Nadine Jansen Graphics

yoke which side are you? There is a crib in

"Why grow your hair?" asks, among other things Claudio Baglioni in his beautiful song a few years ago. Why grow a beard? - I wonder. It would rather avoid, even if several springs ago I tried to grow it with very little success on all fronts.
Over time I believe they are better off (in all senses) and the need to follow some simple rules on the management dell'indesiderato ordinary fleece.
Number one: do not ever get a beard in the afternoon, let alone in the evening (but this, perhaps, is normally shared by most of the hairy boys) to those hours of the day's beard is a lot more woody texture to wake up.
Number two: Do \u200b\u200bnot shave on the second day since the last, when the hair is too short and inflexible to be cut without the risk of annoying injuries, then choose The daily shaving, cutting the hairs just throws his head out and give him air until the third or fourth day.
Rule number three: to avoid as far as I'm concerned electric razor: especially in the neck I could hardly hope to get decent results considering the raw material.

short, understand that Mother Nature has run (or just my mother) has left me in a beard dowry among the most stubborn, hard to subdue, and that morning the condition of the undersigned, his face covered with gel foam in front of the bathroom mirror has nothing to do with the icons and the advertising industry, where the daffodils persuasive gesture dwarf sweet painters graceful in an attempt to settle the unbeatable under the last tetra-blade razor.

The point is that these blessed blades cost a fortune, so that it almost nearly ask for Christmas gift in a six-month basis gesubambino (it seems that Santa Claus does not know where to look for strut, just as it is accustomed to day work of the depilatory most of us mere mortals. Mal going, I will ask the whole concern, which at a guess it would seem some problems of hirsutism).
A pack of ten (razor blades, I mean) the other day I paid € sixteen and fifty. If you consider that the same blade can keep up with my beard combative for no longer than two rounds at the end of the month is a nice nest egg that goes to a looming of which - as mentioned - I would rather avoid.

Of course the manufacturers of these kinds of comfort, if only they wanted, they would know how to tear out the blade out of the hat indestructible, that proof indestructible beard. But in defiance of the half of mankind and to the delight of their CEOs continue to believe that it is much better to go ahead with the disposable. The alternative would be to go back to the old barber's razor, affiliated to the leather when it is necessary, but the idea of \u200b\u200bhaving to handle up areas so worries me a bit delicate.

So it goes without saying that the humble razor, especially these days, has become a valuable commodity. So that the shelves of supermarkets is now kept under lock and key in tough squared like shoplifting in order to avoid misappropriation.

And so, as the most patient cashier traffic not just to release the product packaging dall'ingombrante armor-robbers chases, the ATM by entering the code again I we recall the verses of a song I can not remember the title. The one where Frank Sinatra raises another question (but how many questions are the songs!) but this time decisive

"Which Side Are You?
're on the side of To Be A Superhero?
or who built them stealing? ".

Merry Christmas.

***

120-55 Queens Criminal Court

Christmas Island



is a few days ago the news of a boat over the rocks Australian island of Christmas Island, loaded to capacity with men , women and children allegedly coming from Afghanistan or Iraq. The island is only three hundred kilometers from the Indonesian coast, far enough to induce crowds of desperate groped to take off from war and misery.

is always the same sad story of people forced to sail to power, that told the terrifying images sent by a national news. Witnesses speak of yet unseaworthy vessels approaching the coast of Christmas Island staggering (and never was more ironic name!), While the stormy ocean does not care even for presence of children exhausted by seasickness .

I try to imagine the screams and terror in their eyes. I try to feel the petrifying fear in the hearts of fathers who have led them right there. I try to put myself in place of those mothers who cling hands and hopes. Finally, I try to see my son on that same boat, just before the timber comes apart against the cliff. I see him falling into the water, but I try to catch a wave higher sends him crashing into the rock and then hide it in my eyes.

Provo, yes. Because only this way I can begin to stand next to a less distracted this pain, tossed in a news story in a rough sea of \u200b\u200bso-called information. I want to stand in the shoes of those poor people who have dreams and needs quite equal to mine, to me very similar if not for the courage that only enormous hunger and too many tears can give to a man.

