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and 'here on Sunday afternoon in North London. out the time and 'reconciled in hand and I fight with my immobility. I can not bend the forefinger of his left hand and foot 'band for good after the minor accident at home. I need air and I need to listen to the sounds of this Sunday, I need riconnetermi with the outside world, have been days of physical distress and I need to look away from my body and find a balance with my surroundings . and julian 'release and the house' alone, with me inside. Then I open the white door leading to garden, the narrow front of which always leaves julian bags full of things like if that door was there not to be opened. but it 's my door, he has another that leads into the garden, large and modern. this is old and white and narrow 'and my time with the calm that I have and I try, I remove her things and opened the door to peace in the garden. breath. breath and listening and it seems to me that all repurchases and color sense. There are the sounds of Sunday outside the white door. There are birds chirping and children playing football nearby. a dog that barks and a rooster who sings every now and then. I show the kids that play on Sundays in the past, when I lived in a condo and the boys gathered in the backyard to play or sometimes, in a pitch furthest I could see from the balcony of the house. Sunday is the time to stop especially in the afternoon when the long Sunday lunch was over and so the various cleaning preparations for dinner but were still far apart. I loved to sit on the balcony and watch the calm, listen to the movement never intrusive, never inappropriate. and then they came in the midst of the calm, my grandparents with their happiness with their embraces, with their lives that I admired as one admires the perfect shot. I was happy But not know. I was just happy, no questions asked.

at times like these moments when the sounds of the past come back, I wonder when is 'the past' has become the past? and why? where are the voices of that past, where are the laughs, where are those people who saw each day and I thought I would see for the rest of my life over and over. where 'the alley of the house and the gate of the palace. the mailbox, lift the green. the abandoned vineyards and the pitch of the pine forest. the noisy machine of my grandfather and my grandmother always full of bags. where the balcony facing the sea and into the Vesuvius. the lights of Sorrento and Capri. where 'Mrs. guild on the ground floor where everyone went for coffee. there was no time to be small, this was only filled with people who suddenly found I no longer around me. I have not heard more noises. like when someone turns off the radio so all of a sudden my present and 'become the past.

start shivering hours outside the door and white and 'almost evening. the voices and sounds of the past are more and more feeble, and I return to my mind, my injured foot and dinner to prepare. the pitch is empty and my grandparents share in the car. not 'the most sun.

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entries.

deep in red chair. coffee now cold. the sound of the trumpet from the CD that brought me sara. the light of two lamps. out of the darkness deepens and the small voice inside and afraid of my grandmother sits across and weighs. I feel like a little girl who holds the tears in her throat. breathe deeply and meanwhile and the so-called 'over and you only hear the water moving in the radiator behind the chair. and now I 'came to mind the bath, I could go on and get me a hot bath, put the lavender as I like and wait for them. wait for it to melt the lump in my throat, waiting for the strange melancholy balance is broken and something happens. I could cry or eat. I slam things on the floor if I could get angry. I may or folding laundry. but I do not want to do anything. just breathe deeply and take down the tears and that they are stronger than my breath and come up to my eyes then I close my eyes and I fall asleep. I want you to rest and I would stop saying that all the useless things, unnecessary words. should teach people silent.

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weather nudges open the door

vi: Tore weather there?
sector: it is cold, there's' snow, rain, everything. and here? (And them? Ed)
you: here? in London?
sector:
is there: it rains here
sector: it rains only? Cold is not it?

treasure here is raining and cold, inside out everywhere. But you know, some mornings you wake up and open the tent and the sky 'blue and there' the sun and everything looks beautiful so beautiful you'd want to tell everyone and go everywhere. remember that when it 's the sun at any time of year you say, we go to sea? and even if 'in December or February or September, if there is' the only right you want to go to sea. and 'so here my love. when it 's the sun I would go to the sea. if you were here when it 's the sun you look at us and I would say: go to the beach? and I'll say. yeah, come on! go to the beach. and you begin to laugh and get excited as if the sea was the greatest thing in the world. and because 'the most beautiful thing in the world if it makes you smile. sure, Mom, Dad and rosaria would tell us, but you say? are you stupid?? but to us that we care. we understand, and I understand that through your enthusiasm, if there's something you want to wish you and you always get excited as if it were really possible to have it. even if that thing and 'the sea in December. between a bit and 'carnival and at home think you're too big to disguise. as if it may be too great for things. Who decides when you are 'too big? Who decides that it 's too? too big, too small? absurd, my love, and 'absurd. but do not worry as long as I have breath I scream for you against the world of "too much" against the world of "you're stupid." I miss your world, I miss your thousand and five hundred questions. I miss your being a pimp, that when I get home I say, "I drink only water stronghold," because you know that I think the soda hurt and you should not drink it. But the drink, again, and stop only when I'm there. night my love, tonight and if I was you and I mangle the Tuck kidding you covered all the deadwood to hear you laugh.

