Pedal Edema Blood Pressure

Modpost \u0026lt;3

Hi, people! How are you? We're enjoying the last remnants of winter? March is upon us and with him a few weeks, also come the spring. But it is not to talk about the seasons that are here today XD but to introduce a new rule (plus a tip, an appeal to your common sense, you know, but it goes without saying that it is suggested to avoid imposing a time that is imposed then if you are caught red-handed taking a punishment and there are dicks), and to introduce a new affiliate.

So, as regards the rule , I thought it was something implicit in the presence of locks to the posts, but apparently not, then we specify, when picked up pieces of stories posted on this community, you always ask the author for permission to use elsewhere. The presence of the lock means to post their protection, so to post "clear" pieces of history in this community need to ask permission. And, when you post elsewhere, please remember to credit this the original author. There is no post, for example, on Facebook, whole pieces of fanfiction not even say where they come from. I recommend a bit 'of a minimum of attention and respect. :)

As for the new affiliate Instead, please welcome the gallery of Tokio Hotel - Die Besten Der Welt forum rather well known in the circuit that you'll probably know you too:) It seemed like a useful resource and also quite graphically pleasing, which is why I decided to put the banner together with the other members there at the top ^ _ ^ And this is what

, user friendly. Until next time!

Egg White Cervical Mucus

[Series] Und So Weiter [fanfiction] There Will Be A Dry Eye In The House Tonight [NC-17] Introduction II

Title: There Will Be A Dry Eye In The House Tonight
Author: lisachanoando ( Lizon )
Genre: Introspective .
Rating: NC-17
Torque: Fler / Chakuza, WTO / Fler.
Alerts: Angst, Violence, Slash, OC.
Wordcount: 5079
Summary: " But I'm here in front of a boy not a weakness, then that is what I understood and shared by him and Fler. They can be incredibly strong, they both know that unbreakable armor use, but overlapping with, their core is still soft and vulnerable. only to discover it scare you for what you could do bad touching. "
Notes: continues with this shot of the series spin-off dedicated to Flerkuza and its derivatives XD Get ready to see what Fler had in mind when he spoke of taking care of Danny. Bring you panic bags of air. Also spit in it, in the case.
Apart from that, a quick warning: this history, the extensive wine cellar filled with stories that we had already written months or weeks ago is out, why it is likely that from next week onwards updates to suffer some delay:) We know that you will forgive us.


(Patton of the Tab, as usual)

