What Dose The Steel Colored Braclet Mean

'm beginning to think about having a certain capacity to tirarmeli him, the mess. Of course the devastating earthquake of 2007 in Peru was not expected, and it was only a fluke that these two hurricanes have been shot down over Havana, after a summer, just in time cui ci stazionavo io. Mi rendo anche razionalmente conto che tra me e il risveglio dell’orgoglio panarabista ci sono ben pochi nessi causali, eppure eccomi qui - spettatore privilegiato di quella che viene gia’chiamata Primavera Araba.

Il Libano è un’osservatorio d’eccezione: un mese e mezzo fa arrivai in quella che era la nazione più instabile dell’area mediorientale, e paradossalmente mi trovo oggi nella più sicura. Questo perchè in assenza di governo e in piene consultazioni per formarlo, il Libano ha oggi l’occasione di anticipare un’eventuale contestazione prestando attenzione alle richieste del suo popolo. Che poi effetivamente do so remains to be seen, but in the meantime, the Lebanese seem much more focused on the evolution of events excited comment in the other Arab states who worry about the future of their (and look closely, they are right: there have been so many decades in ' eye of the storm this time take the opportunity to see how it looks from outside).

My life in the Middle East and then runs on the tracks of change at the macro level as a witness the historical event, but also to an equally unexpected micro level that unfolds in the newspaper, and which is directly responsible Beirut. The capital is a schizophrenic city, charming and exaggerated at the same time, where the day flows Jerky in a perpetual fast forward. When you get used to today, is tomorrow.

Robert Fisk, a great day my fellow war reporter, summed up this unfinished perpetual motion saying that "in the Middle East sometimes you feel that no event has ever finished a horizon that does not turn the page and never never come the moment when to say enough is enough . It 's true, the Middle East is the certainty of uncertainty, and it is his flamboyant ambassador to Beirut. When something sembra potersi (e doversi) concludere, all’improvviso succede qualche altra cosa ritrascinandoti nel turbine dei colpi di scena, delle melodie senza una conclusione, delle combinazioni all’apparenza impossibili.

Non per forza tutto questo è negativo: sicuramente nella soleggiata capitale libanese non ci si annoia mai, e la vita ha lo spiccato gusto frizzante dell’eterna sorpresa. Ma bisogna abituarsi all’idea, e al fatto che per tirare il fiato non c’è nessuna fine primo tempo.

In questa girandola di emozioni, la mia esistenza qui trova compimento nella ragione per cui mi sono spinto tra tante palme e tanto hummus : ALPHA, the organization I work with, it is finally taking part. Together with my colleague, partner in crime and friend Nina (in addition to being Program Coordinator of the NGO and 'an extraordinary person that helped me a lot of the environment) we are trying to reschedule the organization and implement strategies in the medium and long term, and getting the first concrete results of that washed pluerinnale work in the area of \u200b\u200bideas, energy and enthusiasm is returning to bear fruit. Being co-star of this process is the best training I ever could have asked for an internship, because it transcends the internship: a continuous and challenging to test, meanwhile building their own probable future. That my life is not destined to run out of Lebanon in late May?

In these first forty days of the Lebanon-a place I fell in love, people, lifestyle, food, and the job they came here. Still do not get excited language, excessive presence of French and French (except Marc, mythical boy Nina), the exhaust gas and the prices do not moderate some of the capital. But as they say here, mafi moshkel , no problem.

So everything will disappear in the near beiruttina daring moment of the night, replaced by a new unexpected development of the event.

A hug ephemeral

Tommy

7month Old Baby Coughing And Clearing Throat

No.5 No.4 No.3

A history of water

When I awoke the sun was upon me.

I stood with his head dripping with sweat. Although I was very close to the sea, I could throw myself without fear of drowning.

I lost count of days since I live in a cave in a cliff overlooking the sea.

When I look down I see huge waves crashing against jagged rocks.

I always have a little 'afraid to see this scene, although I know to be safe.

Inside, the cave was dark, the fire was still early. I hoped with all my might that the next night was not so cold.

If you are frozen there is nothing worse having to get up to urinate, and my body, as if to tease me forced me to do it in the middle of the night.

walked toward the cave, unwittingly kicked the empty can of beans that we threw yesterday.

Tot told me it was the fault of those cans when we were there. I could not imagine how so small and silly things could cause such a catastrophe.

