A day of silence to honor one, unfortunately, a big pain .....
Friday, March 18, 2011
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Airsoft That Ships To Canada
Voices flee
The abandoned hut, wrapped in the silence of muffled voices and escaped in time, filled with memories, past, secrets. The creak of the door it desecrates the silence. Between peeling walls lime-whitening now that the dirty-falls, accompanied by dusty clutter, resonate silent moments passed, rice boy grin of a woman, a lover's sigh, the clumsy thump of a foot, the stumbling block in a sentence, a gray cloud of dust and breath sounds and noises, but most items, items that now escape the weather and the regret of the past, slipping into the air from oblivion muddied.
The broken door of the barbarian army worms closes behind him with a squeak, a light thud, and the darkness, broken by faint rays of light that penetrate the boards irregular speed of the ceiling, giving an air of haunted magic, the thrill of danger softened with curiosity.
Entries submerge the listener that invades the sanctity of the tarnished old room, the trap network in a whisper, a spider's web invisible, but fled the ear that tries to follow, fled, taking shelter, rumors fly, confidential , shy virgins to preserve the lost memories, escape. Then step inside, and the reality is irretrievably lost, there remains a solitary body surrounded by the dust of the past, between thoughts stacked like useless junk, that no witness statements claim.
A piano in the middle of the hut. Bechstein old, old and abandoned, as the place where it is hosted. The dust will cover the lid and keyboard, dust of years without help and without music, which is silent now gagged in ropes, a prisoner of nothing, blank.
feet of the instrument, numbed by the years, they are immersed in the middle of a low rectangular sheet of water, black water which reflects the ceiling and its lights. The seat is waiting to board, anchored by a leg damaged, dry and dusty in those eternal lonely days that haunt the hut and her memories. There salt. Your feet touch the dark water. Small ripples in touch. The seat part
vessel, She loosed the chain and leaves the board, as the voices behind him, lining the route his darting like sirens shrieking, howling, and implied angry to defend their intact granite silence.
He comes to the instrument, and a faint ray of light slides up to the keyboard. It swells up to become a cone of white sun that exudes the fine powder of abandonment, and how old the spotlight dimly lit.
The keyboard covered in glitters faintly grubby in an ivory tear escaped dirt. A note
forgotten echoes between the walls, bouncing off the bad acoustics of the place forgotten by God. You lose slowly. A moment of silence, the voices are silent, and then the sound still echoes from the belly the piano, and the beginning of a fugue in three voices of Bach. The development comes fast parts, a solid rock of notes is constructed by the intertwining of voices, firmly underpinned the keys to not escape the attack and not give the roar of memories, which surround a turbine instrument and musician, and as vessels spectral initiates the battle. The commander moves forward on the seat, without fear maintains its share of Bach singing dust mixed into the abyss, while the flight is silent and transfixed by the haunting cries of a whirlwind, but proceeds incorruptible, following its complex melody. The turbines do
spiral ripples through the instrument-and disturbed-tremble at his feet, while the ghost voices bombard the piercing shrieks, but now the drain is ending intact, the voices are not imitating the other fled, the sound was lost in silence the piano is still a gap in inscrutable silence, are the ghosts to escape while the ' grand final agreement is close, the triumph of the three entries Bach,
/ the door open, clear stream of light that invades a sliver of room, "Anna?" / look through the dusty darkness /
slips in the last line ' agreement. The entries are resting, and victorious.
And the piano, an elegant pirouette in the sky high, rises from the glass of water, escapes and disappears into the air accompanied by memories of the past. Remains empty, and a person at the door ajar. From the ceiling broken escape the voices and memories.
Entries flee. 
The abandoned hut, wrapped in the silence of muffled voices and escaped in time, filled with memories, past, secrets. The creak of the door it desecrates the silence. Between peeling walls lime-whitening now that the dirty-falls, accompanied by dusty clutter, resonate silent moments passed, rice boy grin of a woman, a lover's sigh, the clumsy thump of a foot, the stumbling block in a sentence, a gray cloud of dust and breath sounds and noises, but most items, items that now escape the weather and the regret of the past, slipping into the air from oblivion muddied.
