Dark Stools, Bright Green Urine

Tale Tale

The crystal tower

could not miss.

years were waiting for him behind the slit.

If he lied, he would have paid dear, very dear.

His eye could see nothing for miles, the fog was dense, the world seemed to end there, on the edge of the tower.

After decades of training earned him the guardian of the tower. During the preparation did not know what awaited him. Only through experience would have understood, at least that was what he read in the eyes of his instructors.

The truth is that only those who lived in the tower of crystal knows what it feels like. If we wanted to go even deeper, into the heart of whoever holds, we would see a great void. Like a storm that takes away everything, so the guardians of the tower felt empty.

The end of the watch corresponds to the death of the caretaker, his dead body was lying in a crystal coffin placed in a boat built specifically for the funeral rite.

The boat floated up to run aground on a beach unknown.

The crystal coffin symbolizing the loneliness of the tower.

The crystal tower appeared to have no apparent utility. It was named so because if they had arrived, would be the first to fall. Its sole purpose was to defend the city behind him.

The tower had no ability to defend against an attack. The keeper had only to raise the alarm, sounding the horn at the top, in the case of assault.

But he that Horn did not want him to play, indeed, would have preferred that the city was falling miserably behind him.

He felt something inside him was changing. Patience and discipline were what his instructors tried to teach him during his training, but these were not sufficient.

Compared to the other keepers who were let go, he wanted to remain intact within. He did not want to lose the taste for life.

Each passing day, brought him closer to nothing.

But something had happened a few years earlier. A hope of salvation had appeared, a way to avoid being eaten by that damn tower.

As he climbed the endless flight of stairs inside up, he noticed vaguely that something was stuck in one of the slits.

was a small piece of paper with a message.

In an instant the keeper knew what it was.

enemies, much anticipated, would arrive. Did not specify a date, nor a precise period. But the message was clear, were out in force and would have destroyed the tower and killed those who care.

the keeper but gave a hope, if he had not sounded the alarm, not only would have been saved, but it was also well paid.

The guardian can not wait. All the keepers were kept until death. He did not want to die of old age in that horrible place, which filled the empty mind.

And yes, something totally void can be filled to the brim.

The caretaker at the beginning that he thought it was a joke, a trap left by his superiors to see their reaction. But

looking more closely he noticed the message that the graphemes were those he had studied in school training. He had explained how they wrote, had learned the language of the people hostile. Like any enemy it embodied the evil, and he had to prevent this disease spreads in the world.

The world, however, was not what he saw. If the world was the endless gray that surrounded the tower, the enemies could easily get it. Better death than to live like this, and at this point better than dishonor.

The keeper was left with the fixed idea about the message. She thought as she climbed the stairs, he thought as he ate, he thought especially as he stared at the emptiness of the tower.

thought that it was not much of what was required, just had to leave their ships to pass. Would go up on one of them and would take him into the city once it had fallen.

There was some that the guardian did not want to die. They were not relatives, were friendly and did not want them dead. Since he's opened the city gates, they had to return the favor, and was not much to ask the life of two or three people.

The keeper could not help but fantasize about winning, about what he would do just reached again civilization.

These thoughts distracted him from harsh reality, stay in a tower surrounded by a huge white cloud, without speaking to anyone and without being able to do anything for her empty inside.

No, he would not let him devour the tower from the inside, that made him a slave helpless without spirit.

So from that message when he found the days into months, months and years. He was still there waiting, hanging on with fingernails to the hope of salvation. He believed that would come, he thought that war was not preparing a thing. The time would gave way to gather the necessary forces for a massive attack. They wanted to be sure of victory, the their victory.

Sometimes, when staring with the intensity of whiteness that surrounded the tower, was sure to see them. There were points in the distance, tell, barely visible to the naked eye. With his imagination transformed them into flags, armies, guns, ships. Remained soon disappointed to discover that these points on the horizon do not grow or blacks took shape. It was not an army in the distance, only the illusion of his escape.

So the hours passed, and ended the day he fell asleep with hope that the next day something would happen, even a small sign.

After years of waiting, the guard was taken by anger, even thought of betraying just arrived. He sounded the horn and would have received as a reward for not dying in that tower.

in the soul of different guardian mingled feelings, anger, frustration, boredom and emptiness.

The vacuum tower had infected him deeply. And as a bodily disease was spreading, corroding the one he met.

The keeper had considered suicide, but who does not have the courage to live does not have the courage to die.

And then there was the dream.

A small boat arrived at the tower. The keeper went down the stairs running to the boat. He walked the last few steps slowly, displaying a certain behavior.

joint in front of the boat he realized that it was empty. Startled he looked around, searching for the sailor. No sign of life.

walked the perimeter of the tower, perhaps the man from the sea had dropped out of the boat and sought the entry of the tower. The tower was very tall and narrow. The keeper came to the point departure.

Sweaty for racing and the strangeness of the event, the keeper sat on a rock. While he thought with his chin resting on fist, something caught his attention.

resting on the edge of the boat stuck a piece of cloth.

