How To Make A Bath Pillow

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You know, there are certain things in life, you would like to share with all you've done or things you have seen or simply that you were taught.
I now have a very different person, I am better - in many ways. It was not a free exchange, had a weight, a cost ... it was painful.
E 'painful at times.
But I had good teachers, I had the great fortune to meet them - listen to them.
The last person on the list, is very special, not born special, has decided to work on itself to become one.
This person has taught me many things, gave me the strength to stop and if not stopped, to get up. I
errors before, I stopped, sometimes even before - for fear of mistakes again. She told me stories, to be repeated when he could not be with me.
Thomas Edison know who he is? The inventor of the bulb. Before
be, was simply the madness of his village. A man from the experiments will continue bankruptcy, 1745 and three blasts of the laboratory, which involve the start all over.
A reporter went to interview him, driven by curiosity and the voices of the people and asked the man if he was tired of these repeated failures.
Edison replied that he had never failed, he simply invented 1745 ways not to invent a light bulb.
hundred experiments later, he succeeded.
If he stopped just once before, if he had given up, if it had considered those experiments as failures and not as a step towards his invention would not have invented electricity.
Surely someone would have invented it, sooner or later, but not him. He would have been a fool, the joke among the chatter of people.
So, no matter how many mistakes they make mistakes if steps, if you know what you want and not give up.
After all, Einstein said, "So many intelligent people know that something can not be done, then comes a fool who does not know ... and invents. "

I always fear of making mistakes, but I make my mistake and not a step I stop if I stop ... recommenced.
If you still fail, if not wrong.
It's not worth stopping, because life is like a pendulum from one side are those of the other beautiful things and ugly. We
oscillate, there are bad things, but there are also those beautiful to give us strength.
It 's a balance.
If you let yourself be frightened by the ugly, and you stop ... does not wobble, if not hunting, you lose those ugly, but also beautiful.
So what's the point if you stop? If you lose everything?
not worth living? Losing your pain and loses everything, everything that can make you happy? No. So we must

swing, because if the price of happiness is to try even the price of pain and not feel the pain and never be happy ... Stop
not make sense.


PS This is for you, but for me, because I need to repeat it, ever.

Honey, you you've already sorbed my zen parables, jump. ^ ^
I needed to share with everyone.
And I simply say that! I have not talked about the fleas or the traveler.
XD But I could do it, especially when the next exam date approaches ... help me. ^ ^

El Drama ... ¿ahora Qué?