There is a Christmas crib Island, a crib for children forced to leave, for which once again he has not wanted to find a place in the hostel in the world. Children still poorer than that their illustrious contemporary Bethlehem, because the rock star dreams in the night did not hear quiet chants of mothers, but the furious cry of the sea. And the members do not numb the comfort of the breath of animals and good-natured friends, but the hostile wind and cold of the elements that seem to attract a miserable little boat on any kind of misfortune.

There is a crib in Christmas Island, an extreme crib and placed on the dark waters of a marine graveyard, another of all those scattered across the globe. No star comets to show the way of some way out, nor the heavens opened, the angels came to tout the glory of a God who seems to be here all except Almighty.

But then God got to do what? It is rather the injustice procured by men to turn into a death camp in what was originally the garden? Not the vortex of personal and collective selfishness, which have so firmly taken root everywhere, to determine the impoverishment of ever greater masses of people to her children? Where was God then? Always the same question resounds when men and women find themselves helpless in the face of pure evil in one way or another, have contributed to, in thoughts, works and omissions.
Where is God? In the midst of the storm, perhaps asleep, resting peacefully on the pillow at the stern.

Surely, if there is a God, he is on that boat in the middle of the crib tremendous.
who is "powerful only to love and from which nothing escapes his hand to what has been called into existence, it is certainly there, once again voted to perish with that perishes. And to show everyone, especially to children and the humble, from Christmas Island in this latitudes, the new heaven and new earth. That which was finally settled by the courts, where they live.

***

Etf Thailande, Malaisie, Vietnam

First Winter at the San mt 1682 - Winter in the 4/12/2010

not take much to decide the destination of today.

given the heavy snowfalls

wonderful day and decide to go and enjoy the sunset over Mount St.
first.

http://www.brezzadimonte.com/sanprimo.htm

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Grignone 2409mt - November 27, 2010 High Crossing

The abundant snow has fallen in recent days
legs and mood need of a long and arduous journey

to get up again. What better choice

that Grignone get on with Andrea?

http://www.brezzadimonte.com/grignone.htm

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The colossal mess of "ever greater"

megalomania is a psychopathological condition characterized by fantasies of omnipotence that naturally go along with those to be infinitely rich, valuable, beautiful, famous ... Psychotic is the removal of any awareness of the limit. And above all, a total inability to recognize the limit value.
Everything clashes this obsessive vision of things has run away in horror: the smallness, the slow, inadequate, disability. Until the repudiation of his own personal condition which, by nature, and time is always limited.

megalomania is the substantial inability to grasp the reality for what it is. And most of all to appreciate. Because the idea of \u200b\u200b"ever greater" is not reflected in real does not exist in nature an entity which is expected to grow indefinitely. Animal life from that of the stars, everything is born, grows, declines and disappears. Or if you want changes.

And then we are victims of a gigantic scam whenever someone raises the possibility of unrestrained growth and presents it as admirable and desirable.
Thus, for example, in times of economic crisis, we witness the depressing spectacle of a politician who breaks out from the stage, and purple states that "Italy must grow, grow, grow ...." Like the frog

Phaedrus, who wanted to be something so grossly different from oneself, simply ended with the outbreak of unhappiness.

***

How Long Can Chow Mein Be Saved

... Grigne - 10/10/2010 ...

up and down along the ridge between

Grigna and Grignone

in the company of Andrea,

the sea

clouds below and then above us ...

the mountain and its endless magic ..

http://www.brezzadimonte.com/grigne.htm

Scaricare Design And Repeat By Nedgraphics

... Rome in October 2010 ...

The magic of the Roman streets, discovering

hidden corners and

in the company of Matthew ...

http://www.brezzadimonte.com/roma.htm

Erythematous Maculopapular Rash Hiv

Peak of Mount Cross Scale mt 2495 - 06/11/2010

finally a sunny Saturday, with
Gabriel, Riviera and Aidin

climb the mountain stairs .. .

along a path of the Great War

http://www.brezzadimonte.com/scale.htm

Can I Get Points On A Eu Driving Licence

Pretend nothing



"The worst sin against our fellows is not hate, but indifference: this is the essence of inhumanity "George Bernard Shaw



***

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Sunset

My Sunset is here.

silence has
the swallow flew away.

uncertainty has
of treetops
swaying in the wind.

He
the inconsistency

the gray sky above the night.

My God, help me!

Elsa Gelso

***

Fax Confodentiality Statements

... Cristina Excursion to the first refuge ...