THERE WILL NOT BE A DRY EYE IN THE HOUSE TONIGHT
I hid my head in the fridge, when it happens . I do not have time to understand a damn thing, really, because I'm scraping the bottom of drawers and shelves to try to prepare something edible for dinner. Something that has not been able to evolve to the stage amphibian, at least. There are olives in a jar. I try to remember if I even make the sauce in the bottle for some 'pasta, but then I look better and olives are almost certain to see the eyes, somewhere, so I give up. Beside me, there is the constant presence of Daniel, who wanders near my annoying person and judged. He has his arms crossed over his chest, one of them blindfolded and still around his neck, as dislocated, and looks at me with evident pity.
- Is not nothin 'in here, eh? - asks in disgust - I do not know if you have this life that I did at my house, but at least the food was never missing.
- now I find something. - I mumbled, getting up and closing the refrigerator door, so that is clearly not find anything. - I'm just looking in the wrong place.
- What place further from the truth of the refrigerator to find food edible, for that matter. - He rolls his eyes, following me as I move toward the cabinet above the stove and began to open them all together to be able to have a full overview.
- Not all the stuff to eat for strength should be stored at four degrees Celsius. - I make him out, frowning. Cans of tuna! Here's how to win this battle. I rise on tiptoe to reach the three packs of tuna packed in oil on the last shelf on top, triumphant thinking that if the sauce is really what I thought before, hidden somewhere in this kitchen, I will tuna with pasta so good that this naughty boy cry of joy, apologizing for being an evil and enslave my will while I live, consenting to be thrown out of my house not to be never see again.
squeeze the cans in his hands and turn around the package a formality. It should not be expired.
... but it is not. I feel physically
Daniel arch of the eyebrow on his forehead, produces an almost audible sound, like fingernails on a blackboard.
- I see that even those stored at room temperature are not a dull moment around here. - Says, leaning just to note the expiration date indicating an object too distant in time to be masked with a mild "should be, 'So much is still good."
- Look, if all you want to do is turn myself around like a vulture without even giving me a helping hand, go back to lounging on the couch! - Blurt offended, glanced in disgust. Where the hell is Fler when I need it? Why not go home and drag this social evil to get ice cream or shoot the birds with a slingshot or whatever they do for fun when they are together without having to strip naked?
- We'll even help, - Daniel sighed, arching his eyebrows in an expression that seems truly contrite and embittered to the point that I opened his eyes and looked at him and I even feel guilty. I. Guilty. Let's talk. - Unfortunately, with this arm here ... - sighs again, indicating for the arm nurses with a quick gesture of his head.
I scratched his neck nervously, looking away. Damn kid.
- I-
- No, come to think - he interrupts me, curling his lips into a grimace reflexive - Not help you even if I had the good arm, it is true. I prefer to break your balls girandoti around like a vulture, yes.
- Daniel ...! - Thunder, as he stares at me blankly and sticks out his tongue with a knowing air. I have no time to tell him anything, or just to organize what I would tell him, because I feel the key turn in the lock and suddenly this brings me back to reality. Fler is back. - At the early hour! - Yelled, hands on hips, - But do you know where was she? For a second
Fler eyes are lost and confused. It is as if, to a time before arriving, was taken by many other thoughts, much more severe and serious, and be in front of me that I legitimately complain of pain I'm suffering was a possibility that he had not even considered, because they are too busy to plan who knows what else. It is a different light that illuminates the eyes and casts dark shadows and mysterious to the rest of his face and his expression, but it only lasts a moment. I watch him smile wryly, while laying the keys on the console and closes the door behind him.
- Maybe you do not remember, but I do not live here. - Me this - why these protests seem decidedly out of your site.
- Out of place, yes. - I agree, frowning, - Just as the presence of your lover in my house. Explain because he has to live here?
- Look, are two inches from you and not her lover. - Daniel reminds me, again crossing his arms over his chest somewhere to my left. - Even if I become one, if you really care about.
- prefer to have lived in my apartment and I could sneak in there every time I want to meet him secretly while you are not watching? - Fler asks me, giving me a look amused.
- I would prefer! - Daniel admits, raising the healthy arm for emphasis.
- You stay here. - I growl, extensible to retrieve the wooden spoon on the table and throwing a spoonful on the head.
- Ouch! - He complains, massaging the sore point and losing a hand in that huge ball of hair that continues to grow inexorably in blatant affront to my person - I could report you for abuse, you know? - Threatening me, making me another tongue. I rolled his eyes, let go, and go back to look Fler with the look, but he's gone.
- Fler? - I call it, going around the island and started walking to the corridor, catching up in the bedroom watching and quickly slip a clean shirt and jacket just above, - What the heck are you doing? He
system the collar of his jacket, looking away.
- You are right here, right? - Calls, blatantly ignoring my question, - You do not need anything?
- ... no, no-Fler, what happens? - I ask insistently, a step closer. He forces a smile, returning at last to look into my eyes.
- I have a business to attend to. - Said, before wandering around and take the corridor.
- Fler! - I chase him, stopping just when I almost bumped into - but what the heck ...? - Muttered, leaning over to look at his body. There is Daniel still in front of him, watching him with evident curiosity.
- Where do you go? - He asks. Fler not respond immediately.
- I have a business to attend to. - Then repeated, holding his gaze. The term quiet Daniel remains so for a few seconds before suddenly crack.
- No. - said with difficulty, taking a step toward him, - Fler-
But he did not listen to him, avoiding his body and heading quickly towards the door. I look at them and do not understand anything. I look at the eyes of Fler, two blue spots perfectly serene, calm, focused, lost in the sea of broken contracts and worried about his features. And we do not understand anything.
- I will later tonight. - He says, his voice is distant. - Do not wait for me awake.
disappears through the door the next minute, and I have no idea yet of what happened.
- What ...? - Chance, glancing Daniel uncertain. He turns to look at me, finally stopping to fix the door closed with the expression of one who is waiting to burst into tears at any moment. Tightens his lips and holds her breath, and when it seems he's going to tell me something, but I do not say anything.
- No. - stutters uncertain, before going to closing in the first room available. Which is also the only one. My room.
It shows up only at dinner time. I go out shopping in the afternoon and then step I do not know how much time behind the stoves, how can I get distracted, I cook for an army, and when he leaves the room, all wrinkled and taut and eyes so red that if I did not know who cried, orders a drug test immediately, comes into the kitchen dragging their feet and scratching his head and standing in the doorway, watching the spectacle on the island full of equipment and food while I acted around us, arranging everything with maniacal almost pathological.
- Hey. - The smile nervously - You woke up. I prepared a little something to eat.
- known .... - He says, his voice slurred and a little 'hoarse. - It was felt, right? - Asks fearfully, refusing to meet my gaze.
- No. - I say, pushing a stool and playing a couple of times the palm of your hand against the chair, to invite him to sit. I would like Fler ask him if he really knows where he went, or what is going to do, but it is clear that Daniel did not want to talk about, and perhaps, if it is something that Daniel did not want to talk, there are high chances that it is also something I I do not want to hear. For this reason, I try to smile and I sit on the stool beside him. - Do not think about it now. - Shake my head, lifting the bowl and serve a large portion of boiled broccoli, - eat your dinner. Fler for those I have already put aside, when you eat again. He notes
vegetables with hallucinatory air, pricking with a fork for a few seconds before deciding to leave her alone and go back and watch me.
- Chakuza, you hate me much? - Therefore asking me to be a broccoli and sideways. He rolls his eyes, cough forcefully, sending down a generous swig of water and I clean with his napkin before clears his throat and return his glance with a calm full of bewilderment.
- What, sorry? - I ask in my turn, raising his eyebrows - Look at the broccoli are good for you. You are too skinny as you are tall, not that I'm trying to poison you. - Muttered resentfully. He laughs, and his laugh is totally different from what I've always heard him when it came to laugh at me. It is a resigned laugh, a bit 'sad. Grips my heart, I think, if this senso di colpa assolutamente immotivato che mi prende quando lo vedo meno che contento può essere paragonato a un’espressione simile. Il mio rapporto con Daniel, in questo senso, è un po’ confuso. Mi arrabbio quando è felice, perché il più delle volte lo è solo quando può stare appiccicato a Fler. Ma sono triste quando non lo è, perché il più delle volte non lo è solo quando deve stargli lontano.
- Non sto parlando dei broccoli. – si stringe nelle spalle, seguendo con la punta di un dito i disegni quadrettati della tovaglia, - Stavo solo pensando che… non lo so. – ride ancora, cambiando lievemente posizione come se stesse scomodo, - Posso riuscire a capire perché Fler still keeps me with him. But you? You should hate me. I think.
I swallow a little more 'water, inhaling deeply.
- Hate is a great feeling, Daniel. - I explained - too huge and too dirty, unmanageable. Hating someone takes away pieces of yourself, pieces that give in to anger, resentment, envy, desire for revenge and who knows what else. - Sigh, shrugging his shoulders, - I do not reason in these terms. All in all, I have a good life. I am a happy man. I was sad in the past, and I tried a grudge against someone, but I never let these bad feelings take control over me and turn hate. Hatred will not take you anywhere, if not more hatred. It is not a wise way to live their lives. Anyone can claim to be happy, can hardly hate. Or so I think. - Conclude by looking away.
Daniel nods slowly, his blue eyes lost on something that I can not identify. Are so similar to those of Fler ... not only in color. It is something more intimate, more profound. And maybe what I understand when Daniel opens his lips and speaks, a little later.
- I do not have much to be happy, then. - Says the plan, - Why I hate my father. I hate it so much that I do not know how many times I dreamed of being alone with immobilized him somewhere, to be able to punch and kick him until passing the same signs that he has left me. ... And at the same time - let go a sigh that was almost a groan, and supports both elbows on the table, as no longer able to stand straight on the stool with his own efforts, - At the same time I think my father must not 'be much happier if he hates himself enough to get what you do, and hates me enough to hit me at first than I can remember.
Weave your fingers on the table, licked her lips as I try the best words to continue. That is something I never do, I mean that I'm trying to filter out thoughts and I do not I throw it on first that comes to mind to express it exactly as it was formulated in the dark recesses of my brain? I'm so out of character that most complaints from me alone. But I'm here in front of a boy not a weakness, then that is what I understood and shared by him and Fler. They can be incredibly strong, unbreakable armor that they both know how to use, but overlapping with, their core is still soft and vulnerable. Only to discover it scare you to what you might do bad touching.
- I think it's Tempelhof. - I say softly, nodding with conviction - poisons people. Think of me, I've set foot almost two hours and I came out with more a form of Swiss cheese holes! - Plays down, shrugging his shoulders and gesticulating and praying to God to send me the good, and he happily does, because Daniel let go a laugh a half attimino deepest of all those he has done since we were sitting around discussing life , beatings and death in the ghetto, all things that I absolutely do not want to talk even when they are calm and serene when I picture a man lost in the mists of Berlin and not even know if he will return home in one piece, and I can pull a sigh of relief.
- Maybe. - Concluded, rising, - In any case, I doubt that will matter from now on. - Add in a half whisper, and then come a smile, looking up at me. - Look, I'm very hungry, - confessed with difficulty - but I would like broccoli they eat tomorrow. I keep them?
