Rhino 5 Ratchet And Clank Time

The departure of Pilate to Saul.

Commentando il mio romanzo "La verità ci rende liberi" che ha come protagonista Pilato un internauta mi ha consigliato la lettura del Maestro e Margherita di Bulgakov. Il suggerimento è intelligente, e lo ringrazio, but before I had to point to insert a copied page from Bulgakov's novel in my (denouncing the fact in the notes). Carry him to the song of the novel, inviting him to find out where the quote begins and ends with Bulgakov.
From "The truth sets us free" cap. 23 - Farewell to Pilate.

But if Pilate had convened an emergency Saul before he left, he had not done to discuss how the new disciple was going to set the spread of the Gospel. Before leaving for the last time he wanted to try to understand the essence of that message, try to give an answer to the question he had set in mind that sad night, "What is the truth. "He had come reluctantly to Palestine. He considered the job a form of punishment, if not condemnation. He had lived through those years of hoping and waiting for a new job, and now that the appointment had arrived, he was sorry for having partire.Alle times almost turning into desert, the dress gets caught in the bushes, having to continue, as the tears and at that piece of clothing is as if it remained something of us. That unanswered question was like a piece of himself, remained in the desert of Palestine. Even if it were done to rule among the snows of Britain, the question remained entangled among the thorns of Palestine, he pursued until his death. Unless you were failed to have any risposta.Prima arrival of Saul there was a storm, but now the sun had returned to Jerusalem, and before going to drown in the Mediterranean sent farewell rays to the city hated by the governor and gilded the steps entrance of the building. The fountain of the courtyard was fully recovered and sang in full voice, the pigeons were returned to the courtyard on the sand, cooing, jumped the broken branches from the fury of the storm, pecking at something in the wet sand. On the table prepared under the cool of the porch, smoking a meat dish. "But what can I say that you have not already said?" Saul said, approaching the table together to Pilate. "Nothing until will you sit and get drunk a little 'wine,' Pilate responded politely, lying down, and pointed to the other bed. Saul lay down, and a servant poured some thick red wine. Another servant, leaning gently on the shoulder of Pilate, the governor filled the cup. Then they walked away with two servants gesto.Mentre Saul ate and drank, Pilate, sipping wine, looking at him through half-closed eyelids. He wanted to enter his mind, understand what it really meant when he spoke of having been refused illuminato.Saulo not even a second cup of wine, swallowed with evident satisfaction a couple of oysters tasted the boiled vegetables, ate a piece of meat. Eat well, praised the wine: "Very good variety, the governor, but is not Falerno?" Cecubo than thirty years, "said affable Pilato.Saulo put a hand on his heart, refused to eat another, claimed to be satisfied. Then Pilate filled his own bowl, the guest did the same. Both brought down a bit 'of wine in the tray and the prosecutor said aloud, lifting the cup: "For us, for you, Caesar, father of the Romans, the most expensive and most good men!" After these words the emptied cup and the African slaves removed the dishes from the table leaving the fruit and jugs. Again, the prosecutor withdrew them with a gesture, and was only with the His host in the porch of the building. Only then Saul noted that the table was a third cup. "Who is it?" Curious asked, figuring that would get someone else. "To no one," Pilate answered seriously. "And 'this cup why did I call. Do not you had never spoken. But perhaps it is no coincidence that it is here ... Perhaps the truth is like a mosaic made up of many platelets itself insignificant, but which form a reconstructed figure. Peter gave it to me one of the followers of Yeshua, who was arrested with him on that famous night. I saw that he wanted, but just to save that night I had handed her mother. He told me that was the cup in which Jeshù aveva bevuto la sera prima, accompagnando il gesto con delle parole misteriose.”
[1] La scena è una citazione-copia dal Maestro e Margherita di Bulgakov