Last trip in October,

first snowshoes in Valmalenco

the valley is a riot colors, gold and orange
everywhere!

http://www.brezzadimonte.com/cristinaciasp.htm

How To Make An Edible Animal Cell Jello

... fassa forum meeting 2010 ... Fitness trail

October 2010, the magic of autumn in Val di Fassa
...

http://www.brezzadimonte.com/ottobre10/

Favorite Recipe Sayings

The law of Bunga-Bunga

Stefano Cucchi, Federico Aldrovandi, Aldo Bianzino and many others who will remain anonymous belong to the ranks of people who every day suffer the abuses of the judicial system is not always the height of a civil and democratic country. All of them have been waiting and waiting in vain to get help when they are oppressed even unto death. Invoke the intervention of a relative, a friend, a lawyer who does not. The family of Stephen

knocked a thousand times at the gates of the prison health care arm in order to meet their loved one, which no one knew how to say them. He had heard from him only when he was already dead, murdered by beatings and neglect.

's cell phone rang Federico a thousand times in the "dawn of death" of September 25, 2005. His mother tried to locate him but no one answered while he was thrown on a road face down, with two agents back up to choke him.

The teenage son of Aldo called thousands of times the name of the father arrested for two plants of hemp planted in the garden. Not heard from again until they brought him in a coffin, a few days later.

imagine the nausea of \u200b\u200bthe family of Stephen, Federico and Aldo in the face of an unbiased news for the minor thigh long, caught stealing and taken to the police station, things have gone very differently, thanks to the timely intervention of the Prime Minister of government. Wonder why, after all? His good heart led him irresistibly to help (people) unfortunate, as long as young and handsome.

Who would have thought then? A magic word as if by magic opens the doors of police stations in the beautiful country, the chains on their feet as they fall miraculously in St. Peter's imprisonment in Jerusalem, and we are sent free as a bird in the sky of spring.
If necessary, therefore, do not lose heart: try using a-Bunga Bunga. It really works, at least in some cases. It is the law of BungaBunga and we are long since the banana republic.

***

Bulma And Goku Doushinji

There is a heart worthy of compassion. Do not forget your














We have compassion in our hearts. It is an exhortation or a warning, perhaps, first of all to myself. We can have because it is the cornerstone of being on this earth. It is the primary rhythm that unites us all, beyond ideological boundaries and fences: rich and poor, educated and ignorant, near and far. For the heart, we are only men and women only. And we can be gradually sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, fathers and mothers, friends and girlfriends.

It's just a muscle, just a muscle that opens and closes, capable of autonomous contraction. But without it we would not. There would be no trace of what we are, ie our awareness of being. No sign of our lack of intelligence or acute or our alleged ability or passion, which is filled with stories of the living. Because there is not even the imprint of the other body that is home to the same person, of ourselves: the brain. So more and fragile, it could not continue more than three minutes without the heart to pump oxygen and nutrients there.

Not to mention that between the brain and heart there is a big difference. The first fact, if the walk, passing through were very heterogeneous. So in Sleep able to concentrate and entertainment, receiving and sending a multitude of diverse stimuli and responses, the most different. Has certainly not to be bored: can experience the awareness of pain and on the other hand darkest amounts reach the heights of happiness, in a kaleidoscope of incredible emotional nuances. And then the brain rests, especially in the activity in sleep and dreaming. The heart no. The heart never sleeps. It is the worker on the assembly line, no room for imagination, no recreational opportunities. Only a being perpetually at work. No distraction, no rest required nor desired. It requires caring and compassion. Learning to listen. Talk to him. Shall we have a compassionate heart.

We have pity on our hearts. Is still said in optative sense: we can have compassion.
A heart that sometimes beat strong for fear of not succeeding or despair to see that someone else could not take it. A heart that has always had to deal with the deepest part of ourselves, so often chained to our self-imposed demands of perfection, that daughters are always the ones that are maybe not even that rained down from the outside without noticing. We

compassion of our heart, any heart is. Abbiamone pity, because every day is doing its best to get by. Why is the athlete holding the baton and diligently performs his stretch of the road, before giving way to another. Because only a small link in the long chain of hearts that have gone before us and who will come after us.

As the hearts of the land of our father and our mother, whoever they were or are that one day away now they were not afraid to meet in the fullness of their mere flesh. What little there was in that original heartbeat or a lot of awareness that there were weaknesses and inadequacies, what counts in the huge book of life? We would, however, we would still be born. And we are gathered here to thank or curse of having a heart. However, we would know the taste of sweet and bitter things could be said to exist.

