Pokemon Snap Emulator Mac

The musician

The train was about to leave the "big station" Termini and passenger systems, each digging and placing their own "niche" that would serve for the duration of their trip to defend themselves from others, or to try to weave a mundane relationship, so vague and tenuous that it would then melted like snow in the sun, in a flash of time, finished the trip and the need to make a solitude.

few come by train to live, not needed, as most of us passes on a bus, hiding behind the headphones of the iPod, or on the pages of a book or behind the screen of the laptop, someone tries to they see others as human, just like him, but few last Mohicans, scattered on the carriages of our country as a dying breed.

The boy, perhaps as early man, about 35, had his beard a bit 'long, not unkempt, but wanted the CIS, it was clear, gave him an attractive appearance, a bit' as an actor in some TV dramas, is brought a trolley like almost all the trains, but on the shoulders (in the case betrayed the object) also had a guitar. While

settles in at an angle to my place, the guitar and he fell to the ground, uttering expletives so low, but evident from his facial expression, picked it up and managed to find a safe place on the rack above his seat.

He sat by the window and disappeared from the scene, for now, returning to the mass of passengers "lined up and covered" the Frecciarossa about to embark on the mad dash to the Roman countryside, burning times and to act quickly to all of us .

Just when the conductor was about to blow the whistle, a woman arrived breathless, he had run, are often quite out of breath, but recovered quickly, placed the bag next to the best guitar, left abandoned on the seat beside the boy and finally calmed down as the train moved slowly, at the start. The train

left Rome, and while the campaign was beginning to pull out of the windows, somehow the two began to talk, perhaps because he read a few score, and she spoke of a daughter who was studying music ... I do not know, but I heard it in passing.

The words reached me anyway, I was careful about what I read, not too badavo them, but I was curious about the scene. I did not know if it was he who was attacking and trying to talk to the gallant, or simply if they were talking and she just tried to calm exchange of words, as happens every day all of us.

I read and felt at one meter distance that the dialogue continued, and felt that he, the boy was very experienced and versed in music and in the show (indeed one that goes on Eurostar with a guitar sound not just to strum: some will perform in concert, or teach, or study at the conservatory ,.... something "serious" will do it for sure!). The woman

Kedar, spoke and seemed at times more concerned or sometimes reserved, but not at all bothered and the scene continued.

He was keeping the bank, explained and talked, now a little louder, stronger, safer, she followed him: she had been kidnapped.

It also added a third passenger, who was in front of the musician and the thing was developed, then, after a half an hour, slowly subsided atomosfera: the rocking cradle of the train thoughts and reflections and often the eyes are closed, after putting the sign in the book that you read, or you adjust the iPod volume to rock the thoughts and then moved from the sleep train. They, too, the woman and the musician, the pace slowed, but he still occasionally spoke, but softly, always in the background, like a background music ..

I have not heard much that was not my business, but I saw a scene unfold, different yet equal to many others, and when the train slowed ahead of the first station when I saw him get up and prepare his things and look for the guitar, I saw change the environment on the stage.

He got up, she smiled, but shy, very reserved and are greeted with quiet sympathy, no other confidence, evidently he had just spoken, was not one of the "usual" men that we always try ...

When was the space between the seats, he gave the final greeting, shook hands, she handed it to him and there was contact, then ... sudden and unexpected, he brought her hand to her mouth, slightly bowed and kissed it!

fast, effective and simple!

I stood open-mouthed, so to speak ...

Then he drew back, he gave her a last goodbye and turned to start at the door with a guitar on his back. She

quiet, watched her, and withdrew his hand as if everything was normal, we went back to reading the book in her lap.

From the whole scene just maybe I was impressed, or, who knows ... maybe not. I smiled to myself. At a time when almost one claims to be ignorant and insulting one another or many others, or to be arrogant because they feel strong and confident, at a time when there is full of arrogance even when discussing trivial, a man, Young 's modern era, with a simple gesture, from another time, overturned, in a fraction of a second atmosphere, throwing the empty the train, but then who knows if a true vacuum, a gesture, a way to do, to be (do not know whether sincere or not, it does not matter!), surely a gesture of respect, a small, trivial and simple, but different.

Today I still see that image in front and I am grateful to that musician that I never see again, that scene in that split second. A gift, like a simple daisy caught in a meadow, always has a value and we carry with us forever.

Life makes a lot of gifts ...

Giant Woman With High Heels

Walter Bonatti - "Lost World" -

I must have been more or less between 8 and 10 years when a small still with the boy shorts, in the magazine rack, wooden living room of my house, I found a magazine in black and white and color that had perhaps (forse!) just the cover, whose title was "TIME".

I remember the pages with the corners a bit 'curled, the "ears" he called my dad, and I remember very vaguely, I saw a name written on a service within that review: W. Bonatti.