The broken door of the barbarian army worms closes behind him with a squeak, a light thud, and the darkness, broken by faint rays of light that penetrate the boards irregular speed of the ceiling, giving an air of haunted magic, the thrill of danger softened with curiosity.
Entries submerge the listener that invades the sanctity of the tarnished old room, the trap network in a whisper, a spider's web invisible, but fled the ear that tries to follow, fled, taking shelter, rumors fly, confidential , shy virgins to preserve the lost memories, escape. Then step inside, and the reality is irretrievably lost, there remains a solitary body surrounded by the dust of the past, between thoughts stacked like useless junk, that no witness statements claim.
A piano in the middle of the hut. Bechstein old, old and abandoned, as the place where it is hosted. The dust will cover the lid and keyboard, dust of years without help and without music, which is silent now gagged in ropes, a prisoner of nothing, blank.
feet of the instrument, numbed by the years, they are immersed in the middle of a low rectangular sheet of water, black water which reflects the ceiling and its lights. The seat is waiting to board, anchored by a leg damaged, dry and dusty in those eternal lonely days that haunt the hut and her memories. There salt. Your feet touch the dark water. Small ripples in touch. The seat part
vessel, She loosed the chain and leaves the board, as the voices behind him, lining the route his darting like sirens shrieking, howling, and implied angry to defend their intact granite silence.
He comes to the instrument, and a faint ray of light slides up to the keyboard. It swells up to become a cone of white sun that exudes the fine powder of abandonment, and how old the spotlight dimly lit.
The keyboard covered in glitters faintly grubby in an ivory tear escaped dirt. A note
forgotten echoes between the walls, bouncing off the bad acoustics of the place forgotten by God. You lose slowly. A moment of silence, the voices are silent, and then the sound still echoes from the belly the piano, and the beginning of a fugue in three voices of Bach. The development comes fast parts, a solid rock of notes is constructed by the intertwining of voices, firmly underpinned the keys to not escape the attack and not give the roar of memories, which surround a turbine instrument and musician, and as vessels spectral initiates the battle. The commander moves forward on the seat, without fear maintains its share of Bach singing dust mixed into the abyss, while the flight is silent and transfixed by the haunting cries of a whirlwind, but proceeds incorruptible, following its complex melody. The turbines do
spiral ripples through the instrument-and disturbed-tremble at his feet, while the ghost voices bombard the piercing shrieks, but now the drain is ending intact, the voices are not imitating the other fled, the sound was lost in silence the piano is still a gap in inscrutable silence, are the ghosts to escape while the ' grand final agreement is close, the triumph of the three entries Bach,
/ the door open, clear stream of light that invades a sliver of room, "Anna?" / look through the dusty darkness /
slips in the last line ' agreement. The entries are resting, and victorious.
And the piano, an elegant pirouette in the sky high, rises from the glass of water, escapes and disappears into the air accompanied by memories of the past. Remains empty, and a person at the door ajar. From the ceiling broken escape the voices and memories.
Entries flee.
Monday, March 14, 2011
America's Next Top Model Wax
However, a beautiful Sunday
Hello all and I do not know how it was time the rest of Italy, but here in Elba was a Sunday in strong wind and water, water, water ......
Not that it has upset me, because, mix together, a day that forces you into the house, a very sweet husband, a pancake breakfast and an afternoon of film and chips, for me to lust ..... .
So, let me share with you the recipe for pancakes that my husband often I prepare for breakfast, Sunday winter ..... is not a love?
Encourage your husband or your partner to prepare for a challenge!!
You can also prepare them with your hands, but when they do not know why he says, are moooooolto better, you will love ?????? mah, who knows ......
pancakes for 10/12:
200 gr flour 00
2 teaspoons of yeast
half teaspoon of salt 1
tablespoon sugar 2 eggs
250 ml of milk
3 teaspoons vegetable oil peanut
In the first bowl combine the flour, baking powder, salt and sugar.
