Can You Get=shingles On Your Breast?

of a summer night ...



waving like a hanged man in the hot wind this summer.
eyes closed and breath hub agony.
life implodes in me and I do not know what to do now.
Under the moon are still paler.
I stopped worrying tonight.
rags on me that I'm not ashamed.
death already I'm not afraid anymore.
And time is passing slower.
drops of sweat on my forehead.
Tears in the sticky heat.
fool ... what is the point of crying?
My rope is a jewel quite ridiculous.
Happiness is a grotesque grimace on my face.
me, I am helpless as a puppet.
I puppeteer merciless with myself.
This time I pulled the wire too.

Veg Upsets My Stomach

Rans ... and me!

tonight are a bit 'sad and also very tired and nervous for this exam session that seems to never end and that is so difficult to reconcile with the full-time job. To distract a bit '- and then that hot weather! - I started to wander a bit' for the network. I found something that made me smile a lot, the video of the abbreviation of "Rans witch," the cartoon that I liked most as a child and whose character seems too much to me ... So I dedicate to you and me!

RANS *** WITCH ***

nice and cute, it's a doll, [oh, Rans-king! ]

around you would not think that has a vampire father, [oh, Rans-king! ]

the eye is always sharp as a mother wolf, [oh, Rans-king! ]

even if she is honest, sometimes scary because ...

Rans is a very beautiful and lovely witch you know,

but if he gets angry then I am trouble,

he can use all spells,

to make a thousand and one follies

Rans is a witch always sweet and caring you know,

but if rages are then trouble

although now she is in love,

she does not forget the goal, because ...

Rans is a witch!

Sometimes it is very curious,

but never presumptuous, [oh, Rans-king! ]

if by chance you are wrong then I apologize, [oh, Rans-king! ]

knows how to be gallant, always funny, [oh, Rans-king! ]

but if you are insulting, like a large firecracker burst ...

courageous Rans is a witch, does not yield anything,

she knows she is a sorceress, you know,

knows how to use all the magic,

to make a thousand and one follies

Rans is a witch, very beautiful and delicious, you know,

but with the broom she flies ever

although now she is in love,

she betrays her life, because ...

Rans is a witch!

VIDEO -------> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8-gQANzZb2k&NR = 1

Does A Brain Tumor Develop From Neuroglia

Letter to a friend ...

"Hello,

if only I knew you are there somewhere, now I would not need to write. I would I'll probably sit at listen to your life and read it in your eyes. And you, I'm sure, would do the same. I like to imagine a walk with you, make sure you find your hand ready to grab the first misstep. Ready to get up every fall. I think of you, but not like the things I see around me every day. More like a dream. Made of clouds and dew. And a bit of light that never hurts. I think of you, and I wonder how you are.

For now, time passes without you. But I am sure that someday you might meet on the street in the rain, knowing that you are. You acknowledge. Among thousands of faces will be as indifferent to me. Lost and alone. Ready to believe again.

What do you do when it's cold? And when it's dark outside and dark inside?

I know, your answers will come. It will be mine. When the time each application will have no effect. I'll find it all inside your eye. Inside a silence.

But how are you? What do you have? What eyes? I know your heart even the slightest thought. But I do not see you. Friend ... friend?

I'll look for the helmet, the world and stop time. I find when I hold you in tears. And every tear will be the color of those things, incredible, never imagined, wonderful.

For now I write four words in the wind. I'll wait here. Dear sister. Dear brother. "

To the friends I've lost ... for those who have never had ... for those who will be there one day.

Japanese Pokemon Games Online

And if the sun shone on my city ...

Beautiful and damned like a whore after a night of revelry. Smudged mascara and visible signs of fatigue and time. Sweet Lolita aging of an indecent innocence.

Naples this morning is bright, immaculately decadent ...

greedy, spewing waves of traffic and people along the road that leads from the central station to the shopping streets. Next to the square of the taxi, including the homeless and romantic toxic abstinence, Mac Donald gives off its odor of rotten democracy, while someone tries to sell me the illusion of a deal.

I get lost in the crowd crossing the station Coach, in the confused din of voices and machines always too high, the colors always too showy. Waste scattered here and there as careless strokes of a painter, bins burned and gutted, pale corpses of civilizations with the entrails of the wind.

It's warm and among the smell, smog and buildings leaning against each other the air does not pass. Garibaldi it is indifferent on its stone pedestal, pretending to look elsewhere.

By trying to avoid crazy drivers and pedestrians rushed. It 's still early and the Rettifilo stretches before me like a baby ugly and dirty, but smiling.

Way floor shops and street vendors, untangling between human and artificial obstacles. A little further on, where the cement gives way to heaven, you can see the color of the sea and the scent of another Naples oldest and most true. Unknown and buried. But no one seems to care.