I was a kid, I knew nothing of mountains, except what little I saw in the summer when, with my parents, I walked the paths of the Dolomites, gray and sharp-edged ridges, but that neither felt the beautiful sunset pink that would cause so many emotions years later, in my heart.

When about twenty years later walked down stairs, some climbs that I was to approach the name of Bonatti had become a myth, but the past, now in the history of mountaineering, and almost unattainable, which I had read anything, even young ignorant, tense as I was climbing myself, without investigating the reason of many ways that covers ...

Then, a year ago, right in the twenty-first century, now that man in mature age, a gionro I was in line to wait my turn to pay a bank account in a post office, as well as those where that the operations of mail today, you also do the shopping ... (Modern conquest progress!) and gaze fell on a white volume of which struck me the title, but the author: W. Bonatti. It was offered at the discounted price, but what matters is that it was written by Bonatti that now that forty years ago, wrote in the magazine with the "ears" at the corners of your pages. And then a flash in the living room of my parents, the chair and the magazine and those photos ... and I leafed through the book, inside of me decided that I would have bought it, whatever the cost.

As with the books that I feel are worth, I have not read in one go, but I sipped, as I always like a nice bottle of port. And I have not regretted it.

does not tell the climbing, this time, but that Bonatti's career has taken a turn put the boots to the nail, when, in 1964, to quote his own words: "meanness and misunderstandings more profuse in the world of mountains, had come to make me finally get out of that environment, "beginning the following year left for the profession of Epoch. (In 1965 I was 9 years and so my memories were not totally wrong ...)

In this book the mountaineer-turned-explorer, collects some of his writings produced between 1964 note, and 1976, in which travel stories always undertaken with the spirit of sports with intent not discover, or to taste heroic enterprise, but to go to understand, descending in places and among the people of those places that looked, what was in the same places, living thing and held the living areas was gradually crossing, most often on foot and alone , almost always without risk of weapons while guess some tiger or some bear.

We go from cold Siberia to Africa desert, from Antarctica to Easter Island, crossing deserts and endless places, leaving the reader to sognre, as when, guys, you read books of adventure, except that here talk about real adventures and experienced.

What emerges, in my opinion, is a man that respects the place where everything goes to pass, that seeks to understand rather than attack it and tame it, what is striking is the feeling of admiration and wonder at natural phenomena, to even imagine the things most of us, but above all by the genuine curiosity to learn, as Man, Serber then things in her heart and whose pictures or words, now will bring, if not fleeting glimpses that will affect whether or not the imagination e.. the heart of the reader, with the heart.

lucky man and I guess you could say is the truth, although willing to trade security and certainty of a living "normal" with the uncertainty of a work that could also bring him to end his days, a sudden .

When closing the book (in 2009), Walter Bonatti has almost 80 years and what strikes me is the kind of thoughts and sincere respect and intrinsic and not merely formal, that I feel in him, to the environment in we live in, to the whole earth, the discovery of how the man himself is the cause of his illness, which is slowly eroding the land on which they live and from which it draws life. Do not complain, not the usual howls of a dog beaten and old that many elderly people do, but merely a light exposing facts, reality, before the eyes of someone who wants to see, who reads and wants to understand.

closing its pages, a soft smile remains in my heart the memory of a sentence that is given to him during the journey to find the headwaters of the Amazon, when an Indian, whose simple life of poverty and took place between those mountains of the Cordillera Chila where Bonatti with a friend, was to explore, accommodates tired and hungry, in his poor hut and offers them a simple soup that has food for himself and his family, sharing with them, which occurred there all'iimprovviso: "I greet you and ask you to serve as a brother, sure to have your help in need! "

This spirit, simple, sincere, straightforward and without frills, I still really like a treasure in a corner of the heart, as taught by an Indian unknown to me as a man of twenty-first century, immersed in globalization.

of this seemingly trivial and silly "teaching" to me for anything valuable and trivial, I say thanks to this man from another era!

Enlarged Spleen Killed My Boxer

Published Notice of Race

The Notice of Race and Entry form are now posted on the race's left in the column under "Latest News", but also on the official website of Classemini Italy download page, reachable through this link.
Recall that the entries will open Tuesday 15 February, and will close on Tuesday, March 15, 2011.

THE APPLICATION FORM MUST BE SENT TO SEG. FAX NUMBER:

+39 0564 867 482

Please then all owners to see also the annex to the Registration Form and remember to have all the information and documents requested.

Compliance Aspirations

I was the veterinary, waitin 'to get my cat, I waited patiently, politely asked the doctor I had a little' time and glad I was there, observing others, "the masters of aninali ",... was not theater, it was not the TV show, but everyday life in a normal town in Lazio, in a normal evening in January.

Standing waiting a girl dressed elegantly, wearing makeup and nice, about 25/28 years, with a dog on a leash. He was standing there in front of the doctor's desk, I saw the side, I saw the beautiful features, but something in her eyes was not clear.
In the background of Dr. sentence: "Now we take x-rays .. which unfortunately are not at all beautiful," his voice Ferrara transplanted in Lazio, efficient and good, but behind the mask of unflappable professional, the doctor will spoatava here and there, I saw her move.