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I learned to walk in the rain, a little me among the people, to breathe deeply when I bump without looking. I learned to smile with blue sky and to patients with the gray sky. to queue when there would be no need and respond well even though I'm not listening to me.

'm learning to accept the absence of those who were there and who will be there, and so the absence of those who might be there but decided to take a wrong turn. and I'm learning how to tell if it's worth it.

teach my heart to not ask for a second time but the first to rejoice. teach my hands to retain the affection and my feet to stop and rest.

and appearance.

appearance in spring and flowers in my garden. aspect of the summer rain and the smell of the earth. the no-look and wonder why. expect that time slows down and does not make me more afraid. looks creepy. the sudden joy. aspect of the worst times and the best ones. look not understand anything or be taken by the hand.

I learned slowly. I learned that you only hear in silence and I have learned not to give up and to be desired. I learned to hold back. hold everything. pee ', breathing, screaming.

I learned to question everything. but not everything.

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letter from my friend francesco

"Virginia, you can not believe the excitement! Do not know if I've never seen a crowd like that, and say that they do all the marches, the 1st of May is always square with the CGIL extension ever.
But how today, never! And then, how wonderful: organized and opened by women, this event would signal the fact that women 'build networks.' And so from all sides rained giant balls of yarn of all colors, that crowd passed from hand to hand and so the sky was a canvas of colorful wool incredible. Wires and wires that were woven. And look what we're talking about Piazza San Carlo, Via Roma, Piazza Castello and Via Po are full! !
short, I was moved.
Virginia, just lots of experience, made a bit 'of money and then come here to live: maybe in a few years it will be better. And Italy is still a great country, despite everything. "

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"I Wished I Had died before anyone But I loved her."

last night in a valley of tears, I finished the book I was reading and I literally devoured. My reality for a week, 'was the book, then I stopped to work or doing shopping, looking as soon as possible to return to my reading. Rarely does a book to me this effect devastating. This time I personified so much to feel good and evil in history. wonderful experience but also destabilizing in a sense. The book 'The Paris Wife and will be published in the UK next month (read the books first of all' a privilege of the work I do but it 's a shame not being able to immediately share with others - reading as opposed to what we think can be a 'very social!). I know that in Italy have been sold the rights and should be out soon for Pozza Blacks.

The novel 'based on true facts, give a reading made this interview with the author but not read it all the way because of things revealed in the novel. Writing very exciting, simple and with a fast pace. There are many dialogues and it 's all told in first person from protagonist, Hadley, the first wife of Ernest Hemighway, the "wife in Paris."

The novel and 'first of all a window on the world of women, because of fragility', dreams, fears, passions, conflicts and unexpected strength. And this world to meet Ernest Hemingway, writer and above all man, although still 21 years old. And so begins a story of passion, love and respect. It ciberanno each other but in different ways. Of course a woman I deeply hated the egos and disproportionate dominance of Hemingway, a lover of words I loved the appearance of writers cone Fitzgerald, Pound, Stein. From everything I have experienced lecturer who has lived Hadley for the duration of the pages. The power of words.

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and then buy the red and yellow flowers, will light the incense and lamps. I open all the blinds and you will see the roofs of the houses with their antennae that rise to heaven, and far a piece of sea. the stars in the sky light up like windows in the houses. will lay a colorful carpet in the empty room with white walls and fresh. settle down in cooking the fruit in a wicker basket and a jar with fresh water, lemon slices and mint leaves. Photos will be on my wall elsewhere. the next day at the port there will be fresh fish for lunch on the terrace time will stop the smell of coffee. enough laughter and songs, but there will be no room for nostalgia and deep breaths. my grandmother rocked in a chair that will beat a strong up and down and I'll wake up in a big bed listening to the murmur of voices in the room next door. shall find the red and yellow flowers and open windows and the curtains flying. everything will be repeated ad infinitum.