84
Carlos and David - Phenomenology back

Carlos is sure that the fault is his.
The kid screaming on the front seat, and the guy next in line to vomit into the bag that the airline. Granny disgusted shaking his dismal range of black lace.
his fault.
has stationed in the shower for almost an hour before leaving, and was smeared on the skin liters of aftershave. He carefully wiped the shirts, pants has led to the laundry.
not helped.
That nauseating stench of onions still yet to hear him, as if the pestilential air of the Mexican village had penetrated into the pores by changing the composition of the same cells. As if Santa María gli avesse tessuto attorno una specie di inquietante maledizione, come se la razionalità si fosse involuta in qualcosa di oscuro e subdolo.
Qualcosa di fatale.
Non ha senso.
O forse ne ha fin troppo, invece: forse è esattamente quello, il punto di rottura verso cui Hamilton intendeva spingerlo quando l'ha costretto ad esiliarsi laggiù. Forse serviva proprio la minaccia di leggendarie cimici a togliergli quel poco di sonno su cui ancora poteva contare - forse il bastardo sapeva bene che in Messico la luna è così tanto più grande. Che ulula nella notte come un animale ferito, che certi luoghi sono entità viventi. Wicked nightmares.
Carlos is confused.
But remember that years ago when his grandmother gave him the papers, under the painting of a Madonna and seven swords stuck in the heart, the thrill he felt along the back was cold in the same way - in the same manner froze the sweat on his forehead. Petrified muscles.
Hamilton.
The Lady with the seven swords had the look of demonic Hamilton, dreams, and Vivian laughed at his feet. And his grandmother was tearing her hair, sprinkled pinches of salt in the corners of the room. And Vivian laughed again, and Hamilton's eyes narrowed. And he did not breathe.
not breathe.
Fuck.
When he woke up there was the usual smell sticky onion, air, and cries came from the alley below and shouting of drunks.
Carlos got up from bed, then - out the window at the moon floating on the horizon as the white eye of a corpse and some bitch made him nod off, from below.
On the floor, a bug across the beam of light that filtered through the glass - he closed his eyes. She felt wet drops down along the temple.
was sweaty.
was sweating from the alley and the smell of onions mingled with the more pungent jasmine and almost seemed possible to make out there on the street, Vivian - the moon's reflection on the hair.
hands of those drunks narrow hips, narrow wrists.
His laugh.
I like how I look, what they think, what I want to do that laugh ...
pounding in the brain as a chant satanic - there was no way to silence it. There was no antidote.
I like the way I touch. As I fuck ...
Then again, in a whisper: What , turns you on?
Another look, the harder. Nausea
other hand - the other odors.
lucky that I was the one with a passion for fucking in the processes ...
Pressing the fingers at the base of the nose, Carlos opened his eyes.
Look at the white ceiling of the plane, above him - see the monitor turns off. The stewardess leans over to invite him to fasten his seat belt - the hair on his shoulders. The valley of Rosenfield, oblivion.
is at home. Breathe.
At home, finally.
Or maybe not ....
moves a step forward, uncertain - glances around. Serra
his fist on the shoulder of the case - someone pushes forward. Someone else's hits the shoulder, without looking back. A metallic voice, the speakers, call to check in passengers traveling to New York.
not at home - is not no place, evidently. Why
missing the relief of back, and lacks the feeling of familiarity that only the city you live in can give you. Lack the will to revise the streets to find people. To meet again himself. And Vivian
missing, mostly. Admit it, now, does not even get so scared.
For the first time, crossing the perimeter of the campus, finds himself wondering what is really the way to that place to sleep, waking up every day and attend classes. And then to eat in a hurry to rush to work. To be sent again somewhere. To do something.
process - remember - the great opportunities of a prestigious law firm.
The future that you have chosen.
It's all too far.
He just wants to sleep at the time - fall into a deep sleep and for once not to notice the color of night falls or who have the stars. Stop fighting and let go of everything. Relying
the suitcase on the floor, turning the key in the lock of the door.
Raven is lying on the bed - note, entering. Her hair is loose - the jeans fell on the flanks. Dark skin, olive skin so different from the Mexicans. So much more at night - the most mysterious.
is strange.
For a moment, crossing his eyes to Carlos seems to see him now for the first time. Or maybe she never really looked before - not with that tired abysmal.
He could always count on its own strength, to contrast with that of his friend.
Now it's like staring at the sun without screens instead. Like being blind.
"Hello."
instinctively looks away - throws the suitcase on the chair.
pulling off his jacket, gets out of the pockets cigarettes and matches.
"I've been waiting for. How was the flight? "
" Good. "
Silence.
"No particular turbulence," feels compelled to add, approaching the corner of the kitchen without conviction.
could perhaps prepare a coffee, currency, if the mind is able to process in a practical way any intention. The truth is that reappropriation of space seems to have become impossible - even Raven must have sensed his discomfort.
"Are you sure? You have not looked very relaxed ... "it notes, inhale deeply and Carlos.
It brings the cigarette to her lips, opens the box of matches.
changes his mind soon after.
to drop the packet on the table, pushes him away with an abrupt gesture.
"I'm not rested, already, "his friend answered, without looking. But could not find the strength, without even trying for this irritation. He feels
move behind it - the bed creaks just reporting a change of position.
"Santa María was the hell did you expect, I suppose," comes the question, but he shakes his head.
"It is not even concerned about this," he admits, running a hand through his hair. "It's just that there was no real reason why Hamilton should send me there. And I can not get rid of that smell of onions, adds, suddenly pulling off the shirt. Throwing the chair, to cover the bag. "I hardly slept a wink for a week ..."
"You want me to leave the room?"
Raven's voice is cautious now - just lower.
"I can go to study in the library, if you want to try to recover a few hours of sleep ..."
"No," but he answered, almost without thinking. "It is not necessary, do not ..."
Pause.
"Do not disturb me, tranquil," ends, throwing a glance. Discovering it sitting cross-legged on the bed, his head perfectly smooth. Loose shoulders - just curled against the background of the wall. Wrapped in a cast of black hair.
Building, Carlos clears his throat.
He had not realized how much he had missed the constant presence of Raven, Mexico - the confidence that even draws the lines of his body, composed and calm so deep that makes each of his eyes. What makes his voice so firm - so peaceful.
He struggled many times in the past, seemingly impervious to tolerate the peace with which his friend seems to be able to tackle anything, yet he wanted to beside it, in Santa Maria, to be able to reconstruct the reality in perspective. To hear him breathe in the next bed when the moon became huge and exotic smells too - too strange. Hamilton's voice too much metal inside the handset.
Wearily back to look away - it gets wet lips.
Inhale, slowly, trying to penetrate into the air from the lungs.
"He's trying to cut me out of the process," he murmurs, and across the room immediately Raven straightens his back - in more detail.
"Are you sure?" Question.
"There are only five days opening of the first hearing and I have not had a hand in any of his papers, Raven. I have not read even his harangue damn, you know? Nothing. "
" you would not, however, the stomach, "said the other, with a grimace. "If you take out only makes you a favor. From every point of view. "
" Shit! I can not understand what the hell has in mind! "
Grabbing the pack of cigarettes, Carlos if he fits one of the lips.
"There is no need to go away, no one would prevent him from how and when he wants to quit. To take another server at any time. It makes no sense! Is burdened alone the entire body of work ... for what? "
Hesitating, Raven him a look.
"With Megan you close it?"
"Fuck, Raven!" He blurts out, blowing the smoke away. "Of course I closed, it is natural! Megan got to do that now? "
" No, sure. "The other shrugged. "Only if you suspect that Hamilton brought his wife in bed might not be too happy ..."
"All the more reason to fire me in the trunk, do not you think? It may take against the entire environment if you would - his father has enough influence to ruin my career. But the weight of foot binding to a server that does not allow you to work against his own interest, "says Carlos, absorbed. "I mean come on, is simply suicidal ..."
tired, she let slip on the mattress, then - white square in the eyes fixed on the ceiling.
lifting the arms - the snaps behind his head slowly.
"The point is that he does not care enough about me to risk to play for the process, and if you want to know I'm convinced he does not care enough to even his wife ..."
"As to that, I have no doubt."
"Because he is so important to keep an eye on, then?" Meditates Carlos, almost to himself. "For those who ?"
But the other does not respond immediately, and that question remains hanging in the air long enough to charge the most disturbing suggestions. More sinister.
there something back in that business - the knobs are too irregular joints. The complete design effort to take shape.
There is no consistent logic - rational.
"The Mexico has made you even more paranoid, it seems, "says Raven finally, holding a smile. "Seriously, Herrera. The most that can happen is that you resign, you said it, too. "
" Yeah ... "is the answer, a little 'hoarse. Tired, maybe.
course, unconvinced. But while
Raven back to browse his book Carlos is lying there, absorbed, and does not move even when the phone rang on the bedside table feels. When the other reached out, stepping over to retrieve the phone. When he speaks.
When the crosses again to return to place the apparatus on the mobile.
"Raven?"
Turning his head, his friend glances.
"When I was little my grandmother had a picture hanging on the wall ..." he whispered, slowly.
"Your grandmother that the catechism?"
"Yes. It was a painting of the Madonna holding a heart, "he says softly. "A true heart, you know? With lots of arteries and blood. And in the heart were embedded seven sharp arrows ... "
" God! "The friend exclaims, waving his hand. "Every time I talk about this woman understand a bit 'more like you did at your age to get so messed up ... "
" The point is that I dreamed almost every night, in Mexico, " ; Carlos continues without badargli. Without changing the tone, either - like a strange chant.
At his side, Raven raised an eyebrow.
"Carlos. What are you trying to say? "
Silence.
"In the dream, Our Lady Hamilton's eyes," he finally mutters, almost in a whisper. "It was staring at me - just stared at me. All the while, as if to damn. But the more chilling ... "
takes breath with caution.
"What is most frightening is that there was Vivian, in that picture," she whispers. "He was standing in the shadows as if the enveloping cloak of the Virgin Mary in a single black spot, and laughed in a way that bore no resemblance to a laugh ... He laughed and looked at me, you know? And she laughed again at that terrible way ... "
" Carlos, "the Raven stops, abruptly. "You can not go on like this. For months we pretend to anything, and I can understand that we will took a while 'to accept, but continue to tell you shit is absurd. You know it, right? "
" No, it's not this ... "
Slowly, he closes his eyes.
is not really that - the fact of finding love with a guy is definitely a nuisance, but does not scare even more so now.
No, that stage has passed. Perhaps it was
Mexico to reduce the prospects, perhaps is that everything becomes a habit. Or maybe they are tired - tired of fighting a lost war from the start. Fatigue to put up a futile resistance.
But around the corner of Vivian has always been made, and therein lies the real problem.
Vivian dancing on a disco track, which is nestled in the shadow of car unknown.
Vivian ride - looking at you straight in the eye with the picture of someone getting hung in the room. Saints and demons unknown.
Hamilton. Carlos
tends muscles - sits up.
Gliding on the bed, turns the elbows on his knees.
"Who is seeing now?" Application, pressing the palms on the eyelids.
"A guy who does not know," comes the reply, sincere. "Vivian did not has never been particularly eloquent in this regard. Do not even know his name, I know that is not just a kid. I think he has a few years older than me, too. "
" More than you? "He repeats. Slowly.
"I do not know exactly, but yes. That is, is a grown man, it seems. Definitely. "
" Okay ... "
Pause.
"Adult," he murmurs again Carlos.
It hurts.
hurts even expecting it - though perhaps expecting worse. Even if after all that often Vivian could mean that someone does not attend any more - that his lover tonight is likely to be the same as the night before. And the one before that. Running less danger, perhaps.
It hurts the same.
And it hurts even to the contrary, paradoxical thinking, which then is able to give up all right for a thousand lovers only. That he is not that one, though.
That never will be.
"Than ..." Hesitation. "Of what happened to Queer did not tell you anything, right?"
"Not exactly," Raven responds - and also that if the expected response.
What happened at the end of that night that directly relate to Vivian?
It will certainly have talked about time - the news that Herrera has been caught in situations that are not exactly straight was definitely too good not to share it with friends.
But then the argument can not but have spent there - maybe just a little 'disappointed not to have succeeded him, to get that prize. You can not say that he had not committed. This particular
could have irritated, actually. Just this.
Basta.
With a sudden decision, Carlos stands up.
It is getting free of evil, and when it is not even strong enough to support it. It has yet to unpack his suitcase, he thinks. Eat something.
and sleep, perhaps.
Being able to really relax. Detach the mind.
"Okay," she murmurs, dropping her arms at your sides. "I think I will ... You need a shower in the bathroom?"
"No, go quiet," says Raven, with a vague nod of the chin. "You want to go get something to eat after all, what do you say?"
"I do not know ..."
That did not quite know what to do with his life, Carlos - lunch or dinner is certainly less of a problem. But the Raven is missing, and this is the only thing that can reasonably be said to be safe.
"Let the canteen of the campus?" Dares thus lowering the handle of the bathroom.
"I think after the week you've been to Mexico a better place might make you comfortable canteen on campus," said the friend, with a half grin.
But then let her lips tend - tilts his head slightly. The
rests his hand on his shoulder, smiling.
"I'm glad you're back," adds. Carlos nods and
plan. He smiles in return.
And if you notice at that time, without any doubt. Without any uncertainty. To be truly back, at last.
To be at home.