The saw grabbed and doing that contained a message. Immediately recognized the handwriting of the enemy.

This message heralded its imminent arrival, was now a matter of days than weeks.

As she read, the message taken fire, spreading to his clothes until you get to the meat.

When he woke up sweating on his bed he realized that he had dreamed.

He thought that his hope to get out of that condition was likely to cause nightmares. He was afraid of going mad.

The keeper did this nightmare two years ago, a premonition that never came true.

One morning, as he stared at the fog, he saw that a bullet was being broadened and approached the tower.

After half an hour he knew without a shadow of doubt that this was a ship.

Small in size, its crew was reduced to one man.

Mindful of the nightmare he made sure he was not dreaming of pinching his cheek, he did not want another illusion.

Incredulous and polished realized that the boat was approaching the tower. The keeper tried to give him some clothes a minimum of dignity. The caretaker had eagerly awaited this moment so much from being unprepared.

After wearing the official uniform, abandoned for years in a corner, her hair arranged hurriedly and went downstairs to await the arrival of the boat.

The guardian in his heart he was afraid that this boat was empty as in a dream and that his days in the tower would be extended, until he had become an empty shell.

The man who was driving the boat rowing in a safe, seemed tireless nell'affondare the oar in the water. As if she had the strength in the arms of the waves.

The keeper felt the heartbeat speed up, had to remain calm. It was not to look like a fool if he would gain their trust. When

the man got out of the keeper managed to boat a better look. He had broad shoulders and was a head higher than he. Fully shaven and with short hair, a long cloak covered his shoulders. His clothes showed that they come from other lands, unknown to the caretaker. On the skin, in the nakedness like the neck, you could see the symbols tattooed, similar to the graphemes used by the enemy people.

The keeper standing up, holding his back straight with military dignity. Asked who he was and what he wanted.

The man grinned looking into the eyes of the guardian, with an air of mockery.

The Guardian did not want to be teased, repeated the question with greater force.

The man approached the keeper, almost to the palm of your hand.

And he said that the caretaker could be called the Guardian.

The confusion was expanding in the mind of the caretaker.

hammered The Guardian asked whether the duty of the keeper of the crystal tower was to sound the alarm, any type of ship was coming.

today as decades ago, the guardian is well remembered his orders, never leave the tower at no cost of life, sound the alarm as soon as any ship trying to land, defend the tower with their lives.

The Guardian never took his eyes from the eyes of the caretaker. The latter had understood it was not more time to play and it was better to speak out.

When the guard began to utter a word he found himself with one arm around the neck and a knife to her throat. The Guardian was able to subdue him with a rapid movement.

Keeper weak and hoping for a swift death did not resist.

The Guardian, as though he sensed her laxity loosened his grip and the guard fell to the ground emitting a dull thud.

After he sat on the stone on which sat the first keeper.

waited a while before you start talking:

'Different people, the same people.

I am not surprised that you did not resist, few can pass this test. Not everyone is ready for another city.

You see, there are not the same rules of the Old City. For centuries, select who can live there. The narrowness What is not acceptable to us.

Your friends, who have enrolled have been sent to you in towers similar to this one, scattered all around the area, the center of which as you know there is the Old Town.

All was left a message, a false hope of escape from the tower. Many give up, just resist the temptation of an easy victory.

the other city was born from the union of different peoples, a place without any fear of betrayal or a knife behind when you least expect it.

But the other city must earn to live here, the cowards are not welcome.

see, the Old City is decaying. Corruption, indifference to other people, the sadness in the faces of women now are things that you see frequently. There was a time when some of us have had a vision, a place of hope and happiness.

not endure as we had become small and poor as you. All waiting for someone to save us and no one wanted to work for salvation.

You'll notice that while you were here you were emptying in, I guess you will not be asked because you were too concentrated in your flight. Have you ever wanted to ask a real question.

This emptiness that I felt was already inside you, the walls of the tower you were only an echo. You could choose to turn the empty fullness humbly accept your work, but you did not want, I think I deserve more.

Now I assure you that not only never to set foot in the Other City but you will be confined in this tower for the rest of your days.

Do not worry, there are more towers around you than you can imagine. Do not you ever seen the fog because we have created is so perfect that envelop the mountain.

Now is the time for me to leave, there are other guards who think they are smart and save unnecessary suffering.

But the real suffering will be for them to know that he deceived themselves all this time '.

The Guardian got up and walked to the boat. The keeper still followed him with dazed eyes, if it was not a dream was the worst nightmare he'd ever had.

Before boarding the Guardian turned to the keeper and gave him an object.

The caretaker noticed that the message was wrapped in cloth that had long dreamed of before. He swallowed, took place scared the fabric. He was afraid of catching fire, he did not want to die charred.

The Guardian said: 'Do not worry, do not ignite when you open it. It 's a message for you, something to remember for the rest of your days'.

The caretaker opened the package.

reuniting the void.

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 ...