For our heart, in fact, that is pure machine, we also thought, conscience and spirit. In
us - irrevocably called into existence, torn from some kind of abyss of non-being - breathe the breath of life. It will inspire, from world to world and from life to life, the way you do not know, from that moment he saw the first amniotic systole and early diastole. Since then and forever.

***

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Bepi Zac - 14/10/2010

another round another race ...
equipped trail Bepi Zac
San Pellegrino pass

unfortunately due to time

we only half way ..

Next September we will return to retrace these places
full of history!

http://www.brezzadimonte.com/bepizac.htm

Msds Patricia Nimocks

A man came from afar - Amedeo Minghi

Tribute to Pope John Paul II by Amy Grant. A man came from afar , sung in 1995 at the Vatican in the presence of His Holiness.

Text - A man who came from afar

Men came from far away.
's eyes the memory
wheat fields.
The wind of Auschwitz in my heart,
and meanwhile he wrote love poems.
Love, who comes from the heart of man,
for any other man.
Man came from far away.

pain and clutching a book in hand. Someone shot

that day I cried and I: The
but the whole world stood alongside.
That day, the world has found the heart,
the truth does not die.
A MAN THAT PART dressed in white.
FOR MANY COUNTRIES DO NOT SEEM TIRED
BUT NEVER IN HIS EYES deep sorrow:
SEE THE OTHER WAY OF THE WORLD,
THE WAR AND THE PEOPLE THAT CHANGE YOUR HEART.
THE TRUTH THAT DIE.
(CHORUS) "Go, sweet Big Man Go, go
speaks of Liberty."
Go where war, famine and poverty have also killed
dignity.
Go to this and remember my heart ...
(CHORUS) "Go and recalls in this heart of mine ..." What is Cain
.. me too.
From the East came the first blast of the trumpet:
the world stops,
something is changing!
A nation cries
"We want God
freedom is a gift of His only"

You open arms and encourage their children to be brothers.
(CHORUS) "Go, go sweet ..
Go Big Man, speaks of Liberty."
Go, where the man has only to sister
leprosy and flies on his lips.
Go, and recalls in this heart of mine,
(Chorus) "Go and recalls in this heart of mine ..." ... What are
Cain I also ....
... Cain is well .... I

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Gran Sasso - Monte Brancastello mt 2385 - 02/10/2010

Tasferta Roman
to know new friends
Mountain forum.

http://www.brezzadimonte.com/brancastello.htm

How Does Mucus In Stool Look Like

Stefano

Tomorrow night in Lecco remembers Stefano Cucchi, a year from 'murder in prison.

not forget, because it does not happen again. Maybe a friend, a brother, a son.

***

What Should I Wear To An Outdoor Rehearsal Dinner

Salveregina

When people start looking around and does not know which way to turn ... When
yawn and check the hours ... When
rather than keep quiet and try to listen ...
When the arguments are so lame ...
When the tone is so honeyed to give the nausea ...
When should remind you that you are talking to adults ...
When the look of reckoning vacillates between cautious and resentful
... When the carrots are now finished and already whirling his stick ...
when pairing with a smile every thought like a salmon going upstream ...
When the glass ceiling prevents any true exchange of ideas ...
When the politburo in full force without a word from the stage greets the parade ... When the host
of "yes men" can not wait to parade and cheer up some ...
When torticollis is by dint of having to nod
... When faith becomes an ideology and authority also mythologized
... When the Most Holy Trinity Insurance Agency
life ... When the Holy Spirit is a cardboard mask to wear opposite ... if the wind blows And a
salveregina heals everything, like aspirin ...

Then I would be listening to living elsewhere
flow tenacious, and indomitable
high,
far more wise and free, simple life

straight and true.

***

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'level - Toto

Every year, November 2, there is the custom for the dead

go to the Cemetery. Everyone should do this present

ago Chesta crianza;

each adda tene this thought.

Every year, exactly on this day,

of this sad and unhappy,

I go there too, and adorned with flowers

the grave stone 'and zi' Vicenza.

m'è year 'happened' navventura ...

after having completed the sad tribute.

Madonna! penzo there is, and that fear!,

but little 'curaggio veneers and anemia.