In compensation, the whiskey has the reflexes of gold.
Ice cubes smooth draw forms in glass, and smoke slips along the edges of the glass with the sinuosity of a secret caress.
Annoyed, David frowns: The image reminded him of Keith, Keith, and in theory should be banned from the thoughts with all the severity of the case.
It is just a normal boy, at the bottom: eyes as a boy, a boy hips. Lower back as a kid.
A normal night of hunting and can easily find dozens of kids like him.
Yet the detail of her hands pressed against his chest have to have some importance if the mind continues to run aground on the imagination of lips that open, rather than bolt. Of breath that slips in your mouth like hot whiskey.
Shit.
It had never happened to send him a damn kid in a white evening - and the matter is all the more galling in light of the fact that, if it is to be honest, had never even occurred to commit so much to have someone in his bed. It is
found myself studying her own face in the mirror of the car that night - to depart the hair from the temples to see if by chance there was one white. And then he spent his fingers on his eyelids, he weighed the depths of dark circles do not exist. He carefully observed his forehead, looking for wrinkles too pronounced.
ridiculous.
There is nothing wrong in him, not his fault if an infant complexed decides to give vent to their inhibitions in his Jaguar.
But it is useless: David did not quite digested the outcome of the evening - has absolutely surreal metabolized by the fact of any boy who so easily free interweaving of its network of seduction. Why
for in the refusal of Keith have undoubtedly weighed the timidity and fear - even the inexperience, and perhaps even a sense of inadequacy that he is committed to self-administer for most of the evening - the fact remains that did not lose his head when he's has touched their lips. It has not been left paralyzed by her look - not at that time. Not when it was only logical left him paralyzed.
All this is incomprehensible - there is someone to be able to stand up to him with that determination.
also because he was convinced to have studied in detail, Keith was sure Having calibrated the gestures in a manner appropriate to his defense and does not remember ever having used such delicacy with anyone in the world - does not seem to be ever more careful. Or more convincing.
He can not understand.
The refusal of the boy escapes the most basic laws of cause and effect chain, and terribly disturbing the idea that any kid has been able to reverse roles with the naturalness - find hate to think of him in the middle of a meeting.
Even Samuel, with his delusions as an ascetic, was never able to violate the sacred territory of his work. With that obstinacy, then. As if he had chained the brain.
"David, Can you give me the honor of your presence? "beats the old, and he sends down the last mouthful of a drink of whiskey. Almost angrily.
"I do not think there is reason to be alarmed over the odds," he says, figuring that the long monologue of her father has not deviated one iota from the explanations first.
not followed the last part of the speech but knows him well enough to know what irritates him discover important details only a few days before the opening of a process.
In this case, then, the story also touches on thorny keys of his personal life - that for it even more can be said pedophilia disgusting homosexuality and the fact that the prosecutor can now rely on the testimony of two male children , nailing Holmes seems to have made him forget even his stiff aloofness.
"You are too sure of yourself, as usual," it growls, chugging a puff of black smoke. "I repeated a thousand times before or after that your attitude will eventually bring very serious trouble, David!"
"Actually, I must confess that we almost had hoped, in a development like this," he says, pouring another whiskey.
"Are you completely mad?"
"It 's much harder to discredit the testimony of traumatized girls - usually the girls who are victims of abuse are brought to close in on themselves."
Pause.
"Boys tend to react differently, however. It is likely that sfoghino growing anger with acts of vandalism, or exercising in turn violence on the weaker elements ... "
" You're sure to find something in their past? "
" They are both boys street, at the end. "
A smile - almost of defiance.
"You can not really say that our man did not have the smarts to try to strut in environments favorable to us, his charges. "
" Do not brilliant with me, David! "snarls the old man, enraged. "There are exactly five days to the beginning of the process and you still is not convinced your client to tell the whole story!"
But he shakes his head, putting the glass on the cabinet.
"Holmes not ever tell the whole story," replies, flatly. "There is much more than under his own inability to keep it in his pants in front of some sporadic minor, this is more than evident! "
" What are you talking about? "
" We're just lucky that the prosecution loses his time on the emotional trauma of street kids, "is the answer, abrupt. "Male or female. This is not what should worry, "adds David, taking a seat in his chair.
crossing his legs stretched out his arm on the table to retrieve the cigarettes - the lighter trigger. Inhales the smoke, do not rush.
and pretends not to notice that the gaze is fixed on him - it is carefully studying. That the argument should not have convinced at all, in all likelihood. But
is exasperated.
is starting to suffer quite seriously the obligation of having to account for every action that Methuselah in his dotage - a time perhaps a comparison could be challenging when the old man had not yet dell'arterosclerosi prey and he was only an aspiring lawyer with a lot 'of experience to accumulate.
Now things have changed, though - you are doing quell'interdipendenza forced choking. The case is his - not the law firm, not his father. His
.
he was to draw the defensive line, he has worked on it day and night. He has spent ideas, and talent - We will face him in court.
And he will win the case, it is more than convinced. Dislikes
know that the members will be under him, later, to reap the rewards of a success that should be hers alone. He hates that colony of parasites and detests mediocrity. I hate to
ballast.
But most of all hard to tolerate the interference of the old - no time to waste their stupid prejudices or want to share with some idiot bigot the secrets of a strategy that has cost labor, and labor. And sleepless nights.
Fuck.
"Permission?"
could not miss the icing on the cake at this point, why wonder?
His patience was not tested properly, otherwise - the training of self-control could not be complete!
Sharpening the eyelids, the eyes move slowly toward the door.
"Herrera," marks.
fingers tightened on the handle again, his assistant takes a step forward.
"Excuse the interruption ..."
seems very subdued - David had already noticed when entering office, he happened to run across quickly austere in the shadows of the corridor. Ironically
for the first time that morning, it was also dressed in an appropriate way: sober tie, dark dress. Face pale.
distinguish it from a spectrum, in such a context, it was not at all automatic.
"Oh, welcome back!" Had told him, passing alongside. "What, you have a group of Olmec used as a ball in a tournament pelota?"
not really expect that he would yet reviewed the job - he was convinced that he would throw in the towel between the bugs Santa María.
Evidently he had underestimated.
which has been proven by experience is beyond doubt, but this occurred despite the study on time. He began to print the mail, like every morning, he photocopied his daily stack of rulings. And now it is there that holds in his hands the dossier of documents he sent him to get on the opposite side of the city - documents knows to be unnecessary but also brought together and categorized as it did with the material of the utmost importance . Without any hint of protest, among other things.
not to believe.
slip more comfortably against the back, David crushes his cigarette in the ashtray.
"The documents are ready, waiting, wants leave it to him on the table? "I ask this, and casually waves him enter.
"I would prefer that I scanned them all," he says, pointing to the shelf. "In the meantime, we would be grateful if you were kind enough to pour a little 'whiskey, while you're standing."
"A glass for me," growls the old man.
Herrera would not comment.
"He phoned Brider, while you were in a meeting," tells the other hand, removing the cork from the bottle.
Pause.
"And Weldon. Again, "then adds after a moment hesitation. "Judith says that is trying for a week, it seems that the phone can not contact."
"Oh, really?"
"So says."
"What a funny ..."
Actually David did not expect anything different - the friends shows that the predictability in certain circumstances it is even fun.
continue to call for months, every morning. Every afternoon, exactly the same time, until he decides not to answer. Until reassure him that okay, that the matter has been digested and metabolized asceticism. No hard feelings.
Go fuck yourself!
For years, Samuel is the ugly and bad time in his life, taking it arbitrarily most unlikely directions. Obeying only its metaphysical delusions - taking advantage of every little tear in the net for his valuable groped flight north.
We therefore takes time to achieve its ridiculous supercelestial?
What we wallow in well, then - we drown!
He has nothing to do but sniff daffodils and bask in the presence of asexual celestial hierarchy: there is a process to be pursued, there are dozens of kids to be addressed raped. It is to look at their faces without lowering his eyes - without that determination falter. It is to be closed in a safe at his own humanity - locked. Forget the combination for months. Forever, maybe.
"David?"
"Hm?"
Frown, when he changes position.
The air is thick with smoke in the room and the smell of cigar seems to burn in the pit of my stomach a slight hint of nausea.
"His whiskey," Carlos marks on the opposite side of the desk, holding out his glass. "I have to add ice? "
" Do not say shit, "is the answer.
The boy nods, slowly.
"Want more?" Then asks, approaching the door. "He wants the appeals Weldon?"
"Do me a favor to contact the man, David!" Exclaims the old man, waving his hand in a gesture of exasperation. "All we need is to come and look for the Studio in a moment like this - as if we had enough trouble for us!"
"So ... I call him?" Application Carlos, unable to hide the surprised expression. Disorientation.
For a moment, considering the situation, David is almost ready to burst out laughing.
"No, I think," he says. Holds a smile. "I'll do it tonight from a public phone - you never know where the press could place his bugs ..."
"I warn you that you're going through the limit!" Growls his stepfather.
But he swallows the whiskey, quietly. Rests the glass on the table.
and enjoys the face of lost Herrera, meanwhile - his bewilderment. Hesitation blank looks - the movements. You
a show.
Whether it's struggling to follow the direction of the discourse is more than obvious, yet this time you can not even blame him. You have to be grown together with Samuel to understand certain things on the fly - you must have seen his stories cut out of the contests and his chest scarred edge. Turned their backs on him must be a thousand times a thousand times and have never heard of remorse. And a thousand times it choked with care. A lifetime of training.
"I repeat once again that the situation is completely under control," he tells his father, pushing his chair from the table. Crossing her legs.
is starting to show signs of impatience.
"It would have been under control if your childhood friend had limited himself to writing novels decent" marks but the old man, waving his cigar in the air. "Not the rubbish - not to mention constantly gays and lesbians, let's go!"
"Homosexuals," David corrects him. "We try to be politically correct ..."
"I wonder why some people seem to insist on banging their perversions in the face to all law abiding citizens of the country ..."
"Probably because the country is so ; full of honest citizens threaten to explode! "is the answer, unexpected, and David turns his head suddenly.
The old man snaps the chair, the image defines the contours. Defines the center of gravity, slowly - focuses on the forms. The sound of the voice.
Herrera.
as it may seem impossible Herrera was talking, no one else in the room.
Nobody apart from their three - and David knows he does not harbor ambitions suicide. Would never have dreamed of coming up with a sentence like that - not a fool. Doing shit like not one of the things he never thought he could give.
Herrera must be crazy. Obviously it is
Mexico was the sun to melt the brain, or maybe the bugs were particularly lethal. Maybe it's really more naive than to cling to a normal human being.
Yet something does not - there is a clear contradiction between the image of homophobic bastard was talking about Vivian and kind of strange that we have just launched suicide dive against the impregnable fortress of the crazy old man.
Intrigued, David points his elbow on the armrest of his chair - his chin sunk between forefinger and thumb. Carefully observe the thrust of the ostinato in the eyes of Carlos appalled and shocked by his stepfather.
"What he said exactly, your assistant? "comes the question, glacial.
"I said ..."
"Herrera, do me a favor ..." I interrupted him, standing up. "Deliver us with your presence, we have a meeting to be concluded. Thank you. "
Silence.
"Herrera," he says again, noting that the boy has not moved a single step. Showing no signs of taking his eyes - which seems to have no intention of leaving. "Get out!"
He never thought he would have his ass to save the trainee nor that for some reason you would ever feel motivated to do so.
not really know what they themselves do not push it in that direction - the anger still lingers in the stomach only if his mind goes back to concentrating on the words of Vivian. Or the image of Carlos and Megan talking softly, too close. Too closely.
Yet the unconscious boy's carries a strange nostalgia, something inexplicable. And, as for some inexplicable reason, seems to be related somehow to the eye of Keith. The reflection of light in his eyes.
Fuck even the kid, dammit!
"You should get rid of insolent. It is completely unnecessary, " Meanwhile, the old is grunting, and he shakes his head irritably.
glanced at the doorway, now empty. Get
cigarettes - quickly.
"After the trial on that later. It is too involved in the case, I would take another month to train, "he says, waving his hand in a gesture bored. Sa
star of bluffing - mainly to himself. But the suspicion that he is not stoned nice thing to be tackled, and today harassment or interference has been all too. He
harangue to prepare him. A process to win. So sit back
- opens the file he was working. Opens the computer.
And for the moment that decides everything else, simply can not go straight to hell.

