turning around I burn around Rare inertiae graceful Electricity 
The transience of many grown in the rooms and rented apartments. Then when the time of collection, say mature above the uselessness of doing. There is transformed into a giant eye that enjoys seeing things in the world and its lazy, stuck in the hot eye socket. I've always loved the inaction, the genuine falsehood of idleness.
Nell'onirico story follows Gabriel celebrates its inactivity, praises idleness that every day takes away some of the flavor of the factory and takes away the worker's uniform. I thank him for sending me his story, I wish you good reading.
"idleness, in dreams, the submerged truth sometimes comes to the surface." (Virginia Woolf).
I wandered into the belly of my burning apartment do with how perplexed and panicked.
When this became routine I gave idleness of that situation. was then that happened and my metamorphosis, abyss of my dreams, I could see myself sitting on my bed.
"It must be the worst of me," I thought, because I was not exactly a pretty sight: red eyes like fire, six legs instead of arms, a grin on his mouth like a restrained grin. pitying I looked and I turned my back.
tour in the belly of my burning apartment do with how perplexed and panicked.
Nothing seems to give me relief, but all of a sudden to relax and have a moan. The chase listening better and I find him there, where I had left him: sitting on my bed still in an ironic Gurd fixity. My looks empty to me and makes me feel helpless. I die for a while as if a force was pushing me down, but before being crushed by it ...
"Do not dream! YOU ARE CUTE!
desist and 'good today ... RELAX NOW!
desist and' good today ... RELAX NOW!
NOT LIMITED TO WATCH PART ... !
I start to sweat and are hypnotized by my blank stare, my mouth gritted does not pop sound and I can not rebel to this. I see a bottle of Ron , jot down a sip and lose consciousness.
When I woke up I found myself covered with moist soil and smelly.
Without a word my twin stranger takes to water, starting from the feet.
And my body now make sparks.
Gabriele
Love caustic (contempt of crisis) is again disconnected from the waves of memory, the frames worse than my previous experience in Bologna. I already knew the fallibility of courage, but I wanted to go further: luckily my life prospects have sunk the replay between chills and silence. During the journey and in his epilogue, I had the support of the music of Robert Wyatt, the buzz words of one who loves me and believes in me, then that of a short poem that insults the crisis, preferring a love that burns. BBB (Bologna Burn Burn) is my personal caption to this poem and I thank Franco for optimism donatomi. A hug, see you soon. Luca.
Beyond the gates of the temple
a fireplace and a secret
guarded by a priestess.
This is our empire
whose boundaries are the perimeters
of our hearts.
In the chaos of this era
synchronicity of our heartbeat
defend with blood and the sword of our love.
the winter comes and the core of a star
or that of a stone
energy will protect the passage of our days.
Franco
Speaking of my energy E 'come as a memory of you, the bearer of something that you do not know. Sews apologetic temptation in my head, rejects the explanation that son-in voltage. sure you can laugh at life, almost everything that it propina without asking whether it is allowed to do, but together we find a place to share the tremendous boredom happily. is the memory of you and drags me heart still in the storm. Subisco check this again before you leave. Rest duecentottantasei only to water your plants, I read Andrea Pazienza before bed in hopes of dreaming. Continue to console breaking up because of my ways of being, whose common denominator is the art of camouflage: I'm just making this up, I create what has not be implemented without any requirement for mediation and I can well because my model is what is possible. grandparents say that at the time of fasting is not to say peace, say yes it is war now my full stomach tells me that by being able to say yes or no depending on the joy and strife. And if all of the privacy that I have betrayed these words were not enough to make you understand how they are done, add one last detail: the rose reduces any waiver of choices: I live in good intentions, overflight on the social, I arrange with me what is enough for me and I just do not be dead.