nod, in my turn, getting up and emptying both of our dishes still virtually full nell'insalatiera. The broccoli that I had to make the company released back to their brothers Daniel and leaves the kitchen and disappears from sight. I place in the fridge and I think that when you come home Fler, the ingozzerò enough to prevent him from being hungry for the rest of the week. So, just because I can.
When I finish tidying up, I go to the couch on Daniel convinced us that watch TV, and I'm so well disposed towards him and asked him if I do not want him, the bed, maybe just for tonight. But I do not have time because I find him already asleep, lying on the couch for a long and feet dangling over the armrest of the chair touching the one next to it. I smile when, back in the kitchen and setting to spend some 'time washing dishes and arranging stuff that I never thought to put in place in a normal situation, such as cartons of canned food in the lockers, or the collection of spices on the shelf above the stove.
finish that midnight has already passed one piece, but there is still no trace of Fler. I sigh and recover the phone, I try to call and hear the bell ringing somewhere in the bedroom. It's so rare that Fler not carry with it the first phone that I can hardly believe what my ears hear. I go into your room and see the cell phone rings and vibrates slightly on the bedside table, and only then, in the face of visual evidence, I resign myself, and I close the call. I let myself go sit on the bed, wondering what I should do. When I disappeared, Fler has almost turned the city to find myself. But I would not be able to do it, so I will simply wait. I lay in bed, by his side, which is something that almost never do, but today it does. Today, even a little 'Who cares of the things that I do almost ever.
I realize that I fell asleep when I wake up, I do not know how many hours later. The night is still dark outside the window, but I see the profile of Fler sitting on the edge of the bed. It gives me the shoulders hunched and silent as I've never seen. It seems depressed, and is something that grips my heart.
- Fler ...? - I call it, the voice thick with sleep, while I rise on his elbows. He does not move, and really does not give the impression of not heard me. It remains there, motionless as a statue of salt. I hear him breathe, but it's a slight murmur, which does not have the slightest impact on his body. He does not inflate the chest, not her shoulders, I wonder whether it is sufficient to keep him alive.
I better straighten up and smear on the mattress to him, leaning over the curved line of his shoulders to throw a look alarmed. There is something strange in his figure, perhaps in her clothes, but it's dark and I can not see well.
- Fler? - I call it again, definitely. He still does not move, staring in front of him. His profile in the dark for a second change shape when wet his lips. He stroked his tongue in a hasty gesture, which runs out after the shows when, with such speed as to give the impression that he left impressed by his own taste, as this may sound absurd thing. - You do not want to talk? - Wonder. He obviously does not respond. I sigh. I'm angry, it annoys me that it continues to remain silent even though it is clear that I am concerned and I would take a half a word to reassure her and get back to peaceful sleep, but I decide not to be overwhelmed by anger, and shrug. - OK, - nod, - okay if you do not want to talk. At least come to bed and rest. I do not know what time it is but it must be late. - I suggest, and at the same time I get back to crawl to the other half of the bed, which is always his, but tonight I decided it's mine, that he sleeps beside me or not.
It is then that he moves. His arm stretches slowly into the darkness of the room, deep black shadow in the background just lighter shade of the front wall, dimly lit by the bluish light of the night, and his fingers close around the switch-dell'abat lamp, turning it on. The room is invested by the warm yellow light bulb, and so his body. A body in patches, like a Dalmatian. Only the spots that cover it are red and dark and thick as blood. They are blood.
- Fler! - I call it, returning immediately close and putting his hands on. Jet legs off the bed and sat on the bank beside him, the ride and turned it over to control by where is all that blood. His expression, however, did not appear distressed. Or rather, it seems, but not as if hurt. The pain in her eyes is one of those elusive that leave no visible scars on the skin. On him, now I'm used to recognize it. - Fler, what happened?
- not mine. - He says. They are the first words that escape his lips since I opened my eyes. Come out rough and uncertain, it seems to me to see them groping around, bothered by light, running to take refuge in the shadow cone of the corners of the room. - Blood. - States after briefly pulled up his nose - not mine.
- Have you had a fight? - Asked frowning eyebrows. He looks down on his hands. Are abandoned in her lap, dirty, caked with blood.
- I went into his house. - Says to me, and I stuck with me. I freezes the air in the lungs, his blood, saliva on the tongue. I stare in horror and I would find enough voice to tell him that I do not know anything, but I remain silent. - He slept. - Continued - was so drunk that he had not noticed to have vomited in his sleep, or if he had realized he had cheated, and had remained there immersed in his own vomit to sleep and snore. You can not imagine the disgust of having to touch, Chaku.
- Fler-
- I went downstairs and went into the kitchen - continued him, as if he had not heard - and I tried a clean glass. I searched for a long time - laughs bitterly - but I finally found it, and I filled with water. Then I went back upstairs in the bedroom. I grabbed and I flipped on the mattress on his back. And then I threw water in my face because I wanted it to be conscious, Chaku. Got it? I wanted to be awake and knew what was going on.
- Fler ..., - I hardly swallow, take your hands off and let it fall inert in her lap - to whom are you talking about?
He looks at me a long time, and in the end decided not to respond. I do not know if it does because he wants to protect me or because considers the question so stupid, and the answer so obvious, will not have to even consider. The fact is that it does not say anything, but somehow in that moment, in light of his serious eyes I find myself sad and frightened silence of Daniel, and everything makes sense.
- He woke up with a grunting animal. - Resumes, returning to lower their gaze, - And I said "this is not a man, this is a beast." I do not know why I thought, maybe because it was easier. - Shrugs - I shook hands around the neck, but I just wanted him stunned and afraid. I did not want to kill him that way, it would be nice. You know what happens when you choke? - When you look at me, her eyes brimming with something sweet and child that gives me the chills. - It is sweet, - says in a low voice, - the air is exhausted, little by little and it's like falling asleep, in a sense. Sure, of course, is more violent, - says, letting slip a half-nervous laugh that jars uncomfortably in the silence of the room, broken only by his voice - but is quiet. Othello, you've got this Othello? I have not studied much, at school, but my mother loved Shakespeare, I was a child filled his ears. Here, Othello, Desdemona when it's out, and choked. Because he loves her and knows that it will suffer less with a knife in his belly. - Just smile in a puff of breath exhausted. - I did not want it to be sweet. I wanted to hurt.
swallow again, and then again when I realize that I feel that the blockade is not simply at the throat down. I resign myself, running a hand over his eyes, and when I speak still has only to say what I should say at the outset, the question Fler been waiting for when I woke up, one which continues to respond without my 's has yet to post, but he still wants to hear.
- Fler, you've done? - I ask in a whisper, a whisper barely audible. Fler I poured him a cascade of words without brakes, and I suppose that's not even care to hear my voice say the words, he just wanted to know that I understood what she was telling me, because as long as I pretended to have no idea he just could not tell me everything.
- I was allowed to stand, it was heavy but it seemed very light. He looked at me and was scared, so scared. I beat him for hours, I do not know ... for days. - To tell him that I was away a lot less than a day, but he quickly resumed talking. - It was unrecognizable as soon as I finished, a mask of blood. I dropped to the ground when she fainted, but I continued to beat him even if no longer responds not only did not try to defend himself, but he could not even moan of pain, I know, give me a sign of life. I'm screwed. I started and I looked straight ahead, I spat in his face and then I crushed his head underfoot. - Stops and opens his eyes wide, staring at the wall while I drive like a block of marble, is struggling to curb the attempts. He used that expression with human beings has nothing to do. You crush the beetles, spiders, ants, mice at the most. Not people. - I've crushed the head . - Again, stressing the words. I pounded and pounded and pounded until I heard that they broke and sank in the shoe- Christ. - Folds in on itself, burying her face in her hands, and I am so paralyzed that I'm afraid to move because I'm tense and I could also go to pieces, but when I see him bend that way I lean toward him, I lose balance, the fall on him but somehow I can keep up, shake it and feel it melt into a flood of tears in my arms as she cries and complains like a baby and shaking like a leaf and I do not know, I have no idea how I should solve this situation.
- What are you doing? - Ask rocked a bit, 'and he, in tears, he lets out a hysterical laugh.
- I have no idea. - Responds, shrugging his shoulders - not that the bastard will be missed by anyone, so do not take risks ... I think - said, while I'm freezing of new blood in the veins, - But I have to do cleaning. - Sigh - I do not know, I'll call tomorrow and see what Sonny-- stops suddenly, shaking his head - I'll call Bushido - is correct - and we'll see what to do. - Pauses for a few moments, breathing in and out a bit 'hard. - Sorry. - Says so, - I'm talking in the language of another world.
am departing soon, returning to sit beside him but leaving him on the shoulder. His cheeks still streaked with tears, but his eyes, though bloodshot, are dry.
- It's your world. - Hint, strengthening his grip on his shoulder. He shakes his head.
- No, that's the trouble. - Whispers - not my world, not more, at least, and I can not pretend that killing a person is now equal to killing six or seven years ago.
I licked her lips, swallowing hard.
- had already done it? - I ask breathlessly. He turns to look at me and opens his lips, but the greenhouse immediately, shaking his head.
- I need some sleep, 'Chaku. - She says quietly, forcing a tired smile that looks more like a wound - Do you mind if I put down a few hours?
- No ... - I answer, - Of course not. - I stand up, leaving space and tucked just relax, resting his head on the pillow with an exhausted sigh and closing his eyes immediately. I watch him a bit 'remains standing beside the bed while listening to her sigh calm down slowly, and then turn off the light. I no longer sleep, if I ever had. I leave the room and enough for me to step into the hall to hear the muffled weeping of Daniel.
I leaned out the door and glanced at the sofa. Under the pile of blankets that I see that Daniel is buried his face in the pillow. Fler him and even have the same kind of crying is disturbing. I suppose that when grow in a place that does not allow you to do it when you need it, at some point becomes a little weep 'as explode. You hold it while you can, but you get to a point where you have to let you go by force, and can not be a quiet thing.
- Danny. - Approaching murmur.
- I'm fine. - I immediately stopped him, hiding under the blanket so he can not see his face - Stay there. I'm fine, just a moment. Time passes.
breathes in and out, shaking his head. I approach the same, putting her hand on the back of the couch and leaned slightly toward him.
- Listen, - I say - I did not sleep. I get a little 'ice cream and watch a movie if You have not even sleep. But if you want to sleep I'm going back to your room.
He sobs for a few seconds and then dares to pull his nose out of the tangle of blankets on which hath been knotted. It is purple and swollen and a bit 'choppy. Who knows how much she cries. Fler probably since he returned.
- Which movie? - Asks me uncertain - and the ice cream that taste?
I try to smile.
- you can choose both. - Answer with a shrug.
Daniel hesitated a couple of seconds, but eventually comes out, stands up and follows me into the kitchen. Even his eyes were dry now, and even his cheeks, however, remain wet. And as I look to fill a cup of hazelnut gelato and then drag it back there to put dvd hand column next to the TV, I understand that this kid has ceased to be a problem only Fler, and has become a problem even mine.