ROSA DEI VENTI is licensed under a CCA NC-ND 2.5 Italy . Permissions beyond the scope of this license May be available at: http://rosaventi.altervista.org/copyrigth.html .

To Kill A Mockingbird Slang

Day 2 surreal revenge.

Hem ... Not that I'm a negative person.
And even superstitious. That is, I believe to be reasonable and rational enough.
I think. .. But there is a but.
Here. I do not know how to say ...
I have done malocchiooooo. XD
The bad luck is hard to bludgeon on me! haunting me so!
I do not think I would, but that old lady looked at me really badly, as if I was pulling an arrow.
A voodoo curse!
Since that time did not understand anything! I need a ritual! An amulet anti-jinx!
runner has tried to teach me a kind of tongue-twisters that he always says, something like eye evil eye parsley and fennel ... A long stuff.
XD I do not ever learn!
That then I swear I'm not superstitious, but I was startled when, shortly after, that nice black cat crossed my path.
not no good appealing look! He stopped and then pulled straight, pointing out the bad luck!
Exactly one second later, I stepped in a puddle, it seemed small ...
seemed!
pity that I arrived in mid-ankle instead, incredible!
But I repeat itself: "You are a rational person on earth. Want to give reason to really fucking runner, who would flay rather than let a black cat? "
(He rather invest it, or run the hundred meters before the crossing cat, so he is able, at 6 the morning is to take the crazy medieval.)
I take it with some hardly reassuring hum and an attempt to philosophy.
I say: "Come on! It 's a coincidence. " Heartened
continuation to myself more confident.
Arrival at the intersection. That bloody cross 8 lanes, almost a lap of death. A test of survival! Where the lights never works. Through. Check the other side unscathed
not seem to me true. I smile like an idiot and go on happy hovering like a marshmallow. ^ ^
A guy next to me fall, do not give a damn! I do not want to know how he fell, not even look at him. Both
is laughing like a jerk.
I pass by an old woman.
Zompetto happy as Haidi with his goats and montichelefannociao. Who
row the chick with a foot in the grave!
But she did not.
He stops.
She looks at me.
It makes me laugh in an indescribable way because if not there, you can not understand.
glasses that had the two eyes were giants. Just huge! Huge and round the glasses! One thing
hallucinating. Calling all my self control.
not laugh. Even if something inside me, roll uncontrollably. XD
Hold and represses the urge to explode while I tear her eyes.
straight out of a cartoon!
practically crying!
But that looked at me and I could not move at all.
Then, she approached. She shook her head, smiled and gave me an apple and a handkerchief from his shopping cart!
I burst out laughing, just doubled!
I managed to say thank you while looking at me perplexed and I ran away.
will have been impressed by the power of the apples lift the mood. APPLES POWER!
Doovevate see her, but when he gave me the apple, which was brown and yellow.
ugly!
I had to laugh.
already look like a cartoon, then if I exit the apple and give it to me, look like the wicked witch comic version. XD
Like hell I eat!

Then, the not to forget about the bad luck: I broke a glass, I cut two times with the same paper in two minutes.
I just noticed not one, but two that make me very badly bruised, two minutes ago mother opened the cabinet of glasses, took the glass and everything ok, it is satisfied the company. I am going to open a drink and I fall DUE, ie rimarchiamolo, two bowls in the head. Not a ... TWO!
I'm starting to worry.
Every now fixed and I think the apple ...
There are three options: Option 1
: eat it and die.
Possibility 2: I eat and I do not do anything.
Possibility 3: it was a sign of fate and bad luck from black heals me!

So ... Why mention this?
Why did you say whether or not to eat the apple of scary old lady. Of course! ^_______^

I know it sounds surreal. It seems to me too!
So think in a state of shock that I'm harassing!
Help me ^ ^.
There are moments in a person's life, where you have to abandon the rational and logical reasoning and surrender to the fact that, worldwide, there are old ladies who will throw the evil eye and others with giant eyes and comedians that they give you APPLE! XD


PS Why check news of the day and see a picture of your sister banged on the front page to the Gay Pride di Milano ... priceless! \u0026lt;333

Wat Kind Of Weave Does La La Wear?

FEATHER BOA

P I U M E D I B O A
of Roh & Fairy



Chapter 6

Nude - Have You Seen My Feathers?