The days that passed could be summarized in one: In the morning I was having breakfast with liquid gray Tot synthesized, always told me that inside there was all the nourishment I needed.

After I went to look for firewood.

In fact we had enough wood for centuries to come. In addition to our cave, a small path leading to a grove.

There were many fallen trees, leaves, or none of them had showed signs of sprouting.

I did not want to see beyond those logs fallen, I saw them as the beginning of a long series of visions sad. Where all living things before they collapsed like dead trees and those without lymph.

The fire that lights were few and small. Tot it was not necessary to do so, because the heat could not warm up the entire cave, very humid.

The purpose of a fire was to have a sense of humanity. Tot was a machine, did not understand the pain, suffering, loneliness.

The fire crackled and I stand by, sat clutching the legs of the body until it stops. When the flame was now dead at that point I slumped to one side, then Tot put me on a blanket and slept until the next morning.

These were the nights when I asked for the story, some days I could not help but ask the story.

Tot Before beginning to tell, or rather to repeat, I always make sure that all of his pieces were in place.

took was a bolt in a bad, bad, and a circuit connected to the story changed. It adds details absurd, new players and often a worse final.

If it were not for the story I would have never to survive in this world of water. The point where it seemed we were the only piece of dry land left.

Or at least the part that I could explore, as well as the wood I used for the wood was another steep wall of rocks, and under the deafening sound of the waves.

Perhaps I might even try to go further, perhaps to risk crashing and perhaps find another piece of land habitable. But as I said I was afraid that waiting for me in a performance worse than the dead trees uprooted from the soil.

The story was my moment of relaxation and entertainment. It made me forget where I was, and sometimes, just sometimes, I could find a reason to my life so miserable.

long time ago I was still sleeping in my bed, a deafening roar woke me and I found myself in the cave at that time I was twelve. Now I'll be seventeen, maybe eighteen, but what do I care I could have thirteen.

Tot was beside me, a robot that apart from the two slender arms and legs are not much different than a toaster.

while recovering consciousness I heard a sound out of its slot located in the middle of his robotic body. 'History' felt 'Do not forget the history, a history of water'.

was a long process to understand what had happened, I realized that I had been living with a kind of multi-robot as a companion. It was called Tot, created in the lab was over, for no apparent reason, with me in that hovel.

The past is often confused with this, especially when you spend days are always the same.

Tot was there the evening, I sat in front of him with the fire in the middle. My appetite increase if mentioned, immediately went to when I thought what I should eat. Tot summarizing those meals from the ground, which said to be full of food. Avoid eating too many cans of beans when possible, now it had been only ten.

So if I offered to eat often said of my head, and asked him to go immediately to tell the story.

Before Tot started feeling a rattle coming from his body of metal, as if in someone or something was scraping a wall.

When told the story his voice changed, it was the voice of a person, a woman. That was another reason that pushed me to listen to the story, I had not lived long before the disaster the world, I understood only now than he could raise a woman's voice, even if registered.

And so, with the sea as background for the story began: 'This is a story of water. From the water we came. The water has surrounded the last days ... "

When the story was finished barely kept me from throwing myself into the ocean, where my mother was waiting for me ...

Tonsillitis Right Tonsil

In Memory Metal

have a squeaky arm is not the worst problem for a man of metal. In my life I have encountered several difficulties in adapting to the world.

Our planet, though highly technical, is not the ideal environment for inorganic beings like me.

is always yawn when I'm at work. Do not ask why they scheduled the option yawn to an entity without a heart.

The condemnation of man is the thought and not happy to be the only one at a discount, he passed to us: Metals thinking. When

pass on the street, despite our appearance is similar to a human being, people are known and there with his finger tip. Of my series do not try to cover my synthetic nature.

Many try with all means at their disposal to go unnoticed. I speak not only of artificial skin that change every day, but the things of which they speak. I once heard a metal thinking, sitting in a bar at a table next to mine, trying to make his speech can be more intellectual. He wanted to explain abstract and absurd interpretation of ancient philosophical theorems, demonstrating its experience in the field.

I wanted to get up, go to him and say, "you're just metal." I know that would not be useless. It would probably be shot on the other hand, pretending to not having seen or heard.

I will not hide my essence robotics and artificial. They are the result of several experiments, are not human nor do I want to be.