Play Simpsons Hit And Run Online

The legend of the jumper were

You should know that the Venetian childhood living with a constant average sense of inadequacy and a strong inferiority complex towards the "older generation" . And, mind you, is not that this is the result of accidental or inadvertent pressure on the new by the old guard. If there is a fault that our infallible predecessors is the conscious stain sadism that often permeates their view, even dissent against us ggiovani. And it is a sort of chain letter, an unhealthy habit that is perpetuated from generation to generation through which the frustration of the foo-ball round, never lived up to expectations of their parents, it flows to the child which in turn will fall, tripled, its offspring. Decade after decade, the burden becomes increasingly heavy, with a generation today that is on his shoulders the weight of grandparents and great grandparents that " they know what war means and what it means to go hungry and parents that they advertise their local struggles made of student riots and strikes of the workers.

This "generational rivalry" is I think there is something that the dawn of time and a little 'everywhere, but I am equally convinced that in reality the Veneto, once the country reaches its maximum height. If you come from this region and are no longer just in the very first coat, you will also have no doubt heard, at least once in their life, the irrepressible need to devalue the offspring and affirm your leadership with the key phrase. Yes, that. "I wing to age jumped ditches par longo " (the "I" are those "channels" of water flowing to the sides of some roads ed.).

The "jumping ditches" is exemplary of this superman dannunziano thousand resources embodied by the Venetian-type, so dutiful, good at everything and inexhaustible energy, to be able to jump from one 'end to end of a ditch, but from one bank to another. This Andrew Howe Noantri Veneto is a mythological figure, and I fear now entered the collective nightmares of people even infants, to strike terror into the same black man.

Superheroes aside, is certainly not uncommon for a young Venetian feel to certain types of speeches. Even today, news reaches me boys' bullizzati "from their friendly old men who go on to say" other than school, I was your age I was working in the fields "," there are more young people once "or" we ensure that we gave value to things . I'm certainly not here to deny that the current one is clearly a flawed and misguided youth and that this is a company devoted more and more consumerism and the god of money, but even I do not accept being told that Once everything was different and that people were so much better. Actually, I did not come to tell the story that once things did not happen and that the country people knew what were the "true values" because he kept what was good for the mind the golden rule that " Real wealth comes from the earth . Unfortunately, I could also mention the peasants from the list of persons who, during the regime, denounced the fascists the presence of hidden Jewish families in the country in exchange for cash. Or that abused women in the home. Beautiful people, right?

At the risk of falling into the usual speeches from inn, I feel I can say with confidence that the scum is now as there was at the time.

We both looked down upon the youth of today, we are not only the children of this day and age. We are also your children, and your "valuable" lessons learned. an examiner of consciousness on your part would be all well and good.

Welcome Note From Employer

Lagolindari

Gettyimages Without Matermark

Convivendo

References in songs antonacciane is purely random and definitely


E 'thanks to a dear friend and his enviable experience of study abroad that I was reminded of what it means to live with of the unknown. The status of a university student or worker out of the office assumed almost automatically divide the rent payments, utility bills and expenses, as well as the fact of fighting for the bathroom and bathrobe rounds of cleaning, with people never seen in your life.

I experienced the thrill of living with strangers in Italy and abroad and I can say that we have accumulated within a certain amount of experience. Obviously, the probability of nest
people who do not go from one extreme to the other is tending to zero. You can be sure that your roommate will be either chronic or that the casino has in store products in alphabetical order. Or the human landfill, or obsessive-compulsive cleaning. Or allergic to soap, or one who could establish their residence in Via Manzoni 1, B-scale, indoor toilets.
Be assured that the middle way, the individual has a certain amount of existential equilibrium will not find never .

Given all this to be discharged, must find a way to make a living as easy as possible. Any advice for freshmen throw it there:

• MAINTAIN A THRESHOLD OF INDEPENDENCE (put stakes or mark their territory like dogs ) . I found that, in many cases, housemates tend to split the fare, and then to have a common pantry. This is not a smart move. You find yourself arguing and fighting will come out during your cute phrases like " you've eaten more than I ", " I have consumed all the milk ", " we divided in half spending But the fruit juice you drink only you, you should give me back the money . Here, stuff like that. I always suggest to reduce the minimum required products in comune (limitarsi tipo ai detersivi), di tenere ben separate le derrate (...) alimentari (del tipo ognuno ha la sua credenza o scansia personale) e di suddividersi lo spazio anche all'interno del frigorifero. Diffidare anche del neo-coinquilino che vi invita ad approfittare tranquillamente delle sue cose . Quasi mai questa è generosità disinteressata. Se noi prendiamo del suo, lui si sentirà autorizzato ad appropriarsi del nostro senza farsi troppi scrupoli. Non metto in dubbio ci possano essere persone carine e disponibili, ma questa è una cosa che va appurata nel tempo. Studiate il nemico sul campo ;

• ELASTICITA' MENTAL . Unless the roommates engage in conduct which must necessarily be taken, I find it is intelligent to have a certain amount of mental flexibility and avoid the subject or call grumble at the slightest carelessness or stupidity. If you miss a turn the lights on, turn it off you without making a fuss. Call this order only for things of a certain weight and also for minor misconduct, but that tends to repeat over time ;

• NOT TO PUT YOUR FEET IN HEAD . Some people, in contrast, tend to overlook too many things, not to quarrel and to "quiet living. " This too is wrong. The roommate in bad faith will think you are stupid or at least easily manipulated. If necessary, do not be afraid to send him (quietly) in that country. It 'just get a little' fear of certain people;
  

• COMMON SENSE. Avoid arranging feasts without the knowledge of our roommate to keep the bathroom busy for a full day or pretend to have forgotten that it was our turn for cleaning, yes? Here, good.

conclude with a Good luck to all displaced persons in homes for students, and with one last tip: ARMED a lot of patience.

things so dear.


PS Oh, in terms of coexistence, Fique idea of the Province of Parma:

My Football Jockstrap

NEW BORN (for its time .. again)

I guess that's the end of an era musers dear .. we all say goodbye to Matt version with Peter Pan. .

SHOCK!

I feel old too ..

Nortelt7316eunblock Maillbox

Space Dementia (for its time)

Get used to the shit we are used to Mr Matthew Bellamy , but, dear musers, Once again our favorite frontman proves to be an inexhaustible source of superbubbole.

Apparently his sights on conquering space will soon realize you only need to go ahead by Sir Richard Branson should kindly host the Devonian trio aboard his Virgin Galactic spacecraft for first concert in orbit of the story (but has yet to speak with him, eh?)

The floating platforms and the dancers seem ufo no longer enough.

source NME

Fireflies Shet Music Piano Ron Pope

Scrap Happy Birthday! Happy New Year

In September she married a friend of mine, and since sent me photographs of the happy event I wanted to surprise her, so I give to ewyn and I asked to use her ability to "scrapper" for a small album.
I chose the poems, she did everything else, it's beautiful. Obviously
Privacy faces were obscured;)

Can You Masterbate With B Oil

6 January: Liberation Day 3

's finally over! With January 6 closes the triad festive (Christmas-New Year-Epiphany) of death!

Yes, because just hang out on forums and social networking (except feisbuc, kingdom of the people from the link puccioso) to realize how many people actually hate Christmas and holiday paraphernalia from the bottom of corazon. Oh well that the airwaves are populated by geeks and nerds who usually dodge, disgust or even no use mincing words, they hate any form of mass gathering, however, nerd or geek, always extreme joy to read these posts status and who are the ultimate expression of rejection-Christmas festival:


you guys are close! We understand and believe it is necessary to collect more and more followers and to do that I need to knock some point, listing the reasons why we, or at least push me to be against Christmas

• MYSTICAL sudden crisis. Why you found yourself having to do with people that is to say that yes, they celebrate Christmas because "giving importance to the religious holiday" [cit.] (Sese). This is something that awakens in bbestia because 1) during the year are anything but fearing DDio, 2) if they were really motivated by Christian fervor would give more weight to the celebration of Easter to make balls on the Christmas tree;

• THE RELATIVE-SNAKE . The question of the relative-snake is a sore point for anyone with at least one family member who behaves excrement throughout the year and at Christmas reappears at his door caught by a sudden feeling of brotherhood ;

• ATTACKS FOOD-media . The columns are filled with Tigga cooking that in a first stage give you tips for delicious lunches and dinners on Christmas, in a second phase will explain how to reuse leftover roast-Pandora-cake and a third phase you sawing legs with services on diets DIY focused on making you regain the lost line (crediamoci). Congratulations to the consistency, but especially for the correctness of the message;

• MUSICAL- ATTACKS MEDIA . The quality of the music by the media, already in itself rubbish throughout the year, suffers a frightening collapse during this period. Christmas should be a time of joy, Christmas songs, in contrast, are a sad and melancholy, nothing short of appalling. Not to mention Christmas in this fashion the individual (say, the single from Coldplay, I did not just listen to, no) and the chorus of voices that most often seem childish agony of the masses. (NB The only musical event of the Christmas-positive connotation Christmas gift of the Muses, let this be known).

I could go on for much longer, but I'd say I'll save.
conclude by saying that I have nothing, indeed, against the religious festival itself (everyone is free to believe what they want), as usual, is of course the use made of Christmas that makes the all very indigestible (and not only pandori panettone on duty).
And then, let's face it, my bastiancontrarietà leads me to be a priori against a mainstream holidays (not tell me about Valentine's Day, Women's Day and Halloween).

So, other than burning of the Epiphany, because "all parties us away." Re-evaluate this old woman who saves us every year for charity. Befana 4 President.

