Gay Cruising Incharlotte Nc

The frequency of happiness in the eyes of an angel An angel with wings

It was a Sunday afternoon in Milan, the ashen sky and cautious, was undecided on the right moment to throw up his anxiety about the world.
Still in Porta Venezia, had just spent two minutes and the phone rang .. - Puppy, I was so excited that we meet that I left a little 'before and seemed to fly, are already here-, I-
-also said that Gattaccia evil that, in the meantime, he laughed in his mustache.
That gray sky seemed, suddenly, only two of them smiling.
was a meeting of eyes, two auras immediately intertwined with each other. A small parcel
the Gattaccia, a large parcel
The Gattaccia the angel did not resist, the surprise was disarming.
A guide to the city of lovers, a cute little heart he wrote: "you'll be my Judas in this magic city. " A CD written by
studded secret.
A catalog from which to choose a weekend for 2.
A magical book that contained the fabulous love story written between the lines of an adventure novel ... The
Gattaccia, which usually had to keep things in hand, was speechless, my heart in my throat, the words were not cried his eyes out, but already love that angel.
The magic of the silence lasted several minutes, no embarrassment, the two seemed to touch, no doubt could disturb them.
It was as if at that moment, at that precise moment, both become aware that their dreams, the desire for love with a capital A, was overlooked, as if in a moment the matter of which dreams are made of materialized had their mutual desires to make them real.
only for them, just at that moment alone forever ...
Eye to eye is left to bring the sweet smell of the rain, gentle, stroking their faces but that they did not perceive the presence, it was as if everything had turned around in colorful bubbles that dance, drawing a path.
the angel's hand touched the white Gattaccia, a spark covered the two bodies, an explosion of synapses, telepathic eyes, twisted souls.
-My sweet puppy, I thought it would be our first meeting a blind date, where the eyes do not could see and the heart could feel better. Tender little boy, here we are -. The
Gattaccia, more and more excited and were drawn from a simple smile and dall'impercettibile fragrance of sincerity, held out his hand toward the angel and said: - I'm in your hands today, tomorrow I'll tell you what I think, but now I just need listen to your heart that speaks to me -
enter that path in that theater that tells the life of those living in the world so there .. In that world perfume
never heard Hear, hear languages \u200b\u200bhardly perceived in the city, felt their hearts beat in unison for the first time, felt the need to weave their own hands, felt the desire to smell each other's souls.
From that blind world you can only learn, you learn to listen to the other senses, to hear a beating heart, listening to a hand that touches us, a shortness of breath, two lips moist and warm heart.
Phillips was driving in this fantastic journey, Philippa, the sympathetic companion, Charon, the blind, in that world that dominated them all.
- Hello Philip, I am a black Gattaccia, I talk a lot and are a bit 'roly-poly, your hands are dry as sandpaper, you should use a little' cream ... -
The nice presentation was interrupted by a boat arrived to take fellow travelers, fellow blind in a blind world. It's easy to laugh at the lack
of temporary world as we know, the Gattaccia much consideration, the only thing that could feel good was that, even if he lost his sight, standing near him was a strong hand and a pure heart, c ' was his angel.
In the dark, without seeing, looked at him straight in the eyes, the eyes of the soul can see forever, felt his breath entrargli inside, the soft lips rested sull'angelo excited.
A kiss and then another thousand, their hearts had the sound of drums crazy, their fingers, inseparably joined, sanctioned a meeting, a bond archaic.
is easy to be happy, he thought that Gattaccia, just to meet an angel, just be like but it was just really, without pretense, without walls or superstructures.
enough to see without looking at your angel and in her eyes you see a me or you but only one of us.
Then let go and whisper softly in his ear
- in your eyes I saw our future, I love you! -

Where To Hang A Owl House?

Ik hou van Holland!

Reflections


Almost a month after the last post I find myself still here, sitting at a small desk in my room, watching the rain fall, to post in this blog as having arguments everything and nothing at the same time.
more I will not try to make sense of this climate, but I will continue to complain, but did not see it as a limit, as a good Dutch.
The trees here have been put in front of large green leaves ... I forgot what they looked like.
And today, May 2, on a day of calm, I'm here to reflect on the past and what is passing, the wishes, on dreams, the importance of things, the future's past, the fears, certainties. I browse several thousand arguments, thinking, think and think.
I think as I was before leaving, it lasted that year of waiting. I think when I said goodbye to my city, my people. I think when I was in Rome. I think when I put the first foot in this house, and when, on entering this very room, I imagined the view from the window in those months that seemed unattainable as part of a future that would never have happened seriously, and but now that not only arrived, but it is already gone. I think of how many times I cried silently, thinking they had done The biggest mistake of my short life coming here, without telling anyone, because I did not believe, nor I still believe that someone would have understood the importance of those tears. I think back to what I was surrounded by strangers and how bad was that feeling. I think back to what I go wrong leaving me for a moment and affect almost all the early months of this year. And now?
Now we are in May. May. Come to think of me shrinks the stomach and on my face stand out at the same time a smile and lucciconi. Now everything is as I dreamed, as I wanted. And right now it's all about to end. And I will miss him. But that's what I learned, I learned to take joy from a rainbow, a smile from a piece of cake. I learned to ride in the rain, I learned not to see that there are no boundaries, I learned to grow by giving importance to what he deserves, and to respect the agreements necessary to see everything, or at least all that I can, so on . I learned that not everyone uses the napkins at the table, that if you live with for a while 'with the differences, even the most absurd and improbable, after a while' become yours and you do not even notice it. I learned to keep the rain let it happen, of course, still not quite in the calm, but my roots always influence, eh.
I learned that acting in certain ways there is nothing to gain, but that sometimes is still to be done. I should not snub for bias, although this is a bit 'difficult.