'O is made following, listen to me:

approaching closure of ll'ora:

I, Volume Volume, I was leaving

throwing a look at some graves.

"Here sleeps in peace, the noble lord Marquis

Rovigo and Belluno

brave hero with a thousand companies

died May 11 del'31"

'Logo with' a Curona 'ncoppa all ...

... under 'cross made' and bulbs;

three clubs' roses with 'national list' and mourning

Candles, candles and six candles.

Very Next 'a grave' this lord

nce was 'n' ata tomb piccerella,

was abandoned without a flower;

pe 'sign only' na Crucell.

E ncoppa 'cross as soon as you ligga:

"Esposito Gennaro - dustman"

, looking at ppena me was

study muorto without even nu bright!

This is the life! 'NCAP me Penzano ...

who had so much and who has not had anything!

Stu poor man expecting

about while at the other munno was beggar?

While daydreaming students penziero,

had ggià made nearly mezanotte,

and i'rimanette 'nchiuso prisoner,

muorto' and fear ... nnanze 'candles.

Everything 'nu Suddenly what' in the distance?

Two shadows coming 'on my part ...

thought: "This made me mme seems strange ...

Stong Sceta ... I sleep, or is it fantasy?

not fantasy, it was 'or Marquess:

c'o' Tubb, 'a sweet and c'o' coat;

chill'ato apriesso a isso a bad thing;

all stinking and cu 'nascopa Mman.

and chill certainly don Gennaro ...

'omuorto puveriello ...' or scupatore.

'Int' to study whether the 'nun ce Veco clear

so' and if muorto chest'ora to retire?

Putevano is' 'to me almost' nu palm

quanno 'or if fermaje Marquis' and bang, and

s'avota Volume Volume .. calmly,

dicette Don Gennaro: "Young !

I want to know from you, vile bastard, how dare

and how dare you

to bury you, to my shame,

next to me who are noble!

Caste is caste and it should be, respected,

You lost the sense and moderation;

your corpse had to be, interred;

but buried in the trash!

I can not suffer

your stinky,

ago

of end, then, you're a ditch

among your peers, among your people "

" Mr. Marquis , nun is my fault,

i'nun v'avesse fact chistu tuorto;

my wife was in ffa 'is nonsense,

the' What could make 'if I was dead?

It was alive I would make you cuntento,

seize 'a casciulella cu' and qquatt'osse

proper mo, obbj'...' nd'a study mumento

mme it dint trasesse n'ata to grave ".

" What aspects, filthy miscreated,

that my wrath reaches the surplus?

If I had not been a titled

I already get angry! "

" Let me see ..- take this violence ...

'In truth, Marché, mme so' Scuccato

'and you feel it and you lose' to patience, forget about

mme so 'muorto and I'll beat you! ...

But who Crida to be ... nu ddio?

Cca DINT, 'you really want leaders, the same? ...

... Dead are you and dead I 'am;

each comme to' na'ato is as such ".

" filthy pig! ... How dare you

compare thee I Could frame birthplace

illustrious nobles and perfect

that rivals Royal Princes? ".

" You here 'Christmas ... Pasca and Ppifania!

T''o really want 'to put' NCAP ... 'int'a brains

that staje still sick and' fantasy? ...

'A Death' or ssaje ched''e? ... Is a spirit level.

'Nu rre,' nu maggistrato, 'nu grand'ommo,

trasenno study canciello did have compiled point

which has the perzo all' to life and well 'or Nomme:

you nu t' he did it again chistu cunto?

So, listen to ssenti ... nun fa''o Restivo,

suppuorteme near-that you 'MOUNT?

Sti ppagliacciate 'and ffanno Sulo' and lives:

nuje simmo series ... we belong to death! "

Antonio de Curtis

in art Totò

Cervix Is High A Few Days Before Period

Necrophilia

A Church concerned to defend a little idolatrous traditions and wonder, what does that with the gospel? What has to do with that word he calls blessed those who "have not seen, yet believe" (Jn 20, 29)? Where is the "new wine" in an institution which on the one hand, it is proposed as a spiritual guide for the people, and the other calls for them continuously morbid curiosity with regard to biological realities, indicating - if not as a dogma of faith-like objects noble worship?