What Is The Standard Hallway Width

A darting year - a pomp - a tear - to waking on a morn That to find what one Waked for, inhales the different dawn.

One year lightning - a pomp - a tear - waking up one morning to discover that this why you wake up, inhale different dawn.

Emily Dickinson



pictures by kathie100


This Was in the White of the Year -
That - was in the Green -
Drifts Were as Difficult then to think
As Daisies now to be seen -

Looking back, is best That is left
Or if it be - before -
Retrospection is Prospect's half,
Sometimes, Almost more -

This was in the White Year - What
- was in Green -
The gusts were so difficult to conceive how
Daisies to be seen -

Looking back, it's the best that has been
Or if is - on - The
Retrospection is Prospect's half,
Sometimes, almost more - Emily Dickinson

Is It Ok To Crush Ice In Cuisinart

[fanfiction - Weiss Kreuz]

Title: Last Christmas
Fandom: Weiss Kreuz Pairing
: Brad Schu x
Raiting: PG
Beta: no
Disclaimer: The characters belong to their authors, I enjoy just to torture them a bit '^ _-
Note: I accidentally found this fic that I forgot to post a file along with other things and takes place a few years after this: The Shadow



It was almost Christmas, the snow had fallen to whiten the skyscrapers of New York, giving the city a magical and surreal. The people on the streets in a hurry to buy the last gifts to be able to return home to warm the atmosphere to share with your family.


At the Metropolitan Museum was doing a charity event.

Last Christmas


picture by S-tion

Dmv Learners Permit Template Ny

Last Christmas Merry Christmas (with Fred Vargas)

year to wish you a Merry Christmas I chose a detective story by Fred Vargas to address the holiday with a bit 'of irony and a shiver of mystery.

I wish you all a Merry Christmas.

The night of brutal Fred Vargas

So, if people did not fuss with Christmas, there would be less tragedies
. It is disappointed, the people, by force. This triggers
dramas.
only in the office, doodling Adamsberg,
taking a notebook resting on your thighs. He had chosen the night shift together at
Deniaut, dozing at the entrance. It was December 24,
a special evening, everyone else was out.
is preparing to celebrate the arrival on the scene of winter. Some would
lost if not for anything in the world, most were unable to escape. For Jean-Baptiste Adamsberg
was different: he feared the Christmas and
was held ready. Claus and his string of accidents. Claus and his legion of
dramas. Christmas, the ferocious night.

