Game Called Cube On Primary Games

Stasera non esco

Ku.
Doppia vù.
E.
Erre.
Ti.
Ipsilon.

I soliti tasti di sempre. Un po’ consumati, è vero.
Mi fanno compagnia, le mie dita ormai li conoscono come fossero le loro estensioni. Non molto lontano da qui c’è gente che mi maledice per l’ennesimo bidone. “Scusatemi. Scusatemi tanto.”
Sapete come sono fatto. Troppo proud, fatalistic. At the same time I give to my usual weaknesses. Get dressed, go downstairs, start the car: untold hardships. I force myself to bed. In my mind it creates images of the evening that I wanted to live. Mistaken some proportion, some shade of color. But the smiles are there, and I'm even well dressed. Brilliant. Solitude in my reverie does not concern me. The sky and space seem even brighter, and not remain deaf as empty here.

close my eyes in the dark.
And back to see his facial features are perfect. My hands slide from my hips to the sheets. Pat the cotton, I try to evoke the memory of the skin under my fingers. Sculpt illusion light of the contours of an ear, the perfect china for a neck, the curve of her cheekbones, I try to imagine the knot in a hug, to breathe the same air-time and shared secret with her.

I open my eyes in the dark.
I just have the weight on the folds of my mouth. From the window come the whispers of the night, tired and a wind that takes my nagging feeling the heat. Voices from the other room with television, there's no one beside me in my bed and I'm really close to a square.

I stay seated.
I still have time to dress, to go down the stairs to start the machine. I just have to start doing. The others are there to curse me for not being arrived.
I am reminded that I do not want anyway, I do not think that I helped. As a raft find the old thinking that leads me to this room. Where there's a chair, a desk, a monitor, keyboard of the computer: I can sculpt this time.

Ku.
Double You.
E.
Erre.
Ti.
Ipsilon.

Outer Banks Vacation Rentals

Spazi fra lettere

Get

. Get a sheet. Get a large sheet. Get a large sheet of paper. Get the paper. Get a sheet of paper. The paper. The paper extended: take it. In sheet. Take it. Get a sheet.
of paper.

Shut up.
Shut up. Look.
Watch.
Shut up.

Watch.

Il bianco! Bianco, bianco, bianco. Foglio. Bianco.
Bordo. Pezzi del tavolo. Bordo bianco. Il bordo non esiste. Foglio, aria. Marrone. Bianco. Foglio.
Tavolo.

Ecco. La matita. La penna. Il pennarello. I pastelli rovesciati. L’odore del pastello. Il legno. Il riflesso sull’acrilico. Il sapore della grafite. La rugosità del legno. La puntità degli scarti del temperamento della punta della matita. Il temperamento della matita. La matita. La mano. La matita.
Il foglio.
La mano.
La matita.

La mente.
Qualcosa di sublime. Subito!

“Non distingueva le ombre degli occhi dallo stagnante riverbero estivo. La costrizione dei minuti si stemperava in vague swirls un'involontà declared authentic, but in fact yield nothing but smoke odor, a feeling so filling the spaces not appear clear and distinct, or present. Cullavasi impression of shades of sounds, voices and colors, vivid memories and indifference among swing this without horizons. "

and arrived four gendarmes, with plumes and with weapons. Get

. Fold. Get. Squeeze, bend. Open twist. Remove them.
Silence, noise, silence. Memory. Get

.
Get a sheet.

Tear.

Yeast Infection Cryotherapy

Grida soffocate

I would like to run an email I received thanks to Alessandra.

I do not know whether it is a genuine witness, but in Italy at this ridiculous and bad, I find that what you described is to be terribly plausible. Forgive me if I wanted to correct some capital and some punctuation here and there.

But do not forgive the mistakes of shortsighted rulers of the misfortunes of others are laughing.



THEY DO NOT WRITE, YOU RUN

Yesterday I used the phone to a debt collection company, on behalf of Sky, which is saying girlfriend in September 2009. I wonder why. I say that from April 4 of last year I left my house and there I have returned, because of the earthquake; Sky decoder lies crushed under the weight of a wall collapsed.

Mutes. So I apologized and says he will do what I have said this to the proper authorities, then, caring and asked me if now, after a year, everything is fine. He tells me to love my city, has had the good fortune to visit a couple of years ago, and was fascinated. I remember in particular a paved stairs leading down from the Cathedral to the Basilica of Collemaggio. I salt the lump in my throat, I tell her that I lived there. She fell silent again. Then he asked me to tell what is my city now. And I do.

The story of the old garrison. The story that I can not go to my house whenever I want. The story, However, the thieves go there undisturbed. The story of the buildings left there to die, that there is no money to rebuild, and that there are not any help for us to survive. The story from the July 1 return to pay taxes and contributions, even if we do not work. We will pay the ICI and mortgages on houses destroyed and evenly spread the payments of loans, even for those who have nothing. That in July an earthquake with a gross salary of € 2000 will see payroll of € 734 net pay. And not only that we return to pay taxes, but will return immediately all those not paid by April 6. That the state does not pay to twenty-seven thousand people homeless, who are managed by themselves, even that small contribution of € 200 per month which should help them pay rent. That rents have tripled without any control. What I pay in a village of five hundred souls, as Bertolaso \u200b\u200bpaid for an apartment in Via Giulia in Rome.

I hear heavy breathing. The talk of the new neighborhoods built at a price of luxury homes. The life story of the people living there, as in hives without a soul, without even a newspaper or a bar. The story of the elderly who have been uprooted from their land miles away, the professionals who have left. Enrollment in secondary schools in sharp decline.

The story of a dying town and she was like, his voice trembled: "it is possible that you do not know any of this. You can not stay that way. Call the television journalists. You have to tell you, call the press. They have to write it. "