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say 'cheers

on my way to Brick Lane did all my thoughts, my mind is not still for a minute. I had several months I'm spending, and the podiatrist (haha not 'a dirty word but someone who tells you how to walk and that is derived also a lot of money to tell you, and even then tells you that evil ways and makes you spend more money to walk properly!) - and the weekend in Naples and the fact that in turin lighthouse and home, and this and that. what it 'might have years and promptly return the stessse concerns. if I do this of course can not afford this other thing. shopping needless to name it, I pretend that the SALT written in the windows are in Italian and I do not need salt, thanks. such mental contortions. then go to the origin and the origin and 'I chose this, I chose to work with books, with words, I chose not to consider it' money will 'be able to process when I decided what to study. and while walking, but I'm only costs 5 concert pound and then you're out is the whole week, and then and then and then ... and it 'got a pretty frank.

yes, Francis of the beautiful singer of the group underground Naples - the 24 grain - on stage at a local alternative in Brick Lane, the beautiful east london, perhaps stopped or scrambled all my thoughts. them calm down, justified, evaporated, lightened. I was mesmerized by the joy of this guy singing and being on that stage before us. one of the few singers, perhaps the only one I've seen him smile as he sang, his singing was an ongoing relationship with our audience, never closed his world as singers often do. it seemed he was talking about one by one, seemed to be telling. enchanted. I noticed it at some point that I was enchanted, not only by the lyrics but by how wonderful these guys and their passion were one. by these things and you realize what life is essential to find their own way of speaking, being able to speak, to think, to be through something 'important. vital.

the 24 grain remind me of the summer at the lake when I'll take 'stefano at their first concert and them' I met John, one of our several chance encounters in that period. and then I remember the summer instead of Naples, a recent, in 2009, my summer of rebuilding say, Italian and even last summer, another friend, I bring nuncio 'feel good that Francis was playing alone at pompeiLab in a cute place in Pompeii.

short, "always the same dress and nun crisciut never know ... already ', what I thought as I walked down the street to the concert and now after the concert and I' remained in the lead sentence of this song and I feel wonderful. There will always be so and so Vabene. I know exactly the weight of my choice every small or large, know the value of my every penny, I know the importance of my expenditure and my evenings at home, I know what it's worth hug because I know what my brother and 'painful not to be his sister home. "I do not see the fear I see is the expectation expressed in excess of fragility '.

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"He grew up in a room thick books, which produced the effect to enlarge it when it was cleared by a move. But while we slept in was immense, spreading out from page to page browsed. I spoke in Italian, without the accent of his books, doing my forked tongue, a good destination for Naples'. Between us there is no work was mine. Age 'good for all of eighteen years left not only the time spent with him, but the future, he had set for me over the years with the care of premeditation. I left in her room all the time and all the past imagined the future, by keeping an imaginary present. "

" Among its shelves arembaggio I met the eyes of pages and wonderful stories. Among the mountains recognize his willingness to take off from the tumult, to obtain the distance of urgency. Scalo, I rub on the rough stone, compact, above the blank wall above one of the pages, touching the surface. From his books, from the mountains I got the use of touch. "

When I set foot in Naples, now more and more rarely, one of the first things I do, after a coffee ', and' to move from Dante and Descartes' (libreiria and publisher). It often happens that they then take the second coffee. 'But it' s a different coffee. The first and 'I take a coffee with the city, 'coffee' reconciliation, the return of nostalgia. The second and 'real coffee', what you take when you go to visit a friend, you have to taste and talk about books, writers, culture, hardship, dreams and reality '. What slows down the pace. Enter by Dante and Descartes is not 'enter into a simple library, and' pure concept into the library. The books are not arranged in alphabetical order or instruction of the country or who knows what other logical order. The books are for the beauty and did not order. The Raymond decide. And then, are everywhere. On tables, on shelves, on the ground, up, down. Everywhere and all mixed up. A book just published can be close to a book 50 years ago, which obviously has Raimondo. Entering from Dante and Descartes means to meet Raymond and his unconditional love for what he does. In his library all come, but few are passing, even if the library is via mezzocannone between the comings and goings of students and the shade of clothing stores that invade the straights. Whoever enters by Dante and Descartes because he wants to enter them into their own, because that book is trying because he wants that advice, because he wants to chat and have coffee. All this can be Raymond. From him I have met over the years, writers, philosophers and artists.
And when I leave and Dante Descartes obviously a good book I always, always less than they would like to take and not ever think that they have paid full price for a book, Raymond has always wanted me a discount, no, no loyalty cards' - from Dante and Descartes are faithful to write the book, to APROL, locations, people, not to a brand.
One of the books I always usually after having been away from Dante and Descarte and 'almost always a book of Erri de Luca, a friend of Raymond. You were not there I took Saturday, 40 pages, a sip of poetry, as always. Absence as often.
And the comparison with the publisher and the bookseller and friend of Errington, Raimondo on this little book filled me with joy. The book edited by Dante and Descartes in fact it only costs € 5, Raymond has made me pay 4, I would have given him 10.