to be.
He rose slowly and went to put my forehead against the glass
tarnished. Outside, strings of light bulbs cast
short bursts on the bodies of the bums, frozen, holed up in the corners.
tried to calculate how much money you were pulverized so, for three weeks,
in the sky of Paris, ended without a single coin in his pocket
tramps. Christmas, the night of sharing.
He put the block and pencil, laid flat with two
a corner of the table, pulled out a bottle of wine, checked the contents of the oven and called
Deniaut.
to force people to be exasperating. The tension of the long count
down, after which must come the light-heartedness,
grinds the nerves, to the people. For five weeks old
with the white beard and the dress is red all over the walls,
jovial and full of promise. It is bomb-proof, that guy. Yet he looks like a
who has given us in for a lifetime with cheap wine.
But there's nothing to do, is steel. And apparently not even
suffer the cold. Never has a cold. He's a character
happy and blessed with the boots and clean round.
soon appears that old, the tension gradually rises.
The whole country, succubus, stiffens and prepare for the inevitable
joy.
Christmas falls on a day like everyone else. But thoughtful people everywhere
and dumb goes with the dress
again to the fulcrum of the festivities. Everyone thought to others. Each part
load of offers. Christmas, the night of the gift of great respite. At Christmas all
argue, the more sobbing, some divorced, others commit suicide
.
And a small percentage, just enough to bring down
policemen, killed. It is a day like any other, much less beautiful
others.
With his hands wrapped in two balls of newspaper Adamsberg
slowly pulled out the tray from the oven. Deniaut, distrustful,
was looking at him.
- What? - Asked.
- I do not know.
Except for three or four childhood memories, Adamsberg
was not sensitive to the culinary delights.
ate what he found, sometimes the same thing for two months straight.
recovered the package and handed it to his colleague.
- The title is written above the dinner, - he said.
- not a Christmas dinner.
- okay. It is calm.
Deniaut was a new mandate from Chambéry.
sensitive and meticulous, showed an attraction to the virtues that worried
Adamsberg. The Commissioner was concerned that not resist it. " Why
ultimately, the police is not advisable for one who hopes
feverishly in the grace of humanity.
Adamsberg split in two by pulling the baguette with his hands, and handed it
half the young lieutenant. The Commissioner of his rural childhood had kept some gestures
Spartans, however Deniaut
did not like the smashed bread. He took it, but a little 'uncomfortable.
The two ate in silence for some minutes.
- Of course people are on the verge of a nervous breakdown, "said
Adamsberg. - Six weeks of stress because they give the
best, condemning them to succeed, who brutalizes them
in view of the big night. Of course not resist. Collapse, are
disappointed.
Deniaut shook his head, uncertain.
had once believed in Christmas.
Adamsberg uncorked the bottle di vino, ne offrì senza sperarci
al collega. Deniaut non beveva.
- E tu? – riprese. – Non hai famiglia? Non festeggi?
Deniaut strinse le labbra.
- Ho rotto con tutti.
- Ah, – disse Adamsberg.
- Anche lei? – domandò Deniaut.
Adamsberg scosse il capo.
- No. Vivono sulla montagna, laggiù, – disse indicando la finestra
in direzione dei Pirenei. – Mi scrivono dei biglietti. Ieri una
delle mie sorelle mi ha mandato una specie di animale di pezza
lungo quattro centimetri. Non so che pensare.
Adamsberg posò la forchetta, frugò nella tasca interna della
sua vecchia giacca nera e tirò fuori una palla grigia
as big as a tangerine. Showed it to my colleague, then slowly
put on the table between them.
- What? It is a hippopotamus?
- I would not be so sure. A mule, perhaps?
- I have to inquire why, with my sister, there is always a hidden symbol
. It is a big pain in the ass.
The two policemen emptied his plate in silence, Deniaut
tip-fork, Adamsberg with large pieces of bread.
The fat woman flew above the parapet of the bridge to the National
black water of the Seine. The river was fast,
driven by an icy wind. Nobody on the street, anyone who was there to see
. Bar closed, taxis are absent, deserted city. Christmas is a celebration
domestic interior. Does not filter out anything. Even the solitary ir -
reducible gather in a tavern with two bottles and four idiots.
Solitude, vagrancy, bearable and sometimes even
flaunted defiantly in the rest of the year, seem to
shot a shameful disgrace. Christmas casts shame on who is the only
. so, before midnight everyone is holed up. The fat woman
flew into the water without anyone disengaged herself.
four o'clock in the morning Adamsberg
is away from his table to drink a coffee. From ten in the evening they had managed only six calls in
their field. Two men and a woman were
been hospitalized as a result of divorce proceedings initiated
during the dinner. Two other guys ended the night at the police:
such a doped up to the red wine that he had wanted at all costs
out of a window on the fourth floor to pick up a
"breath of fresh air," and a baker, dazed by a mixture rhumsonnifero,
who had decided to take out the next-door neighbor for disturbing the peace
night. The two were immobilized
without too much resistance and now sleeping in his cell in the heart of
police station.
A third man, a type English very chic, very good
drunk whiskey was picked up across a sidewalk
elegantly asleep, with his hands behind his neck and
, placed carefully beside him, his glasses, the card
of public transport and shoes. He had been slapped in the
cell with two others, but remained stubbornly standing by requiring two hours
a crutch in order to hang the dress as it should.
The cell was washed with the hose, and the benches of concrete,
floor, white tiled walls of dripping water.
hygienic measures and coercive Lieutenant Brousse,
a woman who knew his business, had applied without worries of mind
at nine in the evening. Move your coffee, Adamsberg saw that the guy stoned
of red wine he awoke. She handed him the glass
between the bars.
- Drink.
The guy nodded and swallowed a mouthful,
noisily cleared his throat.
- Apparently, I wanted to go out the window? - Asked.
Adamsberg year.
- Apparently, we were not on the ground floor, in Issoudun?
- In Paris, on the fourth floor.
- Yes, they say. And maybe it's true. I wonder what the hell they put in
wine. You know, you, what the hell they put in
wine?
- Wine.
- Oh yeah? That's something, well known.
- Drink - Adamsberg repeated.
- I would like a crutch, Commissioner - the man intervened
drunk whiskey.
He was a tall and handsome, in his forties, with a face Roman
temples gray, elegant, staggering, dignified and very drunk.
- There is a hook on the wall - Adamsberg said.
- Pinch collar.
- It's a big problem?
- not a big problem. Deforms the collar.
- lie down - Adamsberg advised. - Dorma. Shut up.
not break with his crutch.
- The benches dripping with water.
- So I recommend to keep the jacket.
- will ruin the fabric.
- Have you seen my jacket? It is a disaster in itself. Be ',
twenty years we are alive inside.
- I've seen. But she is a cop, I do not.
- Dancer's room? - Adamsberg asked after a moment of silence
. - Professor of grammar?
- the perfectionist that I am flattered and punish the vices of this land.
Spio curves and reverse the architecture of this world,
here and in heaven.
- I would say that she is above all drunk.
- I would like a crutch.
- We have no crutches.
Deniaut Adamsberg reached before the coffee machine.
- Maybe tonight there will be no more, - he said. -
little movement, all things considered.
- We'll quiet only three or four days, - answered
Adamsberg. - On Christmas Eve there is no one who notices the corpses,
know? Emerge only later. All must have disposed of the
drunk. It takes a little 'time. Who misses the window, who
wrong door, bed, sidewalk, a woman who looks for his coat,
her man, his crutch, his hippopotamus.
have to wait a bit '.
River, mighty, swollen from all the rains of autumn,
carried in its depths the bulk
woman's body during the nights of 24th and December 25th, brought him back to the surface at night and at dawn of 26
27 left him under the narrow bridge dell'Archevèché,
left bank.
Adamsberg received the call in the morning, almost nine.
It was barely light.
Commissioner, with phone in hand, hesitated to warn the lieutenant
Danglard. That was inefficient, in the morning, and sensitive to
violence. Adamsberg slowly hung up the receiver.
would not have broken the boxes Danglard. The body floated
was certainly a bad show. The woman was dead
more than two days before, during Christmas night. This was almost certain.
Adamsberg Deniaut brought with him. After all, was with him
that began on Christmas Eve.
- I told you? - Adamsberg said, his hands on the steering wheel
. - We should wait.
- It is said to have died on the 24th.
- But yes, Deniaut. Thus, Christmas, the revelry of desires.
bans are shattered, barriers break down. Some will give
a hippo, while others buy the skin of a woman.
Deniaut shrugged.
- Yes, - quietly resumed Adamsberg. - You'll see.
parked the car on the sidewalk, raised strips of red and white plastic
that barred access to the quai de Montebello
and descended the flight of steps down to the River. Deniaut followed with caution
on the dirty scale. Deniaut was a manic cleaning, a
terrified of germs and, when he joined the police force,
four years before and prayed that nobody would notice.
He put his gloves and pulled the scarf over his nose. The air was damp, the wind chill. In front of him
Adamsberg, unarmed, bareheaded, his jacket unbuttoned and
collar unbuttoned, walked with calm and regular pace. That guy had never
cold, like Santa Claus.
Adamsberg stood near the body, shook a little 'hands.
Two agents, the coroner, that of science. Deniaut recognized
Vacher, the fearless photographer, rummaging in the depths of
snout with the horrors of his telephone, without making a
fold. Often called him in difficult situations. Deniaut
stayed behind with his nose in a scarf, wind.
- favor two or three days, - said the coroner.
- The death that would place the night of 24 and 25.
Adamsberg glanced quickly at Deniaut. That he put
with a nod. Yes, you know, Christmas night, the night
brutal. Adamsberg was. He knew things before anyone
others had warned. It was enough to get used to everything here, he said
Danglard down a beer.
- you will confirm it tomorrow - continued your doctor.
- do you think?
- banal suicide.
- Never seen.
- The corpse?
- No. I've never seen banal suicide.
The medical examiner shrugged.
- She died of drowning - continued. - I'll confirm it.
-Age?
- The fifties, sixties. It was thrown from a bridge. He
bruises, probably slammed against the masts.
I mean who has not thrown from the shore. It comes from upstream, the river has dragged
.
- You can move it? - Asked Adamsberg
to those of science.
- We have finished the turn.
Adamsberg slipped a pair of gloves, turned his body with the help of a
technicians. They passed a grimace on his face, the twinkling of an eye
.
In silence, the two felt about the clothes.
The woman wore a blue dress and a fur Anonymous. In his pocket, keys, purses,
any documents. No wedding ring, gaudy jewelry, a gold wrist watch
.
- not an evening gown, - said Deniaut. - Maybe it was the
24?
- It was 24, - Adamsberg said getting up.
- missing a shoe.
- I've seen, old man.
- It's in the water.
- Dredge area. Deniaut, you up the river and control the
right bank. Call for Danglard do the same on the left.
I take care of the bridges. May have fallen from the bridge of Tolbiac, National
from the bridge or even further from that of Charenton. We
a purse, let us proof of identity, we
who he is. And we look for the shoe, like Cinderella.
- For Cinderella was the opposite - intervened with Deniaut
discretion. - They had tried the shoe but the women.
- OK, - said Adamsberg.
Deniaut was not only virtuous, but conscientious.
not bear the approximation, while Adamsberg approximation
lived.
- The shoe can be got stuck higher up,
Deniaut-shoot.
- certainly not dredge up the Seine to the Mount Gerbier-de-
Jonc - Adamsberg said. - Dragons under this bridge.
The doctor lifted the curtains, put the body on a stretcher, covered him with
a sheet of plastic. Adamsberg
had moved away and gave instructions to the phone in a slow voice. Then he shoved the phone in my jacket
, feel under the fingers of his sister and the hippopotamus
looked up toward the bridge.
- will be hard, prepared, - said to Deniaut. - Very hard. Perhaps
not find anything.
- I do not understand.
- The murder - Adamsberg said opening his arms. - You
murder, pure and simple. It is the hardest material to work with, resist
like a stone.
- A murder?
- But the shoe, Deniaut cabbage.
- We said that the shoe was on the Seine.
- You said, - Adamsberg said, shaking his head. - The
body is inflated, the other shoe is firmly stuck in the foot.
What we seek is not in the Seine. She fell while
threw down the murderer's collection.
- There is no evidence - Deniaut said softly.
- No, there is no evidence. Too bad the other shoe
not want to say anything. Can you imagine, Deniaut if was that? What not to
people would know? Almost everything, really. Perhaps the thought
us down in the feet. Jean-Baptiste Adamsberg
slowly surveyed his fifth
bridge to Bercy, when he received the call from the office
missing persons. He began taking cover behind the railing and
covered his right ear with a finger.
- Speak up!
- Annie Rochelle, - shouted the policeman. - They have denounced the disappearance
this morning, at eight-thirty.
- Who made the complaint?
- Her neighbor, a friend. They had to be seen last night to finish the leftovers
Christmas. There is no way. From the description, it could
match. Three hours later reached
Adamsberg Deniaut and Danglard
in a bar in the rue de Vouillé, opposite the residence of the deceased.
