple to his favorite son this dangerous practice. Would put the restrictions, limitations.

God is just an excuse to justify anything but it does not appear to be equally high. Crusades, attacks, censorship and executions, all in the name of God

Well God ... sorry ... I'm not your son!

Unless ...

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Animalonzo

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With Our COMPLIMENTS

Ladies and gentlemen ... sposu up! Just a few hours of our new adventure ... Michele (commentator Journal of the blog). The great thing is that we will not for several days in the middle ... and p, which is no small thing! ;) The local chronicles of that small village called Pirri, and show a nervous husband busy, even the samurai does not sleep quiet for several days because of his constant turn over in bed. Poor, poor samurai Enrica which is our entire understanding.

Happiness ... the only word that counts and you'll wish you tons!

WOC
Giop & Save ...

What Kind Of Bracelets Does Disneyland Have

Mollica ... Polis

My family was poor. When I went to school, I spent in the shop downstairs and I mark it on the book debts of a sandwich. Usually, the sandwich I chose was the smallest that the shopkeeper could be found in the basket of bread. I used to divide as if I were to put in the bread and then I close by telling the shopkeeper that I'd stuffed in school with what I had given my mother. In fact, the sandwich remained empty ... but removing it from the paper which enveloped him, it seemed really a sandwich. I ate quickly and more diverged from the other so that was discovered the little secret.

As often happens, however, even the best kept secret in the world is discovered sooner or later ... and he did the same for mine.

I stole the snack from under the counter and discovered that there was nothing inside the sandwich ... just crumbs.

They understood what it meant that sandwich empty, the rest did not take long to compare them and my shoes, my folder and them my socks and their overblown.

giggles and glances of understanding, were the setting for the passage ... I was at that time that the nickname "crumbs", was used to precisely define ... a beautiful and indelible mark on fire!

I decided not to talk about these things with my mother ... I could solve it without her knowing, without her suffering for her child.

I gritted my teeth for several years. Crump grew and endured patiently.

It was then that I realized what I was stronger than them. The determination of who is right and he knows it was me ... I spent one of their laughter on top and each "crumb" shouted the crowd away, it was yet another confirmation for me than I had reason to think certain things.

The "group" is bad ...

If you are outside it does not have an easy life ... it takes a lot of strength and courage to be able to withstand the constant reference to your person ...

So ... my friends who are out of the group ... courage that the right is on our side!

Except ...

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aberrant and Kafkaesque

And if what is left. If this mess was what is next? These buildings intertwined with each other ... this purple and purple do not know of land in this context. Everywhere you look, not only to recognize what it was ... the chaotic redistribution of matter that was my first home. Yeah .. just as chaotic redeployment "explosion" can do. The life that still persists in its simplest forms, climbing, which continues all'esistere its run regardless of how messed up the world around us.

E 'here and now that ... someone will start all the rope in the mechanism and so ready for another run. The life that never ends, that suit pursuing other paths twisted and uncertain but real. I'm in front of what remains of my world, with the last moments of life in the heart, and I rejoice in seeing that despite all the life is the only owner of this wonderful world ...

Giop & Save ...

Benoit Perreault Trumpet

Revolution ...

E 'and we started a revolution on this beat-five hundred to run after her ... she left. E 'game-by-step charging running like crazy ... no wait ... not looking back. Short of breath to keep up ... me and my buddies these noisy fans and absurd in this attempt.
Revolution ... a word meaning large and swollen, so swollen that difficulty lies in the mouth. One kind word for those who hope in the further, the impossible becomes possible. A bitter word for those who only have to lose with the change, for those who use the building for their own sinister advantage.
And then on the glasses my young friends that the time has come and the smiles will return to bloom in our mouths to make fun of our Executioner who will look with ... under cover of darkness for fear of another's harbinger of silence and lies will come ... If you really
the time of silence, well ... at least that is deafening final and serious ... that is crushing under its own weight this slime that imposes the gag, which censors the other to think more ...
What the thud of our fall does not make them a wink of sleep or spend a peaceful night ... that dawn is just a delay at sunset after their worst nightmare ... So
courage my dear friends ... a toast to the possibility that ... everything happens without any delay with the certainty of being in the heart on the side of right ... this time ...

Giop & Salvo…

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PHOTOS

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. Dr.
Photo Archive. Francesco Stanzione.

Burning Sensation In In Collarbone

HOLY SATURDAY - Procession of the Pieta

protagonist of Holy Saturday is the Pietà, which represents the Madonna seated on a rock, on his knees with the lifeless body of the Son, just down from the Cross.

