Diagram Of Sailing Boat With Parts Named

changing city, water drops

How long blue-sky this
'll probably living it with you while
the window diagonally
line the rain, forming labile
topographies in which the first thought
is to find a place for keeping your
with a thousand faces.
anxiety accommodating the canvas gets lost as it runs so

labyrinthine streets and I'm looking for you
in changing the city's water drops.

In these verses Vittorio Bodini find the meaning and the pain of the migrant's journey while not giving back, they, direct reference to any travel. The
because of this strange association of ideas is linked to a specific episode of my life, the story of an impossible love, she wrote these lines in pencil on the inside cover of The Unbearable Lightness of who lent me so I read it, train travel in yet farewell (but every time it was a replica of an interminable farewell).

belongs a bit 'all the melancholy of a thousand lines of heavy rain on the windows where the eye rests, a prisoner of nostalgia and lead in his chest.
And this state of mind is lost in the ephemeral topographies of water drops. In the mysterious and ever-changing city.
Every trip is a desire for freedom that contains within it a sense of loss.

Bibliography
Vittorio Bodini, Poetry, Publisher
leave Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being , Adelphi

Images
1 Carmelo Bongiorno-picture
2-3-anonymous
anonymous

Play Tanning Waxing Gmaes

Chesil Beach

Chesil Beach, or the inability to communicate, McEwan paradigm. Enough to recall our previous novels, beginning with the lucky Atonement.

Communicate what you / we are inside. And we
the inability of words, the tyranny of convention.
Another recurring theme in the fiction of Ian McEwan is the music, here embodied in the activity and life expectancy of Florence Mayhew, the female protagonist of the novel, a talented violinist.

So love, even if said with conviction, lost, crushed by the boulder remained silent, and what the two lovers had to say remains unsaid .
The story takes place in 1962, Puritan England of the conservative MacMillan but the sexual problems of the protagonists, Edward and Florence, engaged in their wedding night, just a good excuse to pay on the majesty of a scene wall whose bricks are the lack of identity of the protagonists, including himself in the role and duties in spite of the male performance anxiety and the fear of ignorance and inadequacy he feels toward the mysterious continent that is the behavioral system of the other, the woman. She, caracollante between the necessary and required duties and the fear and the disgust he feels toward those practices that foreign body and dirty that must necessarily undergo.
But the unknown is that those bodies are, in reality, the metaphor of solitude to which we are doomed.
Neither the study of history, for Edward, or music in which he excels in skill, to Florence, appear to be valid alternatives to the need of the word, the only means capable of giving meaning to our lives of astronauts loneliness. But the word need not dense cluster of houses in the noise report and its research requires intellectual effort and courage, those whose absence will deprive Edward and Florence of their right to a happy life.
In the novels of Ian Mc Ewan there is a growing sense of inevitability of events and the inability to expiate the errors, the overriding sense of the passage of time along a groove free of singularities. No forgiveness is possible, no replay.
The novel closes with a rush that captures the nostalgic narrator the future in the flow of the two young protagonists.

If he thought she was surprised a bit 'to go away leaving the girl with the violin. Now of course he knew that his proposal to stay on the sidelines was rather pretentious. It needed only to be sure that he loved her, to feel reassured that there was no hurry, having a busy street in front. Love and patience, ah, if only they had discovered them at different times, they would certainly help to overcome everything. So who knows what children ever born would have had their chance, as a wonder of a child with the clip in her hair would become his treasure house. Here's how the course of a lifetime may depend ... by not doing something. On Chesil Beach, Edward was able to draw Florence, or follow it. He did not know, and neither wanted to find out, that running away, secure in his desperation to be on the verge of losing it, Florence had never felt so in love and awe, and the sound of his voice would have achieved as a salvation, which would certainly be turned away. Edward instead remained impassive in his virtuous silence, in that summer twilight, watching her run away on the beach, while the lapping of small waves covered the sound of his feet and tiring Florence was reduced to a blur in flight sull'interminabile straight pebbles glittering in the dim light.