I follow the mirage of blue Via Marina, leaving behind the Anjou Female. Here, beside the water, there is still some hope.

slide along the body of the most beautiful concubines, like the hand of a greedy lover in search of the last shred of purity to be preserved in spite of everything. But my search is futile because those breasts, that irrimediailmente belly were violated. In the summer heat from which I can not find shelter sin and corruption spread like gangrene.

There is, in these streets, decaying, grotesque atmosphere of celebration. Forced smiles in the tragedy, as jarring notes of a mandolin destroyed. Foreign hands that draw illusory rebirths over the disgust against the backdrop of peeling walls. Idiot on the faces of people ready to believe in magic tricks of yet another charlatan.

I look at the sea, looking for a breath of wind to get me my oxygen begins to fail. But the water closes in on itself like a prison. There is no escape, in this gray hood. Despair and stifled rage, screaming curses at me in silence anything. There is no love, no light.

And if the sun shone on my city? Probably not even me noticing. Not anymore.

Blueprints For Tv Stand

Desperately ...

"Hold me ... that our bodies entwined not leave even a passing breeze. Graffiami soul. that pain is sweeter if you have your taste and your eyes. I'm not afraid. The sky looks at my shivering greedy. And around the world is just another joke an envious fate.

two of us in the midst of everything else. Sand, sea, and night. So many nights to sell, without stars or sounds. Black and clear as my soul. Black. Cruel. And pure. The night and my soul. And you have that, holding them tight in one hand as they rattle. Play it, play them again. Breaks the silence and kiss me.

Get a star. A coincidence, I do not care. As long as they burn and be beautiful. As beautiful as when your looking through me. It redraws the reflection of my face. Fire and light. Take it and let it cling to my heart. I marks meat and deeper, where you can not enter. And then let it go.

Wind. The wind blows out here, like in winter. He caresses the skin. Your hands of wind on your skin in winter. O in summer is the same. And the skin. That vibrates and feels. It smells of everything. And nothing.

But breathe harder. And breath me as if I were all in the air. Not a dream. But solid as a land that lives. As dry land. But then when it's raining ... Rain and tears. And the rest. Everything else. "

YOUR . DESPERATELY.

Difference Between Gold Desert

Starry Night ...

nestles gently on the crescent moon, surrounded by a sky dotted with stars onyx crystal. The universe as a whole and wrapped a blanket. A hug that he had dreamed for so long. The earth beneath her continued indifference his perpetual motion. A small crazy blue and green dot in the vast emptiness around him.
He thought of the infinite loneliness of that planet. The random combination of events which led to the birth there, in the middle of galaxies. And that, sooner or later, would disappear, leaving in its place the same blanks. And no one would have felt the need to shed a tear.
The life of this world was similar to his. Generated both by an unexpected accident, were brothers, sons of the same improbability.
A meteor passed leaving behind a trail of dusty and dull sound that is lost in the silence of floating in space. A distant star imploded causing a crack of light on the translucent surface of this solid sky. Nothing, done nothing, was crossed by vibrations exist.
Suspended on his swing silver, the space seemed a blackboard. Design pictures figures made of soft rays, like rays of evanescent light, powerful as solar flares. In his dreams of a solitary artist repainted the universe with its palette of light and energy.
was violently stabbed by the beauty of that vision so real and was lost in the midst of unknown orbits. Descents, gliding along the eddies of blacks holes through time and space without fear. He let himself be lulled by the current uncertain and tamed the fury of storms astral. He jumped as playing bell, from a meteorite to another, and danced on the bright tail of a comet. He looked shaky in the pupil of a pulsar to discover the secret hidden in the depths of those abysses of light and dark. Then he returned, riding a gust of wind, cosmic, to cling to its moon. A shiver went through the
giving away a tear. He closed his eyes listening to mute melodies that came from everywhere. Eternity in an instant. When he awoke in his bed back there, tired and banal as any day. In that dark room, too small to contain his soul.

Can I Fly With 10 Oz Contact Solution

A little 'me ...

I do not like talking about myself ... maybe for the same reason that drives me to run in front of a camera and to blush in front of people who do not know. Nevertheless, I think it's fair to tell something of my life to introduce me to all those who have had the patience to read my blog. My name is Silvia and I am 23 years old. They are wandering soul, a rootless. Raised in Piacenza, 12 years I found myself having to start all over chief in the province of Naples. It was not easy, but never canceled this event that has changed my life. I attend the graduate program in Business Communication at La Sapienza University of Rome (God willing I will graduate next summer) and work for about a year or so in the bank in Caserta (but this is not really my dream job).

Ok so far I have said to me that others see.