The arms were uncovered, I try to wear less clothing as possible, I do not feel the cold because I use them? I do not put the muffler on my joints creak, squeak, making noise for me is fine.

not I train in gyms to simulate facial expressions human. Some spend all their savings in private coaches expressive.

not seeking work in offices or in fashion. When they built the aim was to create the beasts of burden, real mules which give the weight of all work disturbing.

I look favorably on those who enroll in art school, thinking that their brain has been made even the synthetic pattern of creativity.

Humans tolerate us because we all have a system installed in the brain off. This little mechanism is nothing but a microbomba that destroys the brain, leaving intact the memory. We can go out, eat, drink or smoke and have sex even among ourselves and with humans. If any of us, however, touches the limit of a button is enough to remove it.

We build as adults, often commissioned by someone. We do our job, then if our owners want to stay alive and become independent.

We are the lucky ones. They have been created after working a year and are issued with a permanent visa. They begin a new life where they have the right to work, a house and a family in a certain limit.

sure why anyone would take a couple of Metals thinking a human child. We are too inexperienced to be able to do such a thing. Our life expectancy is twenty-five years. Children's children are born and die. I am my twenty-third year of age will not be long before the circuit in my spine ends its warranty. When that happens will the jackals of the company and I take it down to reuse the parts. My independence is based on this small chip. Useless to try to change the date engraved on it, any attempt to guarantee access to break-outs, thus shortening my life.

So why try to look stupid that you are not? If you were born an object can not become a man. As I said first humans have dumped upon us their convictions worse: the thought and hard work.

After generations have understood that it was time not to be the only ones to bear the burden of consciousness to exist. Somebody had to take this weight in my hands and drag them over. Metals thinking we are aware of our death, because we know exactly when it arrives. We try to understand things beyond our reach, we are aware that we live well without thinking, but we will not feel excluded. We are afraid that something may happen to our bodies, not fear of pain, but the fear of having to admit to ourselves that we are not a somebody, but a something.

When we make sex with a man we have the fears by providing more than a virgin girl of fifteen, but not the same enthusiasm. We hope that in their wailing they say our name would say that the person they love.

I have loved, or as in the formulas used by us, I think I loved. Involuntarily the logic is crucial for us. Based on the concept of our inhumanity can not say I feel, I know, but I think I feel or think I know.

I said I think I loved. It was a blacks-haired girl, who worked in a bar. He looked at me smiling with only corner of his mouth. Her hair is often covered his face and lips were the only thing I saw.

The third time I went there, contrary to my habit, I asked her name.

"Pat" ...

His name was Pat.

knew the protocol to follow in these situations, clumsily tried to follow him ask her out.

She said she did not want to leave, but go to bed with me.

I thought she was, like many humans, deluded thinking that the metals they were like a blender which you could adjust the power as you wish, to use and put away. I really liked her so I said yes anyway. In the evening I went to his house.

When I entered his apartment I was immediately struck by the volume of the music. The rooms were almost empty and tidy, soft lights and orange.

He sat me on his bed now, not even asked me how I was. I poured a drink in a plastic tapered without saying a word. He kept smiling looking into my eyes, I could not understand what his intentions were. I just knew that I liked more.

Until then when I had no doubt that it was human. It was when he put his cheek against mine who understood its artificial nature.

I still do not explain why it struck me so much that discovery. I just remember that I got up slowly with his eyes stuck on him until I left the room.

one day I wandered to the outskirts of the city in the midst of garbage that would kill a man at the first inhalation. I felt dirty and I wanted to stay in contact with the rubbish and waste one day I would become part of them ...

Tanning Center Slogan

Story Story No.2

The Prophet of Fire

Saliva had a single mixture with sand.

The hours of the journey filled with dust and pain.

have to walk for so long a time would have seemed crazy. Now, however, could not help it.

There were those who called him a slave, who had tried to sell it as such. He had managed to survive despite everything, despite having a reduced knee pain since he was attacked by an angry mob. The

physical pain, however, remained the last of his worries, he knew that the most that could happen was dying, death and he had already proved.

When a man loses his family, his work, his place in the community that is perhaps the worst death that may exist.

When you're thrown into a corner and ask for a rag, knowing that some time before your skin was greased with perfumed oil and just, you know to be dead.

He always knew how fragile his life was, taught him that his mother's death, that just slipped in front home and beat his head was not raised further.

But then he was a child, the weakness was a thing of the nature of the infant.

Growing your confidence increases, in proportion to your physical assets. Do you feel strong, confident in the future, see your children walking in the footsteps that you first have trod.