I learned to appreciate a country that I hated with my whole being, because I could not understand it. I regret to have chosen a billion times. But now a part of me is and will remain red-white-blue. Without realizing I left he took me, without realizing it came a time when the morning instead of bread and Nutella I started to eat bread and hageslag , a time when instead of going out to walk without hesitation I went out cycling , a time when alone at home even while I cooked dinner at six o'clock, a time when I started to greet and chat with neighbors smiling and playing with children. And now is the time when the Dutch prefer robin. An Italian in the Netherlands has a lot more to learn in the life of a Dutchman in Italy.

There's just to open up and let write such a book, and the differences become treasure, you just have to close your eyes and focus on well, and then the similarities become all you can see, the oddities that do not know just a touch of mystery to explain more. It 's a question of being able to see through the eyes right, to be able to comply.

Today, eight months and eleven days later, thirty-six weeks and two days later, two hundred fifty-four days later, I did not know and I can not wait to know not to know anything less.

Forgive me if I do not hear much, if not write much anymore. I just want to take advantage of these wonderful moments of joy that I built around me and I left to build around me from others.

soon, or maybe not.
Roberta



Bloemencorso, trip to Antwerp, walks through the tulip fields

How Long Can Hematoma Last?

The INNOMINATO


PRESENTATION AND DESCRIPTION OF PHYSICS
Later the advances of Don Rodrigo, the presentation of the Unnamed is the cap. XIX: "... a terrible man. We can no longer say he's neither the name nor the name or title, and even a guess on any of this. [...] A man who, being of 'first among the big city, he established his residence in a country located on the border, and there, making sure to force crimes, held at all the reviews, the courts, the judges , sovereignty, led a life quite independent of forusciti fence, foruscito time too, then returned as if nothing had happened [...]. Do what was prohibited by law, or prevented by a any force, be judge, master in the affairs of others, certainly interesting that the taste of command, to be feared by all, he had his hand from those who were used to it by others, and these were at any time the principal passion of this man .... "
psychological portrait
The Nameless is one of the most psychologically complex and interesting figures of the novel. Figure historically existed, but receives from Manzoni artistic reworking of an autonomous life and an inner coherent and complete. The drama of the Unnamed it runs throughout the interior of his spirit, and was followed in its beginning and its development, with a keen eye and inquisitive, which moves through the maze of the soul. The character of the representation made by the author, do not turn from the beginning, as the evil despicable and repugnant, that very large collection that fear causes the crowd to make way respectfully as he passed, inspires awe rather than disgust. It preserves, in its position of "rebel", something regal and majestic, like someone who has created, even on conditions of violence, its own law, and reached through the immunity produced by the force, its own freedom. The man who is free from restrictions, courageously defends an extreme case even unjust, always arouses a feeling that if you can not call admiration, he very similar. The Nameless is great even worse, than a lot of the little tyrants of the evil race of Don Rodrigo. Only in a similar spirit, untied to any compromise, unable to middle ground, an internal crisis can lead to a radical transformation: he is fully an individual. When he makes his entrance in the novel, this crisis has already begun, and is still unconscious in the form that have long felt for her life, full of innumerable iniquities committed only: anxiety, disgust, discomfort, which will gradually popular consciousness during the night. The crisis touches the depths of despair, but the thought of the afterlife, the thought of God ("And ... if there is this other life ...! "), and more to Lucia's words (" God forgives so much for a work of mercy! "), determine its resolution. That dell'Innominato is therefore not only a crisis of mere sentiment, but also a crisis of thought, a logical crisis. Some critics, citing an article in the Council of Trent, which noted that the commencement of the ordinary man is justified by the fear of hell, "say that the 'Unnamed had converted out of fear of punishment, but other more probably argue that he converted out of fear of a trial before the Lord, not for fear of sentence which follows this opinion. It is always the idea of \u200b\u200bGod, the eternal Judge ("I am, however), which troubles his mind.