bets Hands on hips - look inquisitive - the mother of the twins is around the perimeter of the room sniffing the air like a bloodhound.
is Sunday - Sunday afternoon - and only you are at home. Her husband
.
And Dylan, of course, that as the script was caught by a sudden attack of fever.
"I do not understand ..." he muttered, puzzled, throwing his son a look suspicious. "But I cleaned up the other day, before that your brother went away ... "
" will be the trainers of Chris ... "he ventured, distracted.
But she shakes her hand, upset.
"Dee," replies, lifting the blanket to peek under the bed. "As far as the shoes of you guys can get to be really pestilential I doubt that Chris has a rotten whale, instead of feet. This is just the smell of rotten fish, do not want to recognize it? "
" Marco, now ... "
" Marcio, I say! "
" Hm ... "
Silence.
"You believe that the fish become toxic if it is fresh and cool?" He asks cautiously.
Doubt had come, in fact, perhaps too early to pass at the fish could not have been exactly a good idea, but did not have much choice. Officially has a fever, for that matter. From Friday afternoon.
and could not risk running out of raw material for its aphrodisiac dinner - dinner aphrodisiac that without the whole plan would go ahead. I had to buy shrimp
Thursday, then. Hide them with care.
Among other things, is almost sure I heard it move during the first night.
course, could not sleep.
"Oh my goodness, but what is this stuff ?!?!"
his mother's cry startles suddenly, brutally detaching it from his thoughts.
"Dee, but shrimp! Damaged! "Feels screaming in horror.
blinked, then - straightens his back.
Intrigued, he turns in the direction of all that noise.
Have you heard about often, Dylan, perceptual gaps: they are small black-out that the brain active at a particular moment - in response to a shock, often, or in front of a reality too traumatic.
He never thought it could happen one time just before X, though. Just when the plan seemed unassailable - when half the work was already done. When there was so little, to the fateful dinner. Just a few hours.
Glued to swallow.
I can not believe - can not accept it.
never survive such a catastrophe.
"decaying" screams while her mother, beside herself. "A full wrap shrimp rotting in the custody of your guitar, Dylan!" But he is
bleached - the blood fell to the feet.
"I think Ash has forgotten them ..." fuming, in a faint voice.
"Ash?"
"Now that I think, were a birthday gift for Cathy ..."
Pause.
"You know how it is done, Ash," resumed, Aton. "He has too good taste in these things ..."
Nor is it convincing, if only to realize it, yet finds the strength to react.
I can not think of anything but his dinner - the key part of his plan.
Deleted.
He had also prepared the candles - the music. Pepper, ginger and chilli and paprika.
is about to burst into tears.
"All right, all right!" He exclaims, before her mother translated into words, the rise of the eyebrow. "Crayfish are mine, I have hidden there because I wanted to make a surprise dinner for Chris! To say goodbye, you know? The Last Supper! Cooked by me, leave a memory! Something I could not forget that ... "
You press his hand over her mouth, stifling a sob.
And he sent away his brother, therefore, sent him to spend a weekend alone. He left after
worried about his fever - he cheated. And betrayed.
at all.
Despite the euphoria of the plan, to Dylan's last days were not easy at all: Ash shortness of breath, night, and there was the smell of her hair on the pillow. There was
his image printed in dreams - that he went down one by one the steps of the house, which turned one last time before getting into a car with his black bag. Before leaving a fearful silence behind him. And there was anxiety
thin - undefined - to weave the plot of every moment without him. To blur the edges as if time flowed differently. Slower at times. Or faster. But never in a family, without ever being collected.
actually wanted to tell his brother to tell him of the plan and also has a little 'fear. Chris's watch that makes you want to do sinful things of the world, at times, and in others only to run away. Let it go, maybe. Stay
child.
But now - now that his mother is standing there in front, with that box of shrimp smelly hands - Ash wants to be by his side just to see him turn his eyes to heaven. To be sure that the world is collapsing as it seems, after all, because he is always puffing. That shakes back, engaging the ear to ear.
With shaggy hair. With its mournful shirts.
"Yes, well ... The fact that Chris would have remembered a long time, your dinner, no doubt about it ..." she sighs, resigned, and Dylan can not help but notice what looks like her brother at times.
"I miss Ash," he cries, depressed. "And I have a fever ..."
"I'm already softened, Dee," she says, sitting on the edge of the bed. "It is not necessary that you commit so much."
"And tomorrow he'll go away too Chris ... And my shrimp are rotten ..."
"You can always cook something else, you think?"
"No ..."
"Why is not it? "
A sigh.
"I am red."
"Shrimp?" Application for her mother, raising an eyebrow. "So what?"
"They remind me ..." he exhales, glancing heartbreaking.
and did not believe that would be so easy - Would never have thought of being able to cope with the disaster that cool.
Half an hour later, perched on the kitchen bench, noted with delight the window of the microwave into which the lobster has remedied that his mother is slowly turning and considers that he should have thought from the start, the freezer at home.
It would save a lot of trouble. And he could spend the money to buy the new shrimp glaze color pink I love you I .
The truth is always too much to worry - too much responsibility for a child: as now, that has to be careful at the same time the beep of the oven, the pot of water to sauce pan.
the moisturizing mask that was smeared on her face.
"OddioOddioOddio! The six and a half! "Exclaims, alarmed, jumping off the stool with a single leap.
Hold on for twenty minutes to get your skin smooth and silky , was written on the packaging of the cream. And who knows how to count exactly how many minutes have elapsed since he spread, Dylan, but that she had already had to remove a piece that's almost guaranteed.
Leaning to look at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, it gives a disgusted grimace.
"Bleah. This sucks ... " mumbles, moving his fingers gently on the reliefs of the cheekbones.
The mask has formed a greenish film on the skin - a gelatinous stuff that seems to mud. O Light toad.
Blood elf.
For a moment - at once - the panic seems to dig the bowels.
"Gone away!" Dylan began, hurrying to snatch the first residue from the face of that green stuff.
The alarm of the microwave stops his hand in the air, though.
widened his eyes, spun around toward the door.
"Oh crap! The lobster! "
think the cream after - decide:" Now the most urgent thing is remove from oven and push quickly the beast in the pot. The water is already boiling, for that matter.
And the sauce has become black. Better off. Already smells a bit 'burnt ...
"Ahhhhhhhhhh !!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Jumping back, clinging to the edge of the table with both hands, had not realized how lobster was awesome until it's fully thawed appeared on the plate of the oven, with those of his sprawling legs. With those telescopic antennas - with all those bumps. Prehistoric aspect.
shudders.
Groping, lengthens carefully the arm to reach a fork: holds its breath, a step forward. Clenching his eyes, trying to harpoon the hideous crustacean.
"OddioOddio" exclaims, colliding with the shell of the shell. He
goosebumps.
To calm himself, he is forced to walk up and down the kitchen, breathing deeply. Launching
quick glances around, meanwhile, desperate for inspiration.
Perhaps you could hook it with the andirons in the fireplace - if there was a fireplace in the house.
Or it could throw on a towel. Two. Three.
Take it while it's nice covered by sponge - completely invisible.
"Mamma !!!!!!!!!!!" screams the other hand, pressing his back against the wall.
"Mammaaaaaaa !!!!!!!!!!" insisted desperately.
When his mother finally enters the room, the air has alarmed those who expected the most terrible disasters. Yet nothing seems to have prepared for the vision of a child smeared against the wall, his face covered with green jelly. Eyes wide - spectrum.
jumped, lets out a strangled groan.
"Dylan!" He exclaims, holding her hand over her mouth.
But he shakes his head, raises his hand.
Trembling slightly, indicating with his finger the door of the microwave.
"The lobster ..." stuttering. "I do not know how to put it in the pot ..."
"Do not you realize you're burning the sauce, I do not see the smoke??" She snapped, rushing to turn off the stove.
He always had a great ability to react, his mother. Dylan must admit.
"And what you put on your face, what is that?!?"
"Do you think I cooked too much?" He murmured, dare to stretch their necks to peer into the pan.
"Dee, do not tell me is my mask of cucumber! That disappeared two years ago - the one you swore not stealing! "
" I have not stolen it, "comes the answer, cautious. "I only borrowed. Just give me the pocket money buys you, I promise ... "
" But you realize that a piece will be expired by now? "
" Expired like? "
" Go at once to get that stuff from face, do me a favor! "
" I put the lobster in the pot? "
other side of the kitchen, she sighs.
And while the lobster floats at last in an embroidery of bubbles and steam Dylan new approaches to the bathroom mirror - again wrinkled her nose in the usual grimace in disgust.
again is going to wash my face - stretching your hands under running water.
again - suddenly - it freezes in mid-gesture.
"Seven!" He exclaims, turning the wrist for a better look at the clock. "The seven are the seven already!"
is very late - Chris will be home in less than an hour and he still has to wear a dress. Must stop to make dinner, prepare the table. Light candles and give the enamel on the nails and straightening hair. Make-up.
But above all - above all! - That we must hasten to implement the most difficult part of the plan: get rid of her parents.
is that the biggest unknown factor, the aspect that has worked with most attention when it came to plan the details. In
quickly left the bathroom to return again in the kitchen, the lobster is still boiling, Dylan has not the slightest idea whether it is already cooked or not. What is certain is that he did not grant it more time - not now. Without hesitation
grabs the colander, the system in the sink. He closes his eyes.
"Okay," he says to himself. Takes breath. Then
down water and lobster in the sieve, holding a thrill, groping for a tray. And that's it! When the cilia
reopens chilling crustacean is sitting exactly where it belongs: in the middle of the plate.
With great satisfaction he is watching from a safe distance and thinks that he does not remember ever having done anything as heroic in the whole of her life: dealing with the firm such a monster. For love!
If the meal had to be the best of culinary, Chris will certainly be proud of him just for the courage. The dedication.
Sighing, she smiles happily. Step Three
finished, on the cell type, setting the number of Babs. "Start phase four."
is delighted.
trotting happily through the apartment to reach the living-peeping through the door, looks around. Find the figure of his mother sitting on the couch.
"Dad where is it?" Question, weird.
From afar, she lifts her head from the book he is reading.
"Dylan!" Exclaimed, straightening his back. "I told you to remove that crap from my face!"
"Dad?" He repeats, without badarle.
"It went to take a shower, said the ashes and will put you to bed. Had a headache ... "
" Oh, good! "
" Well? "
" Well ... I mean going to bed, so he rests ... "he tries to remedy, coughing. "You've got a bad wax, anyway ..."
"Thank you," replied the woman.
"You have a scary face ..."
calmly, she raises an eyebrow. "We want to talk about your face, Dee? "
Dylan shrugs.
"But I think it's just fatigue. Maybe a little 'stress. You know you need? "
" Someone who adopts my son? "
" No! "Snorts Dylan, annoyed. "A nice hot coffee!"
"Where's the catch?"
"What trick?"
turning his eyes to heaven, she sighs.
"Go for the hot coffee, then," grants, while Dylan is already starting satisfied to the kitchen. "But not poison him, okay? "he adds, and he blocks the steps at once.
remains motionless for a moment, not even breathe.
swallows.
"But no, can not suspect anything ..." he repeats to himself, pressing his hand on his pants pocket. "It was just a joke of his. Everything is normal ... "
The bottle is still there safe, and he goes back to catch his breath.
clarity should be maintained and not be impressed by coincidences.
Everything is going well at the end - there is no rational reason to worry.
Now prepare the coffee, it will bring a cup to her. A cup to his father. Wearing clothes stolen from the closet the runaway's mother Candy, light the candles. It will finish the lobster season ...
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Sitting at the kitchen table, the father of Dylan startled as if by a pin point sharp.
Nutcracker in his hand shooting with force - the lobster claw fly on the refrigerator.
He screams in turn, raising his eyes on the face of the child.
Sky Dylan, you scared me! " exclaimed breathlessly. "What's wrong on the face??"
"My lobster !!!!!!!" he moans, holding both hands over her mouth. "You ate my lobster!"
"your lobster?"
Interdict, the man looks at the plate.
"I had my dinner ..."
"It was not your dinner, the dinner was Chris ..." Dylan yelled, furious. "I had cooked myself! For him! "
" Oh, really? "
Silence.
"I had come good, however," considers the other, while his wife appears in the doorway of the kitchen. "Maybe just a little 'rough ..."
"What's going on, what have to yell like that?"
"My lobster!" Dylan does not seem able to say the least. "He ate my lobster, it ate all!"
"No, on ..." sorry, man indicates the pot. "The legs are left ... and even a claw ..."
"Mammaaaaaaaaaaaa !!!!!!!!!!!!!"
"Play Dee, your father has not done on purpose," she sighs, throwing a dirty look in the direction of her husband. "Unfortunately it happened, these things happen. We do it this way: you go to wash my face now and in the meantime I'll cook something for dinner, okay? "
" But something what?? "He moans. "We no longer crustaceans, and I explained that I need something red!"
"A salad of carrot?" Dares his father. But Dylan
screaming, hysterical, railing against the parents to push them both out of the room.
closes the door, then - he drops his chair.
Traps tears, looking around with a troubled countenance.
Inside the pot that had the hot sauce has thickened so lovingly prepared in dozens of terrible lumps blacks and lobster, amputated of its prehistoric every bump, lying belly up on the edge of the tray with the bowels dug. The claws chopped off - the tail twisted. Planted the knife on the head, at eye level.
carnage.
"My dinner ..." he muttered, unable to console themselves. "You can not ..."
Slowly reaches out to the plate: gathers the legs of the animal in complete silence, aligning them one by one as if it were precious relics to be saved. It does the same thing with the tail - with the antennas. The claw of the only surviving fragment.
It's not the dinner that he was planning to serve, that, but if her father has eaten the meat of the lobster in touch Chris biting their legs, like it or not.
Dylan can not give an aphrodisiac effect of shellfish - not just talk about it.
Resolute, down on the bowl of the sauce pan gray - seasoned with plenty of paprika and ginger adds a handful. A thick layer of chili, above. Pepe
in quantity.
"At the end is always a lobster," consider wisely while climbing the stairs, carefully balancing the tray in her hands.
Entering the room is always a certain effect, since Ash has started, but after the lit candles can already feel a bit 'better, the room is a light mellow, warm, and for a moment erotic fantasies take over everything.
Already we can see, draped in silk Candy from the mother, with a red feather boa around his neck and his hand resting gently on the side.
Chris will stay crunching the claws of the lobster, while - maybe half lying on the bed. He
incederà slowly, one step after another to reach. Up to fermarglisi opposite - lower the straps. Dropping the suit on the ground - hear it slip down my spine.
feel his gaze.