Pale in sorrow and his face was very young, with tearless eyes now turned to the sky, Madonna seems to be unsure as to why so much pain.

The Sacred Image has been made towards the end of 'the 800 of the master cartapestaio Lecce Giuseppe Manzo, author of three of the mysteries of Taranto (Christ at the Column, Ecce Homo and the waterfall), and represents a' work of great artistic value as beef is a representatives of the most important in view of the craftsmen of Lecce papier mache.

The procession starts from the church of the Purgatory at 17.00 by the Confraternity of Our Lady of Suffrage, built in 1678 when it recorded a widespread cult of the Madonna and the souls in Purgatory.

This began in the early 900 and was held in the early hours of Holy Saturday until 1958, then was brought in the afternoon and only in the years 2001 and 2002 there was an attempt to bring it back at night.

This experience was shelved because it was found that there were few faithful who watched the procession in the hours since 2003 and has returned to 'ride in the afternoon.

severe strokes of the bass drum and the drum roll announcing the procession are the last that is heard in 'years, as the funeral march, moving soundtracks of Holy Week performed by the town band.
The bass drum and the standard are being followed by the devout and successive sisters; this dress with a "dress" black upon which the initials MSS, that the Blessed Virgin Mary of Suffrage. They

before the cross of the men who wear a white coat with black shoulder bag, on which there is a silver medallion with a skull and crossed the shins, the encircled wear a black lace: and the chief "funny" to white.
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Between the two long lines of contratelli appeared in 2007 a new character, which came to AA now fully part of the procession of Piety: the Cyrene.

This is represented by a brother who is wearing a black shirt and his face is covered by a cap of the same color as a sign of penance and not to be recognized, the door shoulder a heavy cross for the duration of the procession and proceed barefoot.

Finally there is the statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary SS. of Mercy, carried on the shoulders with very slow pace, as if to symbolize the sad end of the most intense week of 'year.

The processional route is as follows:

Purgatory Church - Cathedral-street Via Vittorio Veneto - Piazza Garibaldi, Menotti - via De Gasperi - Piazza Regina Margherita - Gramsci course - via Oberdan - Via Duca della Vittoria - over Cotugno - via de Florenza - Piazza Cavallotti - via Carlo Rosselli - via Imbriani - by Pius XII - by ten. col. Fiore - Piave course - the course Jatta - Corso Cavour Piazza Bovio - Carafa course - the course Gramsci - Piazza Regina Margherita - Piazza Cavallotti - Jatta course - via Cathedral - Church of the Purgatory.

We return around 22.00 hours and not beyond, so that the faithful can have time to go to the Easter Vigil which begins at 23.30 in all the parishes in the city.

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- Text by dr. Francesco Stanzione, taken from the writings of Michael Pelicans.
- Photo by dr. Francesco Stanzione.

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PHOTOS

Denise Milani Topless Pic

composition of the procession of the Mysteries in time

The procession of the Mysteries, organized by 'Confraternity of Mount Caramel in the afternoon of Friday, is the oldest among the four who parade through the streets of Ruvo between Good Friday and Holy Saturday.

Until the 50s the number of statues that made up the procession was well above the 'present, because they were the twelve statues that gave life to the Representation of the Sacred Passion of Christ.

Among these statues there were also those S. Peter and Veronica , Currently housed in two different niches in the Church of Carmine.

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Then he went drastically from twelve to only four idols (Jesus at Calvary, Jesus died, the 'Sorrows and the temple with the Holy Wood), probably because no one could scarcely find a sufficient number of carriers.

This can be seen in the photos below (the early '80s, when the procession left the Church of the Redeemer as a result of the restoration of the Chiesa del Carmine).

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the late 80's Camerino Vito Priore, who had the merit of leading the Brotherhood from a very critical period in a renewed way of living the moment confraternal, interpreting the will of the members, decided to increase the number carried in the procession of simulacra, this connection was maintained by his successor, Francesco Priore Sparapano and then you got to number eight, which is the current one.
fact, now the procession is made in Jesus' garden , Jesus column, the cane Jesus, Jesus Calvary , the Crucified, Dead Jesus , 's Sorrows and the temple with the relic of the Holy Wood .
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The procession of the Mysteries and then, from a starting composition of twelve for nearly thirty years' took place with only four simulacra, to reach again the number of eight , a sign of a renewed and renewed love for the traditions Holy Week by the brothers in the Venerable Confraternity of Mount Caramel.

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- Text by dr. Francesco Stanzione.

- Photo Archive of Dr.. Francesco Stanzione.