What kind of believer comes out from Marian processions, where people, under pain of anathema, is forced to give credence to the thesis dogmatic about "bodies" that would have soared to the sky, that argument simply collide with common sense and against the intelligence of any middle school boy of the same average intelligence? None or almost no one to take the responsibility to help us ordinary people to read symbols of Christian faith differently from how we would do with a shopping list or the news pages of the Journal of Vimercate.

Because it's much easier to leave things as they are, and pull forward between aspirations and devotions of all kinds, most often light years away from the history of the Nazarene. Who had more serious intentions and commitment, and whether what he wanted, was to eradicate the fear from the hearts of men and women who approached him. In particular, the fear of God, or rather, some of his images. Knowing full well, as later will support his illustrious disciple, the Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard, that "man is not troubled as a sinner, but because anguished sinner. "

free from fear, which is the root of all evil, even from the fear of finitude that grips every living thing. This Jesus wanted for himself and his friends, where he taught who had a Father and that, as children, were all brothers and sisters.

But where does "freedom of the sons of God" in the context of a faith characterized by traits necrophilia, which is concerned to see if in the display case once again the blood of the saint liquefaccia or not? Or run where a statue suddenly began to cry tears of suspected liquid blood?

Who knows.

***

Is It Inhumane To Neuter A Dog

Valmalenco - Monte Spondascia mt 2867 - Step Campagneda - 11/09/2010

"the kinder egg Valmalenco"

snubbed by a mountain mass that gives us

emotion after the other ...

http://www.brezzadimonte.com/spondascia.htm

Chi-chi And Bulma Fusion

September 13, 1958

The bride really now smiling, more relaxed after the laying as a bit 'stiff church. Finally got rid of the veil hath been entrusted to the hands of zealous friend or abandoned at the back of a chair somewhere in the reception hall, hundreds of designated seating positions in the ACLI, twenty meters from the parish.
Relatives and friends are gathered mostly by foot or aboard a moped, while only one was able to rent a car, thereby discouraging further assumptions for time shift during the day. And why move? Everybody knows that the kitchen is good air circulation in the house. Then pass from the sacred to the profane passing through the sunny Saturday is a matter of steps, thirty or forty in all, a trip accompanied by the crackle of joyous laughter, under a hail of rice that arrives to you in the eye in gusts.
Fiat Appia dark, with a bouquet of white roses below the rear window, waiting. It is for the young bride, who tonight will sleep elsewhere, away from the country she was born. He goes to flourish his twenty-three years not far from here, fifteen-minute bike ride or so, but her heart beats a little 'more powerful at the thought of leaving those streets that familiar with the faces that now smile like never before, while the organ kicks in the door behind wedding procession and spreads in the churchyard, and the bells remember, those who are not on the guest list, it's time to go home and put something on fire.
Only a few miles further on whether the bride will leave tonight, but it is a giant leap for those who, like her, life would plant trees rather than tear roots. And as the trees do not know how or when die but where .

The thinness of the twenty six years, the bridegroom smiles stronger than the flower that bears the crown. Next to the girl in time the beveled edges of a nature vehement, holds out his arm, I do not know whether to offer support or ask in return. Or simply groped the first confident steps of a dance to the happiness of abandonment - the only antidote to the pain of the world - as suggested by the right leg that he almost disappears into the pearly haze of the organ.

I admire the smooth moment of joy of two young men, whose years at the time, added together, do exactly my own today. And in the enchantment of a moment seen here seems out of time, they contemplate the unknowing courage to plunge into the flow of things. From their audacity to believe in happiness, despite everything that life had and would have reserved, others are born happy and others are waiting perhaps come to light.
So I pick up the paper memory of such a joy, just a little 'creased by time, and carefully put under the scanner camera. Imposed the values \u200b\u200bof acquisition and now a beam of light pierces the paper, revitalizing the old appearance.
now slowly on the screen clears the beautiful face of my father, my mother's serene gaze. The painstaking restoration requires patience, but I did not hurry. It's my way to stay with them and give thanks.

***

Gonilnik 6.14.10.6462

Velociraptor

The terrestrial bipeds are divided into two basic categories: humans and velociraptor. Damn bad luck for us, the second sub-humanoid, voracious and never satisfied, controls the fate of the planet, running economy, resources, politics, information.

What follows is the inevitable devastation.

***

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La Stampa: UFO, which begins to break a taboo?