But I ... I love writing and I believe in fairies. I am able to remain lying on the bed in the dark hours of my room to fantasize about it all. To imagine any other possible lives. All the alternatives ... like a perennial "Sliding doors ".'m restless, unable to stop even a single moment. I'm anxious. I love reading. devour books, one after another, and hide every time a new universe. I like science fiction, one steeped in social analysis, as classic Brave New World and 1984, as the novels of Ballard and distressing to those unlikely Dougla Adams. And I'm in love with Dylan Dog and Spiderman.

hate the light because it burns my eyes, which are clear, and forces me to constantly live with half-closed eyelids. I love the shadow and night. And the silence. But I'm afraid of the dark.

I like my short-sightedness, a slight fancy that (without glasses) I to live in a nuanced and light.

I have a younger brother and a younger brother at a distance, the Philippines, which came into my life this year alone. And I have two wonderful cats that fill my empty.

To my friends I'm a clown, always with his head in the clouds and is always ready to smile. I like to look carefree and hide my melancholy.

'm in love with life, although in the past I hated to the point of hurting me. And I'm in love with a wonderful guy who had the courage to bear with me for 6 years.

I hate to stay for more than a few years in stesson place. I am impatient, I do not like the static and so I always like to put into play, change, take risks and go ... and sometimes even win!

I like to run down the street with his head in the clouds, as in the middle of a movie set that does not take herself too seriously. I like to travel by subway and imagine the stories of all people in the eye crossing. I love to walk among the people, especially in countries that do not know, and hear different languages \u200b\u200b... let me rock the crowd without knowing where I take my walk.

I love animals ... all. And the colors. And the wind, rain, lightning, snow. The storms at sea and starmene sitting on the beach to watch. I love riding, although he has done very few times. And sleep hugging my cats.

I like chocolate and strawberries and cream. Hugs and kisses, a lot more kissing. I like to have friends to trust me. And keep talking to them pulling late. I like listening to people. And I like to sing loudly in the car driving home from work.

I like to dance, I like a lot. And the ice cream, strawberry flavor and kinder. I drink only water and some natural strawberry cocktail, once in a while. I sleep with a doll named cloud. And I love writing letters. I dream one day to meet my pen pal Sacha, a child of the Togo of which I have more news. And to live in a place where plants and flowers grow out from the vessels and spread to the eye.

I like caves, all that is secret and mysterious. I love the atmosphere of fantasy, and I think the elves, the fairies, ghosts and aliens. I love going to the movies, alone or in company. And the theater, and The Phantom Of The Opera. I love reggae, and Hippie. Dream In the '60s and a broken-down Volkswagen van to turn the colorful world. And I like rock music because I scnvolge soul. And the dark makeup on my eyes, I looked for a bit 'dark.

I like people to believe me mad. And those who know me well love me for who I am. I would not be anyone else ... just a little 'more beautiful. But really, I do not care that much ...

Bible Black Streamo,h

Pensiero stupendo ...

I wanted to share with you the beauty of this wonderful gift ... An exceptional gift from the heart and hands of the most important person in my life. Thank you MY LOVE!

Rc Cars With A Weedeater Engine

Walk ...

slipped, it was already daylight, along the sunny streets that led to the country. He had left behind the cold gray cement, which not even the summer sun could warm up. He was walking deep in the first heady scent of some kind of fruit. And while his mind was filled with the colors of summer.

Along the dirt road did not meet anyone. The people, the formless mass spectra that throughout the long winter had lived in hastily city, it was all game. The world, that little world full of life, it was all at his disposal. Drops of joy and freedom they filled my heart, and time seemed to slow down.

fast The moments that had anguished over the past months, seemed now proceed to the slower pace of his beats. And his breath beat the time of his steps. Inspire. The first trees broke the monotony of the cornfields now yellowed. Small masterpieces propped green color that caressed her eyes.

He chose a more leafy senior, sat down and occupied the small profile of shadow had drawn on the lawn below. His gentle hands touched the grass, which bent for a moment, then return to their positions originrie. He caught a small daisy and he put in her hair. Reassured by the presence of so alive, her body felt cleansed. The lifeblood of the flower seemed to slowly absorb all the poisons accumulated in the past days in the city.

There was, where he arrived from his eyes, hints of human presence. The silence of those places so broad almost touched. So, sitting with her hair tousled by the breeze, he could hear the voices which until then had been ignored. Above her, hidden by the branches of the tree reassuring, birds chirping carefree. He tried to imagine the content of their speeches made flight and nests, and what she seemed to understand that language so shrill and Argentina. From a distance came to her, then, the dull hum of a few insects engaged in its daily exactmatch food. Not felt, strangely, no discomfort or fear. Only an immense respect for quell'instancabile work. A gust of wind stronger, and this time was to talk to the branches and leaves. Whispers and murmurs fresh and green that reached the ears like a beautiful melody for too long forgotten.

He lay stretched his body and pressing down on the warm soil. She closed her eyes and her skin fused with stems and roots. His hands became clods of earth and her heart quivered like the wings of a bird. A long, deep breath. It was there, right where he wanted to be. Always.