[ Ian McEwan, Chesil Beach ]

Bibliography :
Ian McEwan, Chesil Beach, Einaudi 2007

Discography:
Beatles, One, Emi

I mages :
Fotofrafie of Berengo Gardin Gianni

White Initiation Dress 2010

weekend with a good book

invigorating and I'm enjoying a lazy weekend Salento.
This morning, a brief tour (2 hours) along the coast. Start with light due to adverse storage clouds looming. Fortunately, in the vicinity the coast, the sun could get a glimpse of light through which flood the landscape, revived vivid colors. After
Castro, first stop in Porto Miggiano , populated by the presence of a number of fishermen on Sunday that in the light, silhouetted against the mist like dead trees.

the second stage tower of the Serpent, the symbol of Otranto , before returning home. On the way back stopped the gift of the sun to the undersigned, new clouds stretched the curtain. Under the tower
, like a lizard, I am left stroke thinking from the sun on the novel by Maria Corti that from the legends of the tower dipanò Idrusa story.

Travel Notes:
the soundtrack of the excursion is a series of valuable unpublished Vinicio Capossela . Amazing songs in the lyrics, firmly planted in the southern pain.

females ... females
Why go to the harvest to harvest

Why go to the Under ceppone, below the ceppone Fri
the facetious facetious to do ... I do ...
Who is that there 's said
Who told you that

to plant sweet potatoes, sweet potatoes
always working, always work and nun
Buscate
bread and bread nun Buscate

Do not ask me the title, maybe not even exist.

Last night, in the library, two purchases:

Carmelo Bene Enrico Ghezzi (written in titotlo just like that, case insensitive), Speech on two feet (calcium ) , Bompiani Steps

Anthony Errico , Travel Finibusterrae , The Salento boundaries between passions and , Manni.

Carmelo Bene about baseball as if he were speaking of Dante or, say, Caravaggio, managing to raise the national pedalatoria practice to the level of pure art, like a King Midas that everything touches turns to gold. Antonio Di
Errico, a discourse on Salento seen in his suspension from the actual site and place of the soul and its contradictions often circumvented by the myth that seems to wrap it with your eyes or nostalgic foreigners.

Finally, I conclude this report with an odd thought for the wonderful novel I just finished reading,

Ian McEwan , Chesil Beach, Einaudi

A novel built around the word, words which are suitable and appropriate style of writing that word and Mc Ewan, who said that one word does not change the itinerary of a life, destroys the happiness of an individual. A beautiful novel, specific gravity important, beyond the My personal passion for Ian Mc Ewan.

Bibliography:
Ian Mc Ewin , Chesil Beach, Einaudi
Carmelo Bene, Enrico Ghezzi, Speech on two feet (football) , Bompiani
Steps Antonio Errico, Travel to Finibusterrae. The passions and boundaries between Salento , Manni
Maria Corti, time for any , Bompiani

Discography:
Vinicio Capossela , New, unknown label

Images:
1 - Porto Miggiano , photos Marotta
2 - Porto Miggiano , photos Marotta
3 - Porto Miggiano , photos Marotta
4 - Otranto, Torre del Serpe , photos Marotta
5 - Otranto, Torre del Serpe , photos Marotta

Games Like Wild Thornberry Rescue Game

Solitude standing

I try to erase all traces of me along the way,
every indication that refers to my step. Seeking
size invisible. Absence of desire, memory
fading fading total
the ever claim that the plea of \u200b\u200bhis right ..

Yet I should look for the 'immortality, they say,
is what you yearn, for that matter. But not me. I, for myself,
total oblivion. Biodegradability hundred percent.

not a photograph should remain,
delude themselves that the photographs to preserve the lives
breath often invoking the memory. But they know that poor memory
raise! Tired
skeleton, the plaster smell of death. All
will burn, lost in a thousand sparks.

My oblivion
serious massive star imploded on the train calming
desirable numbing agony of remembrance

In this little corner of the blog does not pass any more now, and perhaps The time has come to close the blinds and I enjoy this dim light of thought and full of flavor, with eyes half-closed and peace in your heart.
Bright Eyes music ready and waiting for me to hug me. What else might need, I do not know but I'm happy with the serenity that I had a gift, with nothing expect.

Loneliness is the door of consciousness but also the merciless reminder of nothing. After all, is our truest dimension. In it you can see life in its most discreet way. If only it were possible to overcome the anguish of his presence, be propitious to us the hidden architecture of our existence as individuals.
Solitude, seen as a disease in this age that rejects it because it does not serve the economic and social system.
At times I just wind the thread of light that passes through the clarinet.

Readings
Salvatore Toma, Canzoniere death , Einaudi 2005

Music
Miles Davis, Essential, Emi

Images
1 - Mario Giacomelli , Death will come and will have your eyes, 1957
2 - Mario Giacomelli, Gypsies, 1957
3 - Mario Giacomelli, Gypsies, 1957