Maria Grazia Bruzzone

A book, a preface and other political news report that perhaps something is changing. The UFO subject intrigues a lot of people, yet respectable journalists do not dare talk about it, if not to ridicule those who "believe", it was not about religions and you're forced to divide among atheists, believers or agnostics. Moreover, in bookstores and on TV ufology is a genre between fantasy and science fiction for a niche audience, albeit quite large. If Underblog to write back, it's because of a book just released in the U.S. and other news that is not the usual sightings.

The book 'UFOs: Generals, Government Officials and Pilots Go On the Record', edited by journalist Leslie Kean, published by Harmony Books and reviewed by various magazines and blogs. The Huffington Post devotes an article accompanied by 16 pictures with long captions. A text expected in UFO circles, such that for some weeks, to be fair, he had reported the imminent release a blog specializing in Corriere.it colleague. A book of journalism, politics with an intriguing foreword written by John Podesta, former chief of staff to President Clinton, then co-coordinator of the Transition Team Obama: not just the last came. And herein lies the novelty and significance of the thing.

Read More dendro

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Thank you, Romeo, silent priest

From our community apart from the priest, even one of the last for the great Ambrosian archdiocese, and in these hours is a bustle of people coming to greet him at the rectory. The faces speak for themselves, there is no need to say much. Eyes, especially eyes speak and say what he knows my heart.

I do not like at all the leaves, but I know it is goodbye forever casts a new light on the other, more genuine and true with respect to the changing glow of daily life. And even reveal our deep feelings toward him, who by education and excess reserve, each had carefully concealed in some crevice of the soul. Do not add anything to the separation relations among people, just the lights more gently, mitigating the harshness of the light and shade making visible that maybe it was simply a matter of veiled diopters.

Maybe that's why the Zen masters taught a practice designed to iron out the disagreements: they are displayed as if someone was going to leave us forever. It works against the wife, husband, parent, brother. It really works, for a moment if we are willing to be honest with ourselves and available at an inner change. Then compassion grows and we feel as a person, beyond the image that we took of her, is always a great gift and the gift consists essentially in its humanity, its path closely with all its limitations and his labors. And, indeed, the very limits and there are those efforts over time become familiar and dear. And the world would be incomparably more empty without her. And why say thank you to far outweigh those for which prolong the insane litany of recrimination. It's never too late to realize, says Zen wisely.

Don Romeo will probably go to the news as the pastor mezzaghesi quietest we've ever seen for ages now. More so than the words spoken, however valuable, will remember him for the silence that always accompanies innate. He himself is essentially a proposal for silence. Very it should be around when he talks about, otherwise you risk losing some vital hub of the speech. When he smiles, then, does it quietly. Even when she cries I think so. Even to say goodbye to those he meets on the street use the silence many times someone if it complains, because he would like to hear more clearly and distinctly, but on closer inspection is only a matter of refining the ear, as in music, or poetry.

I was wondering these days what does it mean that a Christian community for twelve years is driven by a man so meek and silent. Because even before the words even more that in the words of sacred texts, God continues to speak through people and their way of being present. The gift of God is always a person of flesh and bones. A person who comes, who accompanies us for a while and at one time leave us. Each of us is that for the other, as the angel who went to refresh the prophet Elijah who, tired and exhausted, wanted to die under the juniper.

It is therefore time to reap the benefits of a silent but strong testimony of faith and charity. It indicates a direction, a style that is required of us. How to say you've had twelve years (a biblical times!) To learn, now make good use of teaching. In a world that screams for everything and everything from morning to evening, rediscover the pleasure to communicate, relate, simply stay silent.

For the gentleness that makes him the role, Don Romeo will inherit the earth. Thus ensures the gospel of the Beatitudes. For his silence, however, what is the reward? An advance will probably be those eyes, gathered in clusters under the lime trees in the churchyard, grateful and sorrowful sweetness of a late-summer morning. Washes away some tears that perhaps could not see clearly: what remains, in softer light of September, they are fraternal traits of a simple, common ground, bless and thank.

***

Wavemaster Century Super X

Path of Flowers - Passo del Tonale

last the first railroad,

much emotion,

and a lot of desire to another rifarne

http://www.brezzadimonte.com/tonale.htm

Digital Playground Stream Full Free

Valmalenco - Fontana top mt 3070

One step at a time by past experience also

this is 2009, but a day

so beautiful could not be revived ..

http://www.brezzadimonte.com/fontana.htm