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Words and People's wishes - these are my

sector with a pizza, he and I alone
a short trip alone, a long trip overseas company
two good books, an old friend, a new love
a garden full of flowers, and more Strawberry
find a bill on the floor laughing
my father, my grandmother who sleeps serene, my mother who loves
less internet, more smiles
a new language, a new dress, high heels more
more starry skies , more lego pieces
more tickets written in blue ink pen
at least one film Toto ', and two of troisi be seen in the company
more prosecco and champagne less
more designs with only savior of blacks and blue-ray
a boat trip on the train and many
a letter, a lot of pictures some day of laziness

less hours of work more
exhibitions, most walking aimlessly, more lanes, less highways

a bike with an outdoor table over coffee and sheets scarabbocchiare
slow
lots of kisses and caresses

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International this year - still a good year next

Week


Happy New Year

Shorten the distances. Give me a lift. Six months without
Ikea. Keep calm.
Make my apologies to Ibrahimovic.
Take the children to Pompeii before everything collapses. Less
ready-made soups for dinner. Making decent holiday.
Learn sign language.
Spending a month between the Tropic of Cancer and Capricorn.
Talk more, listen less. Read the biography of Louis XV in France.
open a hotel on the beach in Zihuatanejo.
Be moderate in moderation.
Learn how to cook lasagna as does my grandmother.
Finding a place for comics.
Create a library of graphic styles.
Return to smile.
least one weekend with snow, fire, chestnuts and mulled wine.
go with the lasagna, even to lay siege to Prato with chestnut and divers ammargelluto plums and rustling more round and come back. Labs! I wake before the morning.
stop procrastinating the good intentions of past years.
Lower shields. See
much my friends.
A great trip.
watch less television. Cultivating
zero.
Getting Familiar with the pressure cooker.
Learning to drive.
experiment.

As usual, these are the good intentions of writing International. Giovanni De Mauro

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good next year!

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homes

savior in front of me has been spilled on the table, the pieces of Lego that I got, and we are building a house. a house with three doors and four windows, all stuck. a house with no walls and the door is in football and a pool. I almost envy him because I do not live in his fantasy world where the houses have three doors, but are attacked relentlessly invaded by rationality. Meanwhile, the fire burning in the fireplace and I continue to nibble the nougat center that are in the table, and then the struffoli, and then a dried fig and dried apricot and maybe a piece of melon and why not, a bit of Parmesan cheese. bang bang but I do not know that I seize, I can not stop. between lego and various foods and 'past also the birth then I stop here front of the fireplace and I understand that I always feel a bit out of place. the strange play of identities, the play of space, you do not recognize most, especially at Christmas, when the memories come in without knocking and found only pieces of you. but I fly over, I keep the scattered pieces and memories, I drink coffee and eat struffoli in a house that I have never heard this and that to me and 'the house of my parents and because' they have decided to stay here - with little awareness - after leaving it for me and my brothers house was real. now a thousand homes and hundreds of places to look up to when I have a house without walls and doors and windows as the only savior of this where all my parts will come and go without difficulty.

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The vertical bagging possible to obtain high-speed packaging and limited cost of the package. But they can also offer interesting marketing solutions such as the envelope open and close.

As shown in the picture ' stickpack automatically applies a label that covers a punch in the film (also done automatically.