A woman's voice asked the girl: "What did?" referred to a black dog, small, like a fox, apparently crossing bastard in a noble and any race. This I had not seen before, was the second girl, the youngest, moved slowly and with difficulty from behind his desk, where he was waiting for his response.
Tears .. the girl's face suddenly filled with tears and turned into a form where the pain broke, apparently slowed by the "good manners": "A cancer .." he mumbled, drowning in tears and sniffling.

Dr. efficient approached her and gave a pat on the hair, the trader had been shocked, showed that behind his white coat is a woman, a human being who loves animals and who understands who does the same, the port has a handkerchief, beautiful and simple gesture that shows complicity and human love, a time to be like the girl, who suffers.

Girl with painted eyes, but now red-rimmed paid, endured the die ATM receipt, trying to drive back the tears, but it was obvious he was doing something that is not wanted, and would have wanted to cry her pain, that of a friend. A real friend!


of this scene there are millions, and there are to many humans, I've seen myself as the brother of my ex-wife been declared "condemned" ...
but always strikes me as a human you leave to go to an animal, that being that has racks that we show at each step, you querl'essere gives himself how nature makes him do like my cat, pardon "cat" that rises only when the legs go, but showing affection and showing more and more true than many of my so-called "friends " .. .

He touched the girl and I loved him.
None of that.
Maybe now that I write the dog is dead or she is watching crying, but still a human being is stripped of self and of various scenes of drama in which she lives, when the front has to be simple, but real and sincere look at this is always a lesson, at least for me.

Is Yogurt Made Out Of Worms

few days open enrollments

the historic city 'and its characteristic of Talamone Harbour, again will host the first race of the 2010 Mini Circuit. Under the auspices of the Sailing Club Talamone who takes care of the organizational synergy with Classemini Italy will wind 'on the classic path-Talamone Capraia-Giannutri-Talamone for a total of 160 nautical miles. Registration is
begin Feb. 15. The invitation and registration forms will be available on http://www.classemini.it/ both in the home that Download Site Class.
Owners may enter by completing the downloadable form and send it along with the notice to the Secretary of Talamone Sailing Club from February 15 and until 18.00 on March 15, 2011, together with the entry fee.

Registrations received after March 15, 2011, will be accepted at the discretion of the Organizing Committee.

How Do You Do Arceus Event Pokemon Soul Silver

pain and sincerity I say NO!

I say NO!

Now I say NO! In what comes across subtly imposed by an endless series of "moral or customs duties," to hide behind hypocrisy, selfishness, abuse of power, all that can be summarized in the phrase " to others what it takes to ME! "

I say NO!

Why behind the duty to help a friend while I'm already bleeding with pain, but "I put aside my own" for him, there is selfishness, the ITS. I do not say you do, indeed, I do and do it very willingly, but I want to be able to decide and I do not feel the weight of moral blackmail: "if you do you're bad, you're heartless, selfish YOU!"

No! I want to be me to decide to kill myself for you, for him, for them, and do it regardless of expense, spending the smallest residual forces in me, but I do it because at that moment I feel the desire to give you all of me, even your life! I feel I, I decide, but not for duty, not because it needs to be done, "but because" I want to do it! "

Why behind the duty to put aside my own need for basks in the lament of those who daily, and then, my words of comfort is just paper, there is a higher duty, is not it: my own, to preserve the my life.

Some people live in each wall crying, wanting autocompiangersi who lives and needs of actors in his own stage of his theater staff, and then I serve with my costumes, its stage, to play him, or she may be, but to me, it affects only an appearance, does not affect the heart, the feelings, the pain you carry inside and that none of these recitautori (i singers sing, they "Just read "...) interested in knowing how I feel inside.

affects only that it is there, to be part of those scenes: their.

Because behind that want to force to advise on "how to do " about "how one should live " on " as we must believe in God " on " as they should educate their children , "and so on and so forth, behind all this advice never asked, never wanted, ever want, but very badly received, behind all this, there is only arrogance, so much. The arrogance of wanting you to teach you things you only learn from, wanting to make sure that you follow models, scripts that maybe they like more, to them, but without wondering if YOU, those scripts like them.

So I say NO, now NO, NO MORE '!

will be tough, I know that I have doubts, I fear, and even put them aside, the insecurities (who's does not? Those that can afford the luxury of always knowing how to do and not be afraid to be wrong?), I'll be alone, I will be a vacuum, because this will bother to say NO, this out of line and the grid, and the price will be paid first alone.

But better only by some comrades, who in the company without me and without the freedom to be myself as they are, to be like everyone likes, not to put anyone at ease, questioning the ways and models ..

I say NO!

And I say yes' to what I want and I decide!