The woman had been identified. Annie Rochelle, fifty-six,
unmarried, born in Lille.
- What else do we know?
- She grew up near Lille, in a small village. Twenty years
found work in Paris as a waitress. Ten years ago her brother
gave a hand and bought the Hotel de la Garde,
little far from here, thirty-two rooms. The brother is not going well.
- Living in Paris?
- Yes, you do not have other relatives.
- The Handbag? The shoe?
- Nothing.
- At this hour, - Danglard said, - the shoe is coming to
Rouen.
Adamsberg shook his head in silence.
- As we speak, - Deniaut intervened in halting,
- the Seine is not born from Mount Gerbier-de-Jonc.
Adamsberg looked at the lieutenant, puzzled.
- What comes from Mount Gerbier-de-Jonc?
- The Loire - Deniaut replied shyly.
- Yes, Danglard? The Loire?
Danglard year.
- The Seine - Deniaut shots almost in a whisper -
born on the plateau of Langres.
- Never heard of it. You know this plateau of Langres, Danglard?
- Yes - confirmed Danglard.
Adamsberg nodded, thoughtfully.
- However, - times, - the victim was not from the plateau of Langres
nor from Mount Gerbier-de-Jonc. He came from rue de
Vouillé. Finish the beer, Danglard, so we can go to his house
.
- Behind us, - said with a nod of Danglard thumb. -
and brother. Back to the morgue.
- Shaken?
- so it seems.
- could be seen often?
- Once or twice a week.
- Tell me about him.
Danglard fumbled inside the jacket, pulled out a piece of paper.
- Her name is Rochelle Germain, was raised in that town,
near Lille. He has sixty-three, a bachelor. As his sister,
say, but the masculine. But he has his way. Import-export
in the field of canned vegetables, large factory in Lille, big
assets, moving to Switzerland and back ten years ago.
sold the company, made his property, has retired and lives in Paris
annuity.
- comfortably?
- Very. He was to return to France he bought for his sister
that hotel.
- Why not before?
- The sister lived with a man who hated him. A scoundrel,
says. They have not seen for twenty years, until she left him.
- The name of the guy?
- Guy Verdillon. It was the receptionist Annie
where he worked in the hotel.
- what did you on the evening of 24?
- had dinner with his brother in a nice restaurant in the rue de l'Opéra
. We cartload of witnesses. He has taken back
and left her on the street corner around midnight.
Adamsberg glanced to his brother. He was a burly
with short arms, wrapped in a thick gray coat, his head bent toward
hands. The search of the apartment
Annie Rochelle
began about five o'clock in the evening, slow and monotonous. We seek
purse, said Adamsberg. Had detached from the wall of a large lounge
frame with a mosaic of images of childhood.
Schools, communions, birthdays, parents, first car,
sea bathing. Germain Rochelle, sitting heavily on a chair
velvet, watched them. Adamsberg placed on the ground the great
frame.
- No indiscretion, - he said. - I need to get an idea
whole.
- It is not a set - Rochelle said. - They are my parents.
The police left the building an hour later, without her purse.
Adamsberg had under his arm a large frame with photographs
childhood. Rochelle followed, hunched.
- We need to understand? - Asked Danglard
indicating the frame with a nod of her chin.
- I do not know, - said Adamsberg. - This thing I really like. Rochelle
carry with me for the minutes. Go to the hotel, you ask
all staff and, above all, find me that damn purse.
Danglard returned to the police at the end of the evening, after recording the testimonies of the eleven employees
Hotel de la Garde
. Deniaut was past eight o'clock. Since no bridge, no bank
had jumped out of even the shadow of a shoe.
- It is with the murderess, - said Adamsberg.
- Who? - Asked Danglard.
- The shoe.
Danglard shook his head, sat down, his shoulders sagged springs.
- The woman killed herself, - she said. - Employees have confirmed the testimony of his brother
: Annie
Rochelle was on a slippery slope. Since last autumn, melancholy, silence, sudden jerky
, insomnia and mood swings.
- With this reasoning, everyone would be in the Seine.
The shoe is the murderess. And the handbag.
- The hotel manager says that Annie Rochelle
wanted to return to his childhood village, near Lille. It is not a sign,
this? He wanted to review ...
Danglard paused, consulted his notes.
- ... "the black house where he grew up with his brother. "
is not a story to jump into the water, this? The black house in North
?
leaned back the sheets on the table, opened a beer.
- has thrown down with her purse, - he said. - The Purse
the shoe together. At this time have left Rouen.
head towards Le Havre.
- Do not be thrown away with the handbag, Danglard. It leaves a trace of self
. A letter on a table, a purse on a bridge,
an imprint of his existence. And the damn purse
is not anywhere. If the seal is the killer.
- Why?
- To search within. Destroying documents,
avoid breaking balls.
- I'd really like a crutch, - said
suddenly a deep voice and calm.
Danglard turned suddenly into the cell.
- is back, what?
- Yes - Adamsberg said with a sigh. - At eleven.
had collapsed at the wheel of his car, stone dead.
had wanted to take a little time between a night and the next. Would you like a crutch.
- Always the damn collar, eh?
- Always.
Adamsberg walked slowly to the cell.
- I forgot his name.
- Charles. Charles Sancourt.
- Charles. Drink a bit 'of water. Lie down. Dorma.
- Prima la stampella.
- Charles. Ho un omicidio sul gobbo. Un omicidio di Natale,
la notte primordiale. Una faccenda schifosissima, ben più schifosa
di un colletto deformato. Quindi non mi rompa. Dorma. Chiuda
il becco.
Charles rivolse al commissario un doloroso sguardo da imperatore
romano deluso dalla sua guardia pretoria.
- Eppure lei aveva gli occhi di un uomo capace di comprendere
che la salvaguardia delle quisquilie getta le basi per il fiorire
delle grandi cose. Fra l’insignificante e il grandioso non c’è nemmeno
la distanza di un’unghia.
- Dorma, Charles.
Adamsberg tornò al tavolo dove Danglard annotava i rapporti
degli interrogation of the day.
- He knew how to swim? - Asked.
- It does not matter - Danglard said. - The Seine
is so cold that there is no escape. However, it was enough fur to make
sinking.
- Exactly.
- She killed herself. At Christmas, they all kill, and some they perform.
Adamsberg grabbed his notebook and scribbled a few minutes
in silence.
- When one wants to throw himself into the Seine, Danglard, not
tosses it over a pylon. Throws herself into a pylon and another.
not jumped down, absolutely.
Danglard bit her lip. He had forgotten the affair
bruises. Imagined standing in the night on the parapet above the river
. It would be put between two piers, of course.
Adamsberg looked and nodded.
- The murderess knew, - continued the Commissioner. - It's
a man. It takes strength to stun and fling overboard
a fat woman as Annie. Pushing the feet, the
remained in the hands of the shoe. He's still in my purse and cut the rope
.
- Why did not throw the shoe in the water? Ah.
Adamsberg designed for a few moments.
- Because the shoe was damaged during the melee -
shooting in a low voice. - Traces of struggle, maybe. The murderess
did not want to risk it.
Danglard, with outstretched necks, he finished drinking his beer barrel.
- That woman did not bother anybody - said supporting
the bottle. - Her brother held her. The hotel was not
loved nor hated.
- He had the money.
- They go to his brother. He has twenty times more money than Annie.
Adamsberg sighed, grabbed his big frame that had supported
the ground and examined it in silence.
- I have to pee, - said the deep voice of man in the cell.
- There's a hole at bottom - Danglard said. - Behind the wall.
- I do not want to piss that hole, - said Charles Sancourt.
- I want to piss in the bathroom. And if possible, I would like me to
procuraste a crutch.
Danglard got up, stretched, and stopped him with a Adamsberg
look. He put the frame on the table and went to open the door of the cell
.
- accompany him, Danglard, - he said.
The man came out of the cell with the aristocratic and uncertain gait and followed
Danglard head on. Adamsberg three went to get coffee,
that brought back at a slow pace. From the doorway of his office
saw that Charles was waiting for him, stretching his arms, sitting on the chair
of his colleague.
Adamsberg put the coffee table and turned against the frame with
images.
- Where Danglard? - Asked.
- Piscia beer, - said Charles.
With one hand, Adamsberg drove the man in the cell, shut the
lock and handed him the coffee.
- Stazionerò here long? - Asked Charles.
- Until you go back sober.
- I can go elsewhere sober.
- not when one wants to drive. How it works.
- So happy to accept a crutch.
- Fuck.
- I know. You have a murder on the teleprompter. Patience, I'll sleep in
feet as the horses.
And Charles closed his eyes, straight as a statue.
Adamsberg groom carefully record the interrogation.
Danglard fell asleep.
hour after the commissioner shook his deputy.
- A lover? - Asked. - They have spoken of a lover?
- No. Only that guy, the receptionist who has disappeared.
- We need to find that guy.
- No longer in France. We can put the months to locate him.
- reconvene the brother tomorrow. Can you talk about him.
- He's already done.
- Is there anything that does not say. I am sure, Danglard. That
that's on the ass on a lie.
- Bravo - suddenly said Charles.
Adamsberg turned to the cell where the man, standing, the
watched with folded arms.
- Are you still awake? With everything you have in your body?
- The question of occupation, resistance, to each his specialty.
- threw him out - he said suddenly Danglard. -
drunk or not. Do not stand it anymore, that dandy.
- Bravo in what sense? - Asked Adamsberg.
- The brother's mind, - said Charles.
Adamsberg put a hand on the shoulder of Danglard
to do sit and approached the cell.
- Before the crutch - Charles said, holding out a hand through the bars well
stops. - Then the truth.
- Caution - Danglard said. - Tomorrow
tell everything to the press and she will make the figure of the fool.
- I often - Adamsberg said.
- Before the crutch - Charles repeated, with hand outstretched
.
- Go get your wardrobe, - said Adamsberg
Danglard watching. - Take your big wooden crutch.
Furious, Danglard noisily left the room, returning
two minutes later with a crutch, who laid on the table.
Adamsberg took it and deposited it in the outstretched hand. Charles
took off his jacket, pants, all neatly folded and hung on the hook
the crutch. Then, in white shirt and pants, sat on
wet bench and nodded to Adamsberg.
- Come in, sir. And I bring that frame with the photographs.
I apologize if the bench is wet, here are
unscrupulous agents who have too much to heart the comfort of prisoners.
Adamsberg Charles sat down and took his large frame.
- Here, - said supporting the index on a photograph - here
brother, about eleven years, posing on a lawn with a few companions
first communion. We agree?
Adamsberg nodded.
- And here, - said Charles moving the finger - there's a bird in the sky
passes.
Charles leaned back on the ground the frame.
- You a photograph by a professional - he went on. - The bird
seen distinctly, a Ring Ouzel, Turdus torquatus alpestris.
Male, recognizable by the white crescent on the chest.
- Ah, - Adamsberg said flatly. - I believe you for sure.
- Trust.
- Come on, old chap, - said Adamsberg. - Continue. I
crutch Did I date.
- This subspecies occurs only in the south-eastern France.
is not never been spotted north of the Loire. The photograph was not taken
in Lille. That man grew up in Lille, mind.
Adamsberg was several seconds in silence, without moving,
with his arms on his belly, your legs straight, buttocks frozen moisture
the bench.
- It seems that his brother is his brother, eh? - He said.
- but he wanted to believe it, - said Charles. -
This frame is only a frame, a trick.
Danglard also entered the cell with another beer, and sat on the bench opposite
.
- Where would the brother? - Asked. - In Switzerland?
Adamsberg times the frame, close look at the boy's face
.
- Dead - Adamsberg said. - This guy is the lover, the employee
the reception. She and he got rid of
brother ten years ago, they took their name and money. They bought the property.
Charles nodded.
- What do you think of this system of wet benches? - Asked to
Danglard.
- I think they will freeze your ass. System by police.
- Not very friendly, eh?
- discomfort and humiliation - Danglard said. - This is the idea of
bottom of the cell for drunks. More disgusting is the idea, and more
last long. She is a journalist?
- Ornithologist.
- Obvious - Adamsberg said.
Commissioner slowly rose, wiped his hands on his pants
cold. Recovered the frame, examined the tiny white crescent
that adorned the chest of the bird in flight.
- The trifle - she said - behind the big catch dell'inghippo.
- Yes, - said Charles. They arrested Germain
Rochelle, that Guy Verdillon at dawn.
collapsed at eleven-ten, under the watchful eye of Charles Sancourt
that, his hands clutching the bars, always in shirt and pants
, had acquired the automatic right to attend the interrogation.
motive for the murder of Annie Rochelle? Lite, money and blackmail,
Verdillon but would never admit it. The man clung fiercely
to one version: he threw water in his
accomplice broke because the balls. A Danglard
that topic seemed weak. No, said Adamsberg.
for a night of Christmas, there was nothing surprising.
Christmas, the primordial night. About one
Charles left the police station, with the collar
impeccable and buttocks wet.
- We forgot to give him his crutch -
Adamsberg said. The
broke away from the wall and reached by steps vaguely
fast man with the white shirt that was heading down the road.
- It is not his crutch - Danglard objected to the form. He knew
exactly what would have responded Adamsberg.
He replied: "Yes that is his crutch."
Adamsberg upset was his job. A small craft, of course. But the catch of the insignificant
behind the big catch dell'inghippo.
Something like that. And that, he knew from Danglard
time.

Regen Hair Vitalizer Review

necchan

See you around to celebrate kaiten; )

Follando A Una Niña

entered Trentino Veneto rocking

With difficulty I start to post in this blog using the opportunity to talk about a dated event, a concert which I attended back in September, but at least something of which I mention because it allows me to quibble report Trentino / Music .

I state that I started to come into contact with the reality of Trent in 2005 when I got laid for study. The first discoveries (hot water) made on the ground in thirty, were as follows:

1. not, historically we have not only the Council of Trent;
2. no, it does so very cold. Indeed there is a hot African summer;
   
3. ggiovane the population is super-rock ("because here we grow on bread and AC / DC" [cit.])
   

This revelation made me happy as a young woman myself, for disaster, arrogant comes from the industrial area where the Venetian ggente listen to commercial music "because you can dance in ddiscoteca.
E 'for That's why I was very happy when I heard that a horde of Trentino would trot this side of the Austrian-Hungarian border to create a bit 'of turmoil. The trentinacci in question were The Bastard Sons of Dionysus (aka Michael, Frederick, Jacob), the trio brought to the fore by Mara in the second edition of Maionchi ics factor. I did not see the three live since April 2009 when, in an upset by Trent Flood, they performed two songs put the cross on the concert ics factor for the earthquake victims of Abruzzo. What became clear to me is what you want today second television image: none gigioneria (cited) icsfactoriana in setlist, but whole song made in Dionisioland almost completely extracted from "In Stasi Perpetua" (the trio's last recording effort), interspersed with acoustic cover of Crosby Still Nash and Young ("Suite Judy Blue Eyes "), Beatles (" Here Comes the Sun ") and Tenacious D (" History "," Jesus Ranch ") placed there in order to rest the eardrum of the listener Dionysian crash tested by the Venetian.



Although this line of hard rock (?) not exactly my daily bread, I must say that I appreciated, because we are definitely ahead of the excellent musicians, Frederick and Michele are two interesting and recognizable voices and the three together and convey the idea of cojonaggine rurality "in a band that never hurts.

At this point, I would like to add something about Vetrozero , the opening band (also thirty), which is a "genre" says closer to what I like. Vetrozero I am a newcomer band (their first album released in November I think) that has become known this year in that of S. Giuliano Park, participating in the contest Heineken Jammin Festival. The band has entertained us for about half an hour and created a beautiful engagement whereas at the end of the performance we ended up in coarse pieces of songs at random.
Worthy of attention are, however, I find the lyrics. Here I include a live performance of the song that I preferred, " Grisou .



... Belli born beautiful
died
us losses, losses, losses ...

... cut ties with people I do not make better
Cutting ties with those who does not bring me flowers
with those who live for the world outside ...

Vetrozero sti's listen, let the street reports "harmful" to which we attach no one knows why, off-off-trodden path to the human dignity of others, friends, lovers, companions, escorts and the like which do not give a Cippalippa us, but living for the world outside "(a reference to facts relating to me is purely coincidental).
Thanks for the opportunity for reflection Vetrozero.

Saree Blouse Forwedding

Happy Birthday Happy Birthday nuvolanera

Monologues Alice Wondeland

The reasons behind the victory of the 2006 World

Ladies and gentlemen at a distance of years here is a document which shows how, even those who allowed Italy to win the World Cup in 2006. More proof that pride , teamwork and technical expertise .. only merit is its :


So a heartfelt thanks goes to Mr. Noel Gallagher that, for the national team and for the good of the Italian people, refused to change their underwear.

thanks of course goes to Mrs. Sonia Amoruso in Del Piero who sacrificed himself to control sacrificial lamb dressed British (and isha00 for me I'm past-video gem).

Arbor Longboards Canada

[Original - Poker Aces] In The Desert

AUTHOR: taurie_2020 (Peter was obviously written by dhely )
TITLE: In The Desert
NOTE: The characters in these stories are original: Juan Von Schonborn is mine, Peter von Rosenstadt is dhely (I apologize for the misuse of Rhys Harrington ewyn and Hernan de Massaredo of indra_pavamana )
THANKS: a dhely that helped me to "give placed a "
LINK: Sahara fic prologue dhely



Juan opens one eye, is lying on its side, Peter is sleeping a bit 'away, on the stomach , his head buried in the pillow, makes a deep breath, shake, just as if he could not breathe, turned on its side. Juan sees that
asleep, because it covers not take cold and stood up.

Twenty minutes later it is still under hot water, his hands resting against the wall tile color of lapis lazuli, their heads bowed.

He had slept fourteen hours later

Homemade Sausage Smoker

alles_aus_liebe

Flaming Hot Cheetos Mouth Ulcers

Mushroom gallery

Against this blog seems to have a relationship mycological: reappear like mushrooms every time it rains. It rained a lot in recent times. As a result crops up as a pig in the undergrowth.



The truth is that I wanted this blog to remain something rather impersonal and did not want to throw in too much of me because by nature I am a person who likes a little exposure. E 'is equally true that if I threw in, this blog has no reason to exist. I need to throw in myself, I need to rework what happens to me. I also need to have a full stop because my existence at the time sailing in the sea inconstancy.

do not want this blog only exists when it rains. I do not want to be a fungus. Want to be an evergreen. I want my leaves are green, whatever the season.

What The Name Of My Webcam

Halloween Happy Birthday Greetings