on the skin ... "Occavolo!" He exclaims, as soon as the hand that was touching his groin meets the relief of the bottle of sleeping pills.
Quickly, his eyes run to check the clock: the clock is ticking. Must hurry!
again closed in the kitchen, shortly after, wait impatiently while the coffee is ready and try to quantify the dose of medicine that should be paid the cup will have to adjust the weight of the person to fall asleep? There will be a standard requirement?
have no idea.
He only knows that when he went to steal the bottle from the bedside of his mother there were no leaflets, around, and he can not risk that her parents will wake up mid-evening - at the most crucial maybe. No way! Better
abound.
Half a bottle should be to protect him from any risks - meditation, satisfied.
Yet, as with the cups in hand across the aisle to get back into the living room, inappropriate and persistent inner voice began to repeat the mantra of dark grief and misfortune.
if it's dangerous, Dee? whispers one of them, sinuous. If
fell into a coma? rages another.
your fault! Combining
eyebrows angrily in a grimace, he snorts. There were only
scruples of conscience, now! As if he needed more smoothly, as if there were already too many things to worry about!
And if you die?
"Mammaaaaaaaaaa !!!!!!!!!" moans, throwing open the parlor door.
the couch her parents heave in unison.
"Mom ..." coughing Dylan, lowering his voice. "I brought this coffee, you know ..."
glares at his father. Fast. "And to you, here ..."
"Really?" Asks the man, straightening his back. "To digest the Arag ...?"
"You are very kind, Dee," interrupts the wife, handing a nudge in the ribs. "You then find something else to cook? Are you sure you do not want a hand? "Your mom ...
whispers the voice, full of emotion. What ever you do without your beloved mother, Dee?
"I get along very well alone," he muttered, grimly. "At least this is not the risk that someone devour everything!"
His father clears his throat, embarrassed.
"Here, drink!" Dylan ago, handing the coffee with a gesture, only to meet his eyes - eyes sink a few seconds. Remembering younger half-closed on a book of fairy tales and the voice tells of princes and fairies. White horses. While censors any mention of gnomes - angering Ash.
This is your dad, ago this little voice, any of the two. What you read fairy tales when you were little ...
What did you learn to play guitar ...
And you're addicted!!
"Thanks love," smiles the man, leaning forward to take the cup.
I called LOVE ...
"So we have peace?" Question, confident. "I've forgiven him?"
"No!" Dylan exclaims, snatching the cup from his hands.
Coffee boiling it down on his pants, his father let out a yell. His mother rushes to the rescue of her husband, alarmed.
"I changed my mind, no coffee this time!" He exclaims, with steps across the room angry. "But I warn you," threat from the doorway. "If someone dares interrupt my dinner there I'll drink one liter each, a full liter! Without absolutely no scruples, I swear! This is a promise! "
" But it's crazy? "Stammered her father.
His mother shakes her head, resigned.
"I'm going," Dylan ends then, pointing the finger in their direction. "When Chris arrives, send it on to me. And remember the promise, I strongly recommend it! Something to say? "
Silence.
"Take off the mud from his face, Dee."
"Perfect!" He grunts, disappearing into the corridor. So now
must also worry about his parents - snort - as if it was not enough to seduce a man challenging!
Not sure of being able to give their best knowing that those two wandered the house - they are able to break into his room at any moment.
But no, you're wrong! voice spoke cautiously. You know that your have always been discreet
... "Shut up you!" He growls. "Nag"
not even have the strength to send a new message to Candy - have the feeling that whatever he might bring bad luck. And then would not have time, anyway.
almost eight, and he has not yet tried the dress! Has not yet chosen the enamel!
There is no time to lose.
Climbing the stairs two at a time rushes in the room, closes the door, opened the closet.
making their way among the gloomy shirts Ash, recover hidden behind the silk dress jackets. The
to cry - he is always crying in front of the silk.
There is nothing in the world more moving for Dylan. Even the feathers. Nothing.
let your fingers slip on the slick texture of the fabric, enchanted, and thought that would give anything to be able to always dress well.
But if you always dressed so would not be so excited, now - would not address that point with my heart in my throat. With the excitement that vibrates beneath, like a shiver.
In fact he likes the idea of reserving Chris something so rare and precious.
"Hmmm ..." sighs, closing his eyes, when the fabric glides over the skin.
He feels very sinful - no one else in the world knows that this is completely naked and holding on to him a very special charm.
The charm of the secrets, in a sense.
of the forbidden.
moistened his lips, slowly approaching the mirror, holding the eyelids tight - focusing on the rub of the fabric along the sides. Along the thighs.
"Okay ..." she whispers.
Piano, opens his eyes.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhh !!!!!!!!!!!"
not expecting it, he remembered that he still face the damn cucumber cream!
The shock is so violent that Dylan jumped backward, stepped on the hem of her dress falls down. Something
tears, something falls on his head. The hair hang up somewhere.
He shouts again, in terror.
"No, the dress !!!!!!!! The dress! "
going to have a panic attack - is to feel bad. Or to burst into tears.
has already started crying, in hindsight.
"The dress, the dress ...." Continued to sob, dazed, while pulling up. While time to assess the damage and discovered a giant tear on the buttocks. Just there.
As a joke!
"The dress ..." he repeated, in tears, unable now to articulate any other word.
Beside himself rushed to the bathroom, turn on the tap. He washes his face, convulsively.
"The dress ..." still sobbing, clutching the towel.
"The dress ..." moans, lifting his head.
"The ves ..." The litany
stops suddenly, he blinked.
brought her face close to the mirror, still flapping her eyelashes.
He tilts his head.
blinked.
And let go of his arms at his sides, then - you drag it back into the room.
slowly past the wine, lobster legs, the bed. You pass the yellow enamel
Pants on fire and the color a bit Flit. What color I'm not Really a Waitress - which had nearly chosen.
Exceeds the rubble of his plan of seduction, the absence of his brother, the soft light of candles.
The feather boa.
It transcends everything. When
crouches in the shadow end of the room is only around him - Dylan holds the knees in his arms and buries his face in his matted hair.
Skin smooth as silk - the label said the cream.
Her face is completely ruined, however, punctuated by dozens of red spots.
disfigured forever.
Nor is it yet another failure of his plan to make that knowledge so heartbreaking - it is almost absolute certainty that no one will ever look at him let alone have sex with him. Do not you imagine the look of the people, or one of his companions. To Chris. You
Ash, especially - lost their similarity.
The foundation of the world who seem to waver, the reference points confused. The sense of loss, paralyzing.
Terror.
"Dee?"
Nor has the strength to wipe his eyes when Chris enters the room - not even move.
In a sense it's like anything concern him only marginally, now, as if everything happening on a plane too far away.
There is silence around, and the candlelight is shielded from the hair. The face is hidden against her knees, motionless.
"Dee ..." repeated the other, cautiously.
But he remains firm - continues to cry quietly. No noise.
has the feeling that any sound might make only one more real catastrophe - like when he was small and curled up under the covers for fear of the dark, without even finding the courage to breathe.
do not hear much grown since then - just a little 'more lost, perhaps. Inadequate.
And the voice of Chris does not help, because Dylan does not recall having ever heard in a modulated tone so sweet. So intimate and friendly.
"What's up, mh?"
is almost a whisper, but the lump in my throat is immediately closer.
Without answering, shaking his head slowly.
"From ..."
Silence.
"It's Ash?" Chris mutters again, running his fingers through his hair.
Dylan bites a shiver through his teeth - Tighten the muscles of the shoulders. Take
just back him when he slipped his hands to the sides of the face.
"Dee?"
She never found the courage to look in his eyes if he were not closed with chin between his fingers and his face suddenly raised - discovered by the hair.
not expecting it - not because he opposed the resistance.
"No, do not look!" Exclaims, trying to break free from the socket. "Do not look do not look!"
"But ..." In front of him, Chris seems to hold back a laugh. "I know you've done that, Dee?"
curled against the wall, he sinks his teeth into the lip.
"I have a full face ... ..." A sob - strangled. "The red bubbles ..." ends in despair. "I know you've seen ..." Pause. "I do not want your pity ..."
"What ... Pity? Dee, you have the nose a little 'flushed! What bubble are you talking about? "
" You must not do, Chris ... "
"But what?"
Silence.
"compassionate telling lies ..." he whispered softly. "There is no need, really ... not ..." Reversing his eyes to heaven, the other pulls him up.
"God, if you are dramatic ... Have you looked in the mirror, at least, before you start crying your beauty faded?"
"No, Chris!" Is now the cry, heartbreaking. "Please, I can not do it, not me ..."
blinked, Dylan suddenly shuts up.
There are two figures, the reflection of the glass in front of which it is pushing his friend, a boy almost blond, very attractive, sufficiently amused. Chris, no doubt.
On that there is raining. And a
someone with hips wrapped in silk - with the straps down, and eyes red from crying. And the hair more tousled than Ash - wildest.