In a second bowl whisk the egg yolks then add the milk and oil.
In a third bowl, fit the egg whites.
At this point, add the flour before mixing the yolks with the milk and oil. Then the egg whites gently.
If you have time let them rest for 10 minutes, then heat a nonstick frying pan, and pour a ladle at a time of composto.Quando begin to swell and color on one side, turn them and cook the other.
As will be ready, place on a plate, one over the other, so that will be hot.
We eat them with maple syrup, as in America or Canada, and are very good, but sometimes we get the jam, or honey were at home, the Elbe, of course ....
This is the result, try them and see that it will be hard not to fall in love .....
Hello all and I do not know how it was time the rest of Italy, but here in Elba was a Sunday in strong wind and water, water, water ......
Not that it has upset me, because, mix together, a day that forces you into the house, a very sweet husband, a pancake breakfast and an afternoon of film and chips, for me to lust ..... .
So, let me share with you the recipe for pancakes that my husband often I prepare for breakfast, Sunday winter ..... is not a love?
Encourage your husband or your partner to prepare for a challenge!!
You can also prepare them with your hands, but when they do not know why he says, are moooooolto better, you will love ?????? mah, who knows ......
pancakes for 10/12:
200 gr flour 00
2 teaspoons of yeast
half teaspoon of salt 1
tablespoon sugar 2 eggs
250 ml of milk
3 teaspoons vegetable oil peanut
In the first bowl combine the flour, baking powder, salt and sugar.
In a second bowl whisk the egg yolks then add the milk and oil.
In a third bowl, fit the egg whites.
At this point, add the flour before mixing the yolks with the milk and oil. Then the egg whites gently.
If you have time let them rest for 10 minutes, then heat a nonstick frying pan, and pour a ladle at a time of composto.Quando begin to swell and color on one side, turn them and cook the other.
As will be ready, place on a plate, one over the other, so that will be hot.
We eat them with maple syrup, as in America or Canada, and are very good, but sometimes we get the jam, or honey were at home, the Elbe, of course ....
This is the result, try them and see that it will be hard not to fall in love .....
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Do Whitetails Drop Antlers
AAA, tutorials wanted ... Good
Dear friends, I need your help .....
As you know, our family has arrived in the little Margaret, and as Aunt fitted with a needle and thread, I offered to package the wedding favors for baptism, which I could not do for Daniel, the other my beautiful grandson, since at that time I had a shop that absorbed all my time!
So you ask: "What do you want from us ?".....
I kindly ask if all of your knowledge you give me some advice on where to find the tutorial to make the little animals of cloth or felt.
My idea would be to match a pet to a bag with confetti, but if any of you has a different idea as to suggest to him I'll be very grateful.
You can also refer you on sites that have already visited, and dealing with the topic, or advise me what to do.
Count I have a little more than a month's time, I continue to look for in books and on the web, waiting for your news.
Obviously this will not be free, if I can find to your advice, the project will be implemented, shall be reciprocated with something of my creation.
Let me also comment, link to this post, but if you do it well enough to send me tutorial by mail, you will find in my profile ......
Thank you, thank you, thank in advance. Katia
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Targus Replacement Parts Tripod
March 8
This is a quick post blogghine to wish all a happy International Women's Day .....
not usually celebrate this day, but now that I've known many women imaginative and industrious on the web, I would turn all my warmest good wishes, especially in this period when the woman seems now the subject of gossip , and that's news !!!!!
In these days I'll try to finish many wip, and I hope soon to post photos of my new niece yet ..... a big hug to all ..... good week Katia
Kate And Raven Rilet Vid
Forex Euro-dollar what will happen?
News: Bond Portfolio for drawers, 5% net return How can I see?? Write to: fabio.troglia @ gmail.com or contact me at 0110437179
Forex: euro / dollar
Good day to all, the market changes with the recent decision of monetary policy is in turmoil.
in detail and I think a possible future rise in U.S. interest rates, will determine the exchange rate Euro / dollar short to medium excellent opportunity.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)