Now I do not even remember how many days you walk. When did you last spoke with someone. See only a foot in front of the other.

From a distance he saw the walls of a village, fell to his knees, looked up and thanked the sky. It was an action that was now more often.

The distance was now plentiful, but the walls seemed to move away rather than closer.

knew it was a risk going somewhere new, as the prophet had received the most varied reception. He was loved and hated by many people.

Before entering he asked, as he always did, what he would say, what phrase was better to arrive. He had done it a million times, but was always afraid that someone would react badly, to kill him.

From a sentinel had seen, who was shouted down to let the prophet.

His feet barely touched the edge of the village who had heard screams of women and men who came.

closed his eyes for a moment, stroked a bit 'long gray beard, and heard something that only he could hear.

When I opened my eyes a crowd around him. This village had probably been attacked recently. There were few men in the forces and many women, some pregnant.

There were many children, however, a tear the eye went down, it was better not to ask what had made those children who seemed to fail to respond.

began making the gesture of blessing that everyone knew, he uttered a few words, under the watchful eyes of people who did not seem to trust him.

Someone pushed and fell to the ground. Always did, when he came limping off the knee many wanted to know if he was faking.

He got up without feeling that he had assaulted, but instead smiled and asked if he could sit down somewhere.

A woman had brought a small jug with water, he drank up, after many days of drought was difficult for him swallow.

When someone asked him the name, said he had always done since he was called to this journey that the name is not important, but what matters is the message.

This answer was unpleasant to some, others thought the offense, believed that he wanted to make fun of them, who do not deserve to know his name.

From a distance someone yelled that it was just another swindler, who wanted a free meal for two things to say far-fetched.

to this kind of provocation, he never answered, just closed his eyes as he was thinking, as if looking into it.

Another woman took him gently by the arm and told him he could sleep at his home. He was tired and exhausted, he would speak more calmly in the evening.

A group of people broke away and returned to his chores, while others followed him, those who humbly with a smile of derision.

In the house of the woman was a strong man, broad-shouldered, his beard long and flowing like a flock of black crows.

When he entered did not utter a word, but followed him with his eyes. Study it seemed like a beast does with its prey. The prophet went to lie down on a bed of twigs, shortly after the sleep had kidnapped.

When he woke up next to him there was a fire that heated the house. This was one place where the tools lying around, I realized that was used for everything from wired to sleep.

soon opened his eyes met those of the man who had seen it before, it seemed that he had not moved even a moment. Read the prophet in that look, life, fire, suffering, and have witnessed many times death.

In his heart he thought that perhaps he had much more to teach him, that his words were most certainly heard, such was the authority issued to him.

With a little 'hard work sat. The knee ached terribly, the first drop was a blow.

'now' he thought, 'Now is the time when I begin to ask of their destiny, because of their suffering'.

The woman who had came together at that moment, smiled when she saw him awake. She asked him if he wanted to eat something.

's relentless hunger was biting her stomach, maybe not eat for weeks. He brought with him a piece of bread for the trip, ate slowly and receiving to make it last.

raised his face and looked at the woman in the eye and told him that she had something important to ask. He ate only after you have answered your question.

She sat in front of the man, he could be her husband but nothing suggested.

'When will return to talk about? ' he asked, pointing to the man, 'When will it end its silence?'. The last word, you were the wind seemed to break. After asking what began to look at the ground as kidnapped by a thousand thoughts.

What is the purpose of the prophet? Which voice will listen? Why take the responsibility to respond to questions that seem to man banned?

He was asked this question many times, he often looked for a rational response. But he knew that the real answer was unpronounceable.

The prophet took the woman a flap of his tunic and said, 'Let him die, has finished his journey on earth'.

The woman began to cry. The sadness seemed to fill the house now.

After crying, she stood up and forcefully put her arms around the man to embrace. The squeezed and said the words whispered in the ear. Then she kissed him with passion and love.

The man smiled, maybe not smiled like this since he was little.

He turned to the prophet for a moment looking into his eyes, after you slumped as if asleep. The spirit flew away from his nostrils, and his flesh was left alone that she was still holding him close.

The Prophet stayed for hours with his eyes closed, tears almost prevented him from opening the lids. It was not simply that he felt pain and sadness, however.

was that feeling he had when he was kidnapped in the corners of what had been his village, after it was destroyed by the latest conflict. Even then he stood up, powerless and remained with his eyes closed until the moon appeared in the sky. She listened intently to the voice inaudible ears that was clear, however, as no one had ever talked before.