him that he in fact is not recognizable, well dressed, but that is tilting the mirror in front of a face on the surface there seems to be nothing more that look like boils red just before - nothing that is too different.
There is only the wet trail of tears on her cheeks, and the imprint of the teeth on the lower lip. The light of a relief evident in her eyes. And maybe just a hint of embarrassment, immediately after, while the legs move a half step backwards. While he paints a slight smile in the direction of Chris, and hair system. And adjusting her dress, quickly.
clears throat.
"Yeah, well ..."
Pause.
"I was joking, anyway ..." stutters. "It's not that I was seriously worried, eh ..."
"Certainly not. Of course. " Amused, the other holds a smile. "It was obvious you were playing."
"playing, that's right ..."
"Exactly."
"Yeah."
"Besides, you also put in costume ..." grins Chris and Dylan chuckles in turn, not understanding. Looking around - meeting her reflection in the mirror, and the right shoulder slipped on his arm. The black silk dress. The
dress.
start.
"The dress!" He shouts, eyes wide in a still image of sheer horror.
"The dress !!!!!" again, perhaps for the hundredth time since he set foot in that room.
Suddenly, the connection is chillingly clear: the brute sought to compare her gorgeous sexy dress for a masquerade - a ridiculous caricature of third-rate theater!
And maybe it's the weariness of tears, perhaps disappointed by the ultimate failure of his plan.
Maybe it's that Chris has dared to denigrate the silk - sore. Mined land.
But even before the mind can assess the actual need for a full-blown hysterics Dylan has already exploded, is already sinking his hands hair. We have already forgotten about the tear down and is walking up and down the room as if to burn the ground. Burn it all.
building, at a safe distance, Chris is watching him curiously.
"How dare you, you bunch of ungrateful and cowardly brute?? As if all the misfortunes of my life does not depend on your aesthetic pathological Neanderthals, as if it was not your fault that I almost disfigured his face! "
calmly friend raises an eyebrow.
"My fault?!?"
"Yours, of course! For those who believe that I have made poached shellfish, what the hell kind of reason that I think is coated cucumbers on my face? "
" I have to say? "A cry
furious - strangled.
"I did it to prepare the damn aphrodisiac dinner, to be irresistible! Why you decide to look for once, because I wanted to ... "
Silence.
Suddenly, Dylan blushed to the roots of hair.
"wanted?" Question Chris, angelic, stretching his arm to lift the shoulder.
But he does not answer - all of a sudden it's as if the voice had crumpled in her throat. And most
destabilizing is that all of a sudden you're realizing that the hand of the other is resting on his shoulder - that this shoulder is bare. What are bare knees, and back, and that the lips are very close to Chris. Just
close.
is starting to feel a bit 'hot.
"I wanted to ..." exhale, lowering his eyes.
"Yes?"
"Well, I wanted to ..." repeated, unable to even finish the sentence this time.
across the screen just chuckles hair - looks at the door. Take a breath, a little 'to fatigue.
"I do not think that women's dress is exactly the best strategy to seduce a gay guy ..." says Chris, making him slowly slip his hand from his shoulder to the neck. He still has that smile
fun on the lips - Dylan is almost certain to have detected the typical curve before the mind is disconnected from everything. It is certainly not the first time that his friend sinks his fingers through his hair - there seems to be anything too different from usual in that their interaction. And yet ...
"Hm?" Exhales.
Yet thoughts are inexorably collapsing in some unspecified point in the path that the hand of Chris traced to reach the neck and the brain appears to become unable to process any other stimulus than the sound of his voice. The sound and nothing else.
It's like a split net.
mind softened by the tone of voice, body fearfully sensitive. The skin dotted with chills.
cabbage. The
has created over a thousand times that moment, Dylan has always fantasies in a mischievous smile - he pressed the palm of your hand on the groin of the other and then he raised eyebrows by saying something like, "Wow "It is now completely paralyzed
instead. Perhaps because that resembles
both the reality - because there is a chance that Chris tried too many times if they come out at any moment with one of his jokes. But more than anything else because all of a sudden the muscles are petrified by fear crowds - only a fear of the intensity of the chills that dot the skin. Or the heat of excitement. At dizzy.
Catching his breath, raises his eyes on his face.
"It's because I'm leaving tomorrow?" I ask this in a whisper. "Last-minute panic, or are you really sure?" Without even
understand the reason, he blushes.
"Could you ..." He looks down - making instinctively closer. "Could you give me an easier question, please?" She whispers.
But Chris shakes his head, smiling, and he slides his fingers under his chin. The lifts the face, gently - he leans forward. Brush up your lips with his.
And other questions not addressed, for that evening. Fortunately. Why
had asked him anything from that point on, it was also his name, Dylan could hardly have been able to respond.