In this way the consumer can safely close the container after use preserving the fragrance of the food stored in the envelope.

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Lazio to the north

The Viking officially born in Northern Italy at Lazio - Brescia 94/95, the fusion of the nuclei of Piedmont and Lombardy Viking Lazio, the latter operating since the 1989/1990 season. We are born with the express purpose of bringing together under common signs all the guys who support residents in northern Italy with Lazio ultras mentality (as well as we work some traditional clubs, but this is a 'something else ..). .

The need a group of ultras reference to the Lazio fans living in the north has brought many years ago some guys in the founding of the sections of the major groups of Lazio: Eagles sect. Milan, sez.Veneto ...

sunset, the glory of these "cells" were responsible for the current 's idea to bring together the old and new fans of Lazio behind a single name: "North Legion", a group completely independent of other major groups of the north curve.

After the contacts have taken place in the succession of boys from Piedmont and Lombardy, and the birth of the relevant sections "Piedmont" and "Lombardy" operating separately for two years or so, came the merger of the two sections in a single mobilization ultras: The Viking North Italy.

Currently, the group that a presence in all travel to the North and the Centre of Italy SSLazio and all 'Olympic meeting in cartel or greater rivalry, as well as in the European travel allow us to tackle our finances, has its headquarters in Turin and military sees in it a number of activists from various locations in the North. The style that we are seeking and 'rather casual, to put it to' English (although we are proud to be Italian) ... pretty elite group, strong bonds of friendship, a zine and a website.

Greetings to all groups following the SS Lazio, twin, friends and all the real ultras!

The Board Viking Nord Lazio Italy

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The packaging of vegetables in salads, especially the fourth range, is becoming increasingly popular in Italy. The little time for cooking and also for shopping by households are increasing the demand for food easy to cook.


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is an excellent example of how vertical bagging can help reduce packaging and reduce packaging costs:

Article from "www.Lastampa.it"

The Sainsbury's stores in London selling cereals in plastic bags. E 'tendency to save on packaging: prices reduction will reduce global pollution and the amount of waste to be disposed
MATTIA BAGNOLI
LONDON
Care goodbye old cereal boxes. To take a deep breath and give the story a symbol of Anglo-Saxon food is the supermarket giant Sainsbury's. That after a year of pilot tests, with the abacus accounts, market research to see if there is a risk facing the customer (to replace the British impressed more traditional double sink with mixer tap, that gay marriage) has decided to give the green revolution.


From December Cereals model "classic" Sainsbury's is only found in the envelope: the ecology asks. And customers agree. Not to mention the cost of distribution will fall. So everyone is happy. So much so that, over time, the whole range of cereals products from the supermarket giant, with the exception of those cookie, which otherwise would break lose the rectangular container.


"So you lose a ' icon of British breakfast - explains Stuart Lendrum, head of the packaging of Sainsbury's - but that will spare cardboard, spaces, and will reduce our consumption of carbon dioxide. " In supermarkets every little detail has a large spill: Customers will use fewer plastic bags because the volume occupied by the grains will be reduced. And the fuel consumption of trucks will drop because you can load more product per trip. Not to mention that when it comes the only traditional line, the savings will amount to more than 165 tons per year. Advantages that have led Sainsbury's to take chances. "The response from our customers at the novelty of the line Rice Pops, sold for over a year in one plastic bag, was very good - said Lendrum - so we decided to proceed with other products.


Sainsbury's is trying to convince other major brands of cereal producers - one out of all the Kellogg's - to follow suit. But it is a failed attempts. The U.S. giant has no intention, at least in the near future, leaving the famous box with the rooster. "Our study - told the Times a spokesman for the company - show that the flakes suffer damage if there is no protection of cardboard. In addition, our boxes and envelopes available mitigation is entirely recyclable. If you only use the bag to pack the grains have to use a thicker plastic, more difficult to dispose of. " And since each day the British consume 2.8 million bowls of Kellogg's Corn Flakes is not numbers recently.


is not the first time Sainsbury's decided to make a choice 'unilateral' the milk has been evicted from plastic bags to end up in thin envelopes. "Eliminating the cereal boxes - concludes Lendrum - will help us cut through the packaging of one third by 2015."


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The biscuits are usually packed in bags.
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SEASON 2010 2011 1900 sslazio

AVANTI LAZIO!