It seemed natural to leave the few items that still belonged to him and begin to walk, charmed by an inner music.

The woman had fallen asleep next to her husband's body, the Prophet got up and left.

Outside there was someone waiting for him.

Where Can I Get Anusol?

This is the first story.

The rocket wooden

The destruction begins with a smile and ends with death.

am been waiting for hours in the cold. The only thing I could say was thank you, and I was not so convinced.

They gave me some blankets, tobacco, even a magazine of naked women taken from somewhere.

all looked at me with admiration and hope for me, happy to share the moment.

I felt a damn about to enter hell. I did not want to go, but I had to, for them, it does not take away hope.

The air was cold, my mouth went up little clouds of condensed air the sky. I was ready, I thought, but in reality I was still preparing.

A lady brought me hot water to warm up, I wanted to relax, my stomach had to be warm for the trip.

'I wonder if there is water there where you go!' I said, and with his gloved hand stroked my hair and weak.

How could I tell him that you were just deluding himself?

remained closed for years in this village on the mountain, they are never out of here, have not seen anything about the rest of the world.

were self-sufficient until the weather began to worsen, fewer children were born and there was a dog that wants to visit this village.

I was told of the existence of this village by a colleague of mine. I thought he took me around. It seemed the story out of a fairy tale. A distant country, that nobody knew, just visible from the satellite, wiped off the map for many decades.

When I accepted the challenge to find I was arrogant, stupid and arrogant.

I liked climbing the mountain and I really need an excuse idiot for daring to climb to up here.

Now I'd never done.

I have no idea how these people have done to survive, I know nothing of their history, or at least I know what them. You say the people of the area's oldest, told me of so many legends, even one that comes to me.

And that is why I found myself, not to make them suffer, to build the crippled version of a rocket to the moon.

They were convinced that this would make them born again, that I would return them after the trip with the moon that water, in their blessed, that he would loose Snow and revived the vegetation.

many times I tried to reason with them, to tell him that it was impossible such a thing. I tried to give him lessons in physics, mathematics, everything that I knew would understand that you could build a rocket on a mountain like that. Needed materials, money, experienced people. And then, even if I arrived on the moon was proved that there was no water on it.

Their ears are closed when you heard me say these things.

then I continued to watch with big eyes and shiny, as a child. They had a look at what you could not say no, otherwise you would have broken my heart.

So I pretended to build the spacecraft, with firewood and the few materials available.

I had actually built a rudimentary Bob, that would allow me a quick descent from their village. I had made from a thick trunk that I had cut and applied to other pieces to complete it.

I had also given blankets to keep warm, said that the closer you get to the moon and the more you feel cold. At least that sounded rational.

There were no children in the village, only the elderly, some of which are centuries old.

's strange that despite this still gave me the impression of infants on the day of their birthday, attentive and enthusiastic, serious but happy.

In turn all I touched his head as a sign of blessing. I wanted to say something nice, important, something that would have left my memory.

I said just 'come back'. Without even sound very persuasive.

for them but it was as if I had screamed, and my cry had come to the moon.

The village headman, who was the oldest woman, said she had lived one hundred and fifty winters, I kissed his forehead.

I climbed on my Bob Wood, ready to drop.

do not ask why I went down and not up? What gave him such confidence that I would get up there?

I was hoping only to return as soon as possible to civilization and leave behind this sweet sadness of no longer hearing the terrible tenderness towards them.

began to think it was better if they died all here, far from pollution, the sadness of modernity, the intrigues of politics. The vision of the world outside their village would have probably taken the smile that seemed to shine eternally in their faces.

I began to push with their ancient arms, still strong and full of life. I turned to look at the last time, there was no doubt on their faces.

For a moment I felt like I was actually going to the moon, felt the thrill of a journey so long and extraordinary.

My tears crystallize the cold, as they took the wind speed I cut the skin of the face.

I did not feel pain when I realized that I was not running, but falling.

Just before reaching the ground looked the moon had appeared, even if it was day.

had always known that I would die on the day of my departure.

What Does The Colored Jelly Bracelets Mean

holiday ideas with children in summer 2011

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Santa Margherita di Pula, Cagliari, Sardinia.
SS, 195, 09010 Cagliari
Phone: 070 920 9406
Website: http://www.hotelmarepineta.it