Sometimes there are lights that create atmosphere, or flavors that evoke memories.
Objects that become symbols.
is strange.
Sitting on a windowsill different in a different house, Dylan meets the rasta in a makeshift tail and thinks that the smell of the enamel has always reminded his fifteen years - the apartment he shared with his parents. The period in which Chris lived with them and that sense of security intact. His childhood, perhaps.
smiles. A
time taking hours to choose a color to spread nails and every choice he brought with him the regret to all those who had to give up accordingly. Now it has become incredibly
easy - in which the enamel is dipping the brush is transparent - did not name - and maybe he only realizes the infinite shades of color that takes on the color of light with certain conditions. With the sun, sometimes in the evening or at sunset.
is a bit 'as a secret. The
came often to laugh over the years, thinking back to his unlikely plan of seduction and lobster claws neatly lined up under a thick flow of hot pepper sauce.
you sure that you have sworn a thousand times to Chris not to tell a soul the matter of dress for women - has threatened him with death if he had dared to reveal to anyone what was nervous that night. Or what has proved awkward.
course the answer has always been a not very reassuring grin - you can be sure that some things never change. Are the cornerstones of your universe, after all - the foundation of your home.
And that's okay. What Dylan
still can not find is the exact moment when he has changed, though - when exactly it happened that as a teenager and hyperbolic airhead has been transformed in the boy that is now.
Maybe Chris would raise an eyebrow if you tell him that his first time, after time, does not remember much excitement or pleasure, or novelty of the contact with another body or the taste of kisses. Or tenderness.
recalls clearly curious details, rather like the fact of having him growled at least a dozen times before deciding to let him enter.
Remember that he was convinced that would never be able to sit down later, but that would have started from scratch anyway. He did not care at all.
And if you think back on those moments are his hands that tickle the best picture - not the sensual caress or touch more exciting. Or the intertwining of bodies.
It is a strange thing, memory.

yet ... And yet there is one thing missing in all this system of memories, more or less confused - a curious vacuum that has never been explained. Absolute lack of any pretext. And maybe the answer is right there.
Because there is a feather boa, in memory, to wrap every single moment of his fifteen years was leaning on her shoulders as Ash left for its first weekend alone, was twisted around his neck while he was stealing the draft by the bedside of his mother.
He was lying on his chest and peered through the holes in the locks - as he slept. In developing imaginative plans of seduction.
And he was still there that night - it is safe - when Chris touched him lips. Dylan
Then he smiled, tilted his head. Forgot your dress and silk and enamel that he would choose. And he wanted to show the sensuality.
He closed his eyes.
And from that moment, for some reason, the feather boas there was more.


END

Feather Boa by Roh and Fairy is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 Italy License .
Permissions beyond the scope of this license May be available at http://rosaventi.altervista.org/copyright.html

Fleetwood Travel Trailer Manuals

Game 2D Rosa dei Venti

Background.
's been years since I create a 2D game (two dimensions).
I've never been particularly good. ^ ^''
Anything I can do it on my "brother." And 'he's genius.
In fact, the result is also poor.
It 's a prototype / draft very demented to review all the basic functions. ^ ^
In the future, I'll add weather events, battles, dance, teleporters, and other locations with free access. ^ ^

Here to you the mini-game of the Rosa dei Venti.

"Dee and the gnomes of the forest."

(does this by trying to do it all, but I can not find the way ... so I shot while playing. XD)
Beware of seasickness! (Scusate. .. I waved the camera as a cruise ship -___-)

EDIT: Fixed (apparently).
Here is the link to the video, instructions, links to the game.

Click!

Edit: The second play. ^ ^ Click!
"Ash e i serpenti di Edward"
Copiare il file  RGSS102E.dll dall'altro gioco. Incollatelo nella cartella di quello nuovo e partirà.

Dark Yellow Foamy Urine

Villages ghost wedding tree ...

Oggi piove!
Tanto sono segregata a studiare per il (fantastico?) esame da 2600 pagine.
Quindi la cosa non mi tange. :D
Volevo mettere le foto della cittadina fantasma che ho visto la settimana scorsa (no... forse era quella ancora prima) ma aspetto pazientemente che qualche santo si decida a passarmele. 
Tutto ciò potrebbe richiedere mesi!
Non a caso aspetto still photos of Christmas past X ° D.

Edit: lie. The pictures have arrived. XD
the miracle!
I can not believe ...

Introducing Craco (Basilicata), with wood attached.
small country collapsed to flood in 76 '. Virtually
and landslides from the mountain. So it was abandoned and the inhabitants moved to Accettura. And
Cracow became a (legendary?) Ghost town.
where they shot a lot of movies. ^ ^ (Christ Stopped at Eboli, The sun even at night, Scorched Earth, The Passion of the Christ by Mel Gibson and the scenes of Quantum of Solace 007 ... etc)
Meanwhile, Accettura is a village hallucinating, it seems to go back 100 years! Then they
rites beautiful. ^________^
They marry the trees!!
^______________^
For this reason it is very popular abroad, especially in Germany, where trees are very popular these rites, although it is unknown to Italy all. XD Then
Craco considered a magical place because it sits halfway between the mountains and the sea.
I love him and I have to share with you. ^ ^

This mother believed that light was a ghost and I jumped in my arms! =_=''



These are the famous steps of the magic forest.
It is said that if you make them hopping on one foot and back without touching the ground or coated with both feet, you can make a wish that the spirits of the forest heard for you.
I have expressed the desire not to die in the attempt and it worked. XD Do you
.




This is what is most intact remains of Cracow.
The photo does not make it but it looks like a ghost town ... and it is. XD
There are also some nice keepers tell us that considerable efforts made in all sorts of harrowing ghost legend ... =_=''
(One has also sung the praises of Daniel Craig, the actor of 007 ... I felt very passionate about * rolls *)
I was terrified mother who did not want to get to see any house from within.
And at home he asked me to stay with her in Latvian [rubbish their parents is priceless XD ... but at least you know who I took my genius (?)].



This bridge is nonsense. Under
does not flow at all.
And 'long 3 meters and is completely useless.
But it's cute. \u0026lt;33 (the one that loves any kind of bridge-you have to show that CLA of Pavia, LOVE)





Then the mother saw garden gnomes means broken and shouted to the elves!
=_=''
Realize.
Then I do not know how it came out a speech on Maga Mago and I made a terrible confession ...
was her dream to be. XD
When I told her she lacked the magic just because we have the rest I kept the nose for an hour ... * Rolls *
Then I made peace with sandwiches and has forgiven me now. \u0026lt;333
Is not she cute? =_=''