Naturism Family Clips

The end of the meat. The

Continuano a dirmi che le storie che scrivo sui Celti in Carnia me le sto inventando. Giuro che non è vero, che parto sempre da qualche documento. Ma nessuno mi crede. Non ho quindi grandi speranze che mi si presti fede su questo importante ritrovamento che ho fatto in una vecchia casa di Formeaso, o per l’esattezza in un rustico adiacente. Il proprietario aveva incaricato una Ditta di provvedere a rifondare l’edificio. Gli operai scavando nello basement, just by chance managed to avoid a serious accident at work. Suddenly a piece of the floor had collapsed, bringing to light the existence of another basement. Past the fear of the risk to avoid getting below, the workers are in urgent impresario. They thought that they should go in and see, if only because you had to think of a variation to address the unexpected. It did fall personally. "It 's just a small cave," he said from there. "It can be filled with a concrete mixer and the problem is solved now, without even bothering the engineer project manager." In the evening he felt the thing the owner, explaining how he had been effective in solving the unexpected ... "imagine if he had known the Superintendent! .." However I checked, before filling, if there was something in the cave, but I only found this rusty vessel that I have recovered anyway. "
My friend had found it in his hands like a small bucket with the lid closed. He wanted to inveigh against the impresario who made the stupid decision without informing him. But if the cave had been filled with concrete there was nothing to do. Not without difficulty managed to open the bucket and found himself in his hands a roll of parchment. When called me to see the exhibit I told him that he should deliver it to the Superintendent. I agreed with him but that would burst a casino. "Something to go to jail for a stupid manager! ..."
I left the parchment for a few days and managed to write down in full. It was written in Latin and there was talk of the final conquest of the Valley But by the Romans and the Celts' final submission to the power of Rome. It 's true that I did the Latin teacher, and then I might have to translate it literally, but I've always liked free translations where the translator interprets the text, putting something of his own, and I also freely reinterpreted Formeaso of the parchment. I do not have sufficient expertise to determine dated back to that era, but I swear it was written at the time that he says, and then to the second century AD.
tale of how the meat were then subjected to the power of Rome. So the headline in the scroll, and it soon becomes clear that it is part of a story, done by a Carnian that can not recognize the end of the autonomy of meat, but that means almost pass as a decision of the meat, rather than the result a military defeat. From the way things have gone, at least in his account, I do not have a point.
It 's true that the triumph for the victory over the Gallo-meat had celebrated the console Emilio Scauro in BC It 's true that already from those times But the valley was occupied by the Romans who had been an outpost of their Zuglio Formeaso and to guard the road leading to the pass of Monte Croce. But it is also true that the conquest was limited to the valley and the mountains of Carnia continued to live undisturbed meat. It seems established fact that the two people for several centuries had established a sort of peaceful coexistence.
There was a period in which the meat was then divided into two parts: the Roman Carnia free in the valley and the mountains of the Celts. Looking for two systems of roads, a Roman in the valley, and a share in Celtic. It 'was obviously the most important period for the history of Carnia, one in which, as in a crucible have merged two cultures, the Celtic and Roman, to give life to a civilization and a new culture, totally original, derived from the crossing and the slow merger between the two previous culture so very different.
But when in the first half of the fourteenth century, Constantine decided to create a new glue for the empire by making Christianity a state religion, the question was to unite under one God of all peoples of the territories of the Roman Empire. Even then put into meat-conquer the problem of converting meat to the mountains continued to worship Belen.
In 370 the emperor Valentinian who had devoted himself energetically to the arrangement of boundaries, ways of enhancing the connection with the Norian, decided to intervene on the one hand by improving the road network in the valley But the other subduing the whole territory. The choice to improve the road system remains on track to Monte Croce Carnico a plaque which recalls the interventions made by the editor in 373 Apin program and had opened new stretches of road. The choice to proceed to the final conquest acknowledges our parchment, which is confirmed by the official story of the Emperor Valens (364-375) who died of a stroke Nov. 18 at 375 Brigezio (Szony Hungary) while he was busy defending by Quadi iconfini Eastern Empire ..
In August the same year of his death date from the events narrated in the parchment. Passing through the valley with the army to go to Hungary had decided to spend some days in Julium Carnicum to make an expedition to the mountains and get the final submission of the meat. Were really the days when celebrating the feast of meat Lugnasad. As it says in the book "The Celts return", the meat they used to party together in a different location each year. That year the festival was to take place in the valley of Ciaroj.
Valentinian camped with his legions to Julium Carnicum and decided to take advantage of the fact that for the Midsummer party leaders would gather all in the valley opposite. He would have been easy for them to capture prisoners and finally defeated the Carnia. Pending
also gave his legionaries to give himself the freedom to parties in honor of Bacchus. A
Julium Carnicum Bacchus was celebrated with wine, which the Roman troops had to follow in the valley of Cjaroi Beleno is celebrating with an endless variety of mead!
The Celts began the festivities as early as Friday, the day dedicated to religion and culture and to go in the evening as Celtic music in every village in the valley, from prominent places in the valley we placed the "cidules" burning accompanied by verses in honor of Belen . On Saturday the festival
and swept the valley was full of sounds and colors. On the night in all countries, but also in houses scattered up and up in the mountain pastures, the bonfires were lit on fire the beacons that were built with bundles also amazed at the time Caesar.
Sunday, according to tradition came down all at Arta to purify the water source Pudia. It was then that the army moved Valentinian Julium Carnicum Arta.
Practically there was no confrontation. The legionnaires were mixed with the Celts, the leaders of the Celts met with the emperor and took note that there could be two Carnie one of the valley and one of the mountains, and agreed to submit to Roman rule.

Can You Use Garlic To Get Rid Of Genital Warts

Superiders.

COME TI RIBALTO UN SABATO POMERIGGIO.



ieri pomeriggio ero già sveglio da troppe ore. La mattina erano arrivati idraulico e muratore a spostare il calorifero, ultima iniezione di botox al ringiovanimento del mio appartamento. Stavo combattendo in 35mq contro i batuffoli di polvere e litter armed with broom, roomba, bucket and Swiffer (so to speak that does not move and do not catch dust, increases) as part of the chorus viva la vida and across the ether is David me the good news: "Hey Mat, you go" and the day turns from gray powder.
20 hours we're out of the gates, makes us the honors Alvaro Dal Farra that makes us go.
beautiful place, in line with the big air of frestyle and above the first corner of the Supercross circuit.
I enjoyed like crazy to see those five crazy flying, I had seen several times but never freestyle video live: a unique experience.
The impressive thing is that I realized that now is the backflip na cagata e il trucco sta nel fare gli stessi trick di un tempo.. ma a testa in giù.
In finale freestyle son arrivati Max Bianconcini e Mat Rebeaud, che si è acchiappato pure la mia ovazione anche perchè lo si vedeva un po più pazzo degli altri.
Finita la "competizione" di freestyle si passa alla main event di supercross dominata, come la prima eliminatoria, da Ben Coisy, l'unico che aveva capito come interpretare una parte del tracciato con un doppio un triplo e un doppio di fila.

Tornare a casa, in moto, dopo treoreemezza di sgasate salti cadute e frenate non è proprio consigliabile ma anche questa volta la pelle è arrivata salva e intatta ma sopratutto trasudava emozione.

Altri video:









between Tuesday to return to the Forum, to Coldplay. cover the video this time is mine.

Manfrotto 3011 Vs 3021

Words, words, and words ..

.. ONLY WORDS WORDS WORDS WORDS BETWEEN U.S.



TG5 and just over 20 hours. I'm tired. Tired of all these words spoken by old old old facts.
I have nothing against Jews, it was a distant relative and I have raccontato di come non fu facile in tempo di guerra; ho qualcosa che mi asfissia da dentro quando vedo tutti quei vecchi in perfetti completi su misura, il più delle volte sono abiti blu, come le auto che li trasportano. Non voglio nemmeno fare la solita polemica sterile e tipicamente italiana sul "se la ci fossi io farei.." (che poi son sempre i porci comodi come fan quelli che ci stanno ora). Mi brucia che parlino e parlino.. e ancora parlino di inutili questioni chiuse finite e non dimenticate. Ciarlano senza sapere, come Giacomo Bertone nella newsletter del quale non so come son finito rinchiuso e alla semplice richiesta di uscire da quel pensionato di pensionati mi son sentito dire che io non penso al futuro, come ovviamente fanno tutti i ragazzi della mia età (And therefore more or less too, who do you think about the future? And retirement? Bah!)
Age that everyone likes so much, we first of all that, however and wherever to enjoy, or try to do so, while the old talk and talk ... and talk about their things, and I? and me that I feel like the Lete sodium in the water? when I shit on me? Dinks when I am (the axes of COINS marketing)? when working in two and living like animals concomitantly to enjoy but we will have enough money to spend 0 time goderceli and then being useless machines, all-inclusive travel, giant televisions and subscriptions to 1000 satellite channels for instant enjoyment, futile.
And here's another old (it seems Dark Father, but I am not to discover it) yesterday, in his day, he spoke: "most lay Catholics (= old) in parliament" eccheppalle.
not ask for much in the old ones, of course I'd rather go to see the sites or buildings to the river to fish but in the end I think a bit of good they do, at least for themselves and consequently to someone else. No wonder they do not have to take it, I just do not make us disappear. Why
as a TV spot says "the good things disappear" has become "VYP Very Ydiot People"

the photo is manyetikbant .

Winchester 1400 Shotgun Worth

silent.


've been silent.
've been in a state not recognized by the UN, self-censorship.

the fact is simple: I moved house and I have no internet. (If you want to donate .. even just someone to help me to scrub the key to close: p)
gladly send them to that country the various Italian providers but does not seem nice to come back after eight months and shoot judgments. better come back after 8 months and shoot shit.

I moved house, I said. Are built upon me, I did as I wanted, I am beaten .. but you know, one of the last post is right on the hole. Appro of the last post .. Decapitator continues its work, the link can continue to follow him.

Antef: done.
preface, as well.
thanked them write e non ho nulla a portata di mano per scrivere una dedica convincente. saltiamo qualche pagina bianca e.. tadanh!

8mesi. è successo di tutto. o quasi. anche nulla però.
quello che non è cambiato: continuo a lavorare dove ero.
tutto il resto un vortice.

è cambiato il governo ma non è cambiato un cazzo.
è venuto a trovarmi Stebe, mi hermanito , rimasto un po sconvolto da "noi italiani", lui gigante finnico che ha vissuto in cina, argentina e spagna è rimasto sconvolto dalla maleducazione italica. evvai! duro colpo alla mia autostima di caucasico sopratutto verso i "nuovi vicini" cinesi che a parte cucinare aglio con aglio e fare "ooooh" (ma non come vasco) so many teachers do not appear.
I bought the Roomba 530 : a vacuum cleaner that goes alone. This is fine, very well. clean house shaking non-existent. (If you were to buy after my message ... .. Dear iRobot owe me something, maybe an internet connection: p). I
svalicato several times running, my daughter was at sea, mountain, lake, hills, woods, dirt, rain and heat. I can say that he saw things more of a Hawaiian, not bad.
in Milan and then came the warm, wet fucking, accompanied by mosquitoes. When I die I hope to meet (a) God and I will explain why he decided to create them and, above all, what are they?

this was the slice of life to frame the subject.
Around me the vortex, a devastating Katrina.
people arriving, some departing, some who drove me and many refuse.
new experience, I am Captain. Oh yes now I lead boat (if I say I drive Stefano tilts berth, and finally opens his eyes) ... um ... Guido boats!
Experience old: I am no longer a diver. No, I am not as Marco Donati, I have stuck to the gills and do not live in the aquarium, I love the sea, the fish, but especially the water, I stay inside. Regrettably we can not do it, can no longer be a fish, I can not shut up.

nn so much that I wrote.
I wrote. Thoughts of a centrifuge, a blender of events. you need this milk shake, tell me what fun he had, according to you.

the immagne is hippo-hand

Nitro Circus Go Kart Flip

Sbilf of Davao.

Some claim that Sbilfs and Gans are the same, even that the two terms are synonymous. Nothing could be further from the truth! If I were not so messy I could find in my study documents that attest to this diversity. But given the chaos that reigns for research could be useless. So believe me wonder about the word. In the valley of the Degano Gans, as already seen for the plateau Lauco, had occupied the left side of the valley, the Sbilfs had settled instead on the right, particularly on the plateau of Pani, Raveo above. It is not that the separation was absolute, and in fact the story of Sbilf of Davao which I will speak, refers to a Sbilf which had crossed the river and took office on the terrace where our time stands the cemetery in the hamlet of the Municipality of Avaglio Lauco.
E 'are known to Sbilf love places where you feel the breath of the valley below and to hear the Degano valley of the ridge on which it was at the cemetery is truly exceptional. I now use the Carnian of the most scenic places to build the cemeteries, the idea to pass the eternal life to feel the breath of the valley. The Sbilf, much more practical, thought that you should enjoy life in the beauty of the landscape and nature. For this reason our Sbilf had built a hut right on the edge of the precipice from which starts the natural terrace on which grew the town of Davao. So in original language Avaglio however, as at some point in its history, the name was translated by some ignorant scribe. As a home
Sbilf did not need to harvest crabs ... We had some corn stubble in the fields nearby, and had produced a small sheaf, such as those seen in the autumn around the fields of Carnia. On the one hand had left a small opening that night ended with a bunch of blocks per mo 'port. That's it ... and of course a comfortable mattress, derived from the leaves of corn cobs ... those who, so to speak, even humans use to fill the "paiòns" namely on rudimentary mattresses which pass the nights.
But because he had gone to put right there, coming from the highlands of opposites Loaves and Valdir? The women were immediately aware of Davao going to wash located at the outlet of the country, was a peeping maniac! He stood all day looking at them while they washed their clothes. Not that there was much to see. At that time women did not use the skirts, but not dirty laundry for the long skirts down to her feet, were used to pull up almost to the knee ... So at times Sbilf happened to catch a glimpse of some naked female calf ... and that was enough for lose your head ... Having insight as to which foot went lame the sbilf, Giulia la più bella ragazza del paese prese a mettersi sempre nel primo lavatoio, mettendo bene in vista i polpacci nudi…Potete immaginare lo sbilf… Non riusciva più a dormire la notte, sognandosi quella gamba di donna nuda! Sogna che ti sogna…alla fine si trovò talmente innamorato, che una sera non gli riuscì di evitare la pazzia di seguire Giulia nella sua casa. Gli sbilf infatti non dovrebbero entrare di giorno nelle case degli umani…. E tantomeno nella casa d’una ragazza sola…. Giulia infatti abitava da sola, perché gli erano morti i genitori e non aveva fratelli, proprio nella casa dove adesso c’è il bar, che giustamente è stato intitolato allo sbilf…
Giulia she realized that she had been followed ... but it was a cheeky and she was very curious to see what would have been able to do that little monster of Sbilf, and left the door open so he could go after her ... The Sbilf was high at around thirty centimeters, if everything was in proportion, there was not a risk that could rape. This he thought the girl to calm down ... but if he could get into the head of Sbilf and read his thoughts would have been even quieter Sbilf ... I loved her intensely, but in a platonic love, he enjoyed just looking, thinking, loving the 'image of her with his eyes flow in the heart ... never would have dared even to touch her, just wanted to look at her, and looking as if he was blessed with charm found in heaven, in the most beautiful of the angels ... He had huddled in a corner of the house and looked at her ... and he missed almost
breath ... "I do not say anything?" she asked.
"I have nothing to ask ... Thanks for letting me go ... I just want to look like the sun watching the water stream, the moon looks like the shadows of the night, and dawn the dew drops hanging on the petals of flowers
... "Are you Sbilfs poets!"
"Poetry is in things and not in the hearts of poets ... you are a poem ... "
" Thanks! "Julia whispered that the guys gave, he had never received a compliment so beautiful.
"Do not have a boyfriend?" Asked the Sbilf.
"They have so many guys that make me the court, but I can not innamorami anyone. I believe that love should not be a choice of reason, but an instinctive movement of the heart. "
"Sbilfs We too feel the same way, falling in love but perfect when you have the choice of reason joins the rush of the heart. To thank the reception, I want to make a gift, moving to this house one of my magical powers. Within these walls caught fire hearts, yours and the guy you've chosen to let go ... This will be my magic power to the walls of the house until they come back to take it back !!!...
"Julia did not know what to say ... he was still thinking about what sull'innamoramento perfect and did not realize that even the Sbilf, without another word, without even a word of greeting, he opened the door and was gone wrapped in Meanwhile the shadows of night had fallen on the small country ... He would have tried the next day to thank him ...
But her friends did not escape the scene of Sbilf who followed her into the house. Jealousy, had told la cosa ai Gans di Trava, che si erano arrabbiati di brutto…”Come? loro ad aiutare le donne e portare i pesi, e un cicisbeo di sbilf a far moine alla più bella…All’alba del giorno dopo vennero in forze da Trava a Davài, raggiunsero il costone dove lo sbilf aveva costruito il suo ricovero. Lui protestava che non aveva fatto nulla di male…che sentissero, diceva, la testimonianza di Giulia…Ma i Gans avevano già deciso, non potevano accettare d’essere stati fatti fessi da un intruso di forestiero…Fecero muro davanti allo sbilf costringendolo a ritirarsi fin sull’orlo del burrone…Sospinto da loro fu costretto a fare ancora un passo all’indietro, perse l’equilibrio e poi precipitò nel burrone con un grido straziante, che si sentì per tutta la valle…
Finì così lo sbilf di Davài, senza riuscire a riprendersi il dono magico che aveva fatto alla casa di Giulia, potere magico che è quindi rimasto attaccato alle pietre della casa, e dura ancora…Chi ragazzo o ragazza sta facendo la corte a qualcuno senza riuscire a farlo innamorare, se con una scusa qualsiasi riesce a portarlo o portarla nel bar allo Sbilf ad Avaglio…E’ fatta!...Tra quelle mura, riprende forza la magia dello sbilf… si diffonde nel ambiente come un magico profumo il potere dell’amore, ed entra inarrestabile e irresistibile nel cuore dei presenti…
Provare per credere!!!…Per this, by that time, Avaglio became famous as the land of love !!!...

Nickel Zinc Canon Flash

ArPaZu

At the time of the mists of time, also lived in Carnia the people of the little people, especially those of Sbilfs Guriùts, of Gans and Vinadio. One day a Guriùt named Cjaròi, Arvenis climbing the mountain, the mountain of Carnia heart, wanted to pry into the cave which is located near the top of the mountain. And to his surprise he found that there was already someone inside. An elf, a very strange little man at all similar to Guriuts nor do the other elves he had known of the mountains. If he
Cjaròi avuta la nostra conoscenza gli sarebbero venuti in mente i tre moschettieri. Per il cappello a larghe tese che aveva in testa, ma soprattutto per i vestito che indossava come quello dei moschettieri, o se si vuole come la pianeta che il parroco indossa dicendo messa. A tutto campo, al posto della croce c’era uno strano simbolo. Un grande cerchio, come quelli che si usano per il tiro a segno, con una freccia sulla destra e due gambe sotto.
“Da dove vieni” gli chiese Cjaròi.
“Non so bene rispose l’altro se da un altro mondo, o da un altro continente di questo mondo!”
Colpito dalla stranezza della risposta Cjaròi insistette:
“Ma se non sai da dove vieni come mai sei qui”
"I was brought here the desire for knowledge"
"The desire for knowledge can not physically carry the living"
"Why not? If faith can move mountains, because faith in the knowledge could not carry the living ". For a logic so compelling and absurd at the same time Cjaròi not know what to reply.
asked him his name.
"Arpazù!" He said. "To be precise, he added, should call me Harp Riviera, but since his childhood friends took to cripple and shorten my name that has become just Arpazù.
"Blue Harp Sounds good!" Said Cjaroi reminds me of the names that used the American Indians. But what sense does it make an adjective of color to a musical instrument?
"We are used also for the living poetic names, and poetry is made of metaphors. The sound of it evokes the blue sky when you lose the thought of living following the vibration of the harp. Speaking topic
asked him what it meant carrying the strange symbol on her dress.
"It 's the symbol of our philosophy of life," she answered. E 'need to give yourself the purpose of hitting a target, then it becomes clear direction to follow, and you will find the strength in his legs to follow. "
Cjaròi invitò lo strano piccolo uomo a seguirlo, avrebbe voluto presentarlo ai suoi amici su nella valle ai piedi dello Zèrmula. Ma scesi a Zuglio mentre attraversavano il torrente But, incontrarono un gruppo di Vinadie, le fate scese dalle montagne per bagnarsi nelle acque pure e fresche del torrente. Queste, curiose come tutti gli esseri femminili, si fecero loro attorno chiedendo a Cjaròi chi fosse quel suo così strano ed originale compagno di viaggio.
“E’ uno venuto qui per conoscere!” disse Cjaròi per darsi importanza facendo il misterioso.
“Ma perchè vuole conoscere?” chiesero in coro le Vinadie.
Rispose Arpazù come se la domanda fosse stata diretta a lui: “Voglio know everything else, to know myself better. We say that to be happy is to know yourself, and that to know oneself is to know others who are different. That is my desire to learn drove me up here. "
He could not explain and explain how it was done in the cave on the mountain top Arvenis. But knowing it was basically a useless curiosity. Sbilfs, Guriuts, Gans and the meat itself AGANIS their Arpazù the newcomer, and they took it as a model for what he said and did just about on its logo and its motto
"take an objective
to know where to go and
find the strength in my legs to go. "


.

Homemade Robin Costume

The bells of St. Peter.

Like a good researcher, Lella, after the story about Agan of Mount Dauda, \u200b\u200bnow thought to check if other countries on the slopes of the mountain, bring the same legend. He decided to go to Fielis. Moving the terrain beneath the church of S. Pietro in Carnia rang the bells, and so instinctively decided to change the program to stop and see if there was someone at the church. The fact that ring the bells did not mean that there was someone, the bells now ring with the electric motor controlled by a timer switch. But this could not be excluded that there could also be the sexton, bell ringer.
E 'was in fact. The door of the tower was open and you could hear him down the stairs with some expletive not exactly in keeping with the sacred site. Finally came out in the sunlight, shaking her hair to get rid of dust. Was surprised to find it there waiting for her. If he knew he would not let go of all those aspirations ...
"On weekdays, there is nobody," he said, almost in apology, thus responding to his greeting.
"I was going to Fielis and I stopped by chance".
"But look at that country there is hardly anyone. They were four old .. "
"And I'm just old and my interests. I am doing a research on the law of the flesh, I'm trying to remember if the older people. "
"Ah! But there are so many legends in the flesh ... "
" I am interested in particular those on Agan! "
's statement surprised the Lella with evident embarrassment that his interlocutor replied," But Agan are not a legend, are history. Once upon a time here on the Hill of St. Peter Agan "
The sexton of St. Peter had the same beliefs of the old Dolaces. He used to reiterate the same words that are part Agan real and fantastic in the history of Carnia.
Lella did not know how to interpret this belief is so deeply rooted. He did not understand why even the two older tenessero us to stress the same way the difference between the story, reporting of events that actually happened, and the legend, reporting of events invented. Just at the popular level that was thought to be normal to recognize that the legend and history meet and mingle. There are stories that arise from the facts of history, and there are facts of history that ended up in legend. Some legends are born from the imagination of some author, but have emerged to explain the story ...
believed, however, that would develop these concepts in the premises of his research, and that was not the case to discuss it with the clerk. To get his story suited him unquestioningly accept his point of view.
"If we sit a moment could tell what he knows of Agan who lived here."
"I wish," he said, as if he had finally found someone who showed interest in his stories. "If you want to sit," he added, "I prefer to stand.
limped noticeably, and this explained his difficulties and if the swearing down the steep stairs of the bell tower. But, agitated, kept moving back and forth almost had to take into operation leg. Small and stocky, with thick hair of white hair, with his rolling gait made him in the head at the idea that Lulu was a gnome. He smiled to himself, without comment with his interlocutor, and sat on a stone bench, leaning against the tower, while continuing to tell him to take around it.
For generations his family had the burden of responsibility and honor of the church sacristy Carnia matrix. From generation to generation and moved the office from father to son were also broadcast the story of Agana, which added an element of mystery but also of poetry to the task of ringing the bells of the church. They had to get out paese ogni mattina alle sei per l’ave maria, a mezzogiorno per il segnale di mezza giornata e poi alle otto di sera di nuovo per l’Ave Maria del riposo della notte. Questo ogni giorno, per tutti i giorni dell’anno, poi c’erano le messe, lo scampanio delle feste…Era un compito chi richiedeva anche molta fatica. Per fortuna poi è arrivata l’elettricità, l’orologio programmato…Ora l’impegno è meno pesante, ma c’è sempre qualcosa che non funzione, e gli anni sono andati su…e pesano, ogni anno di più. E’ una fatica che si fa volentieri come servizio alla chiesa, ma anche…
“Guai se mi sentisse l’arciprete…” Even with the commitment Agan
... It 's a long story began again in the seventeenth century ... In those days everyone knew that the hill of St. Peter in the cemetery surrounding the Church, gathered every evening throughout the Agan But the valley. Everyone knew and felt normal. The dead were buried in the cemetery across the valley and the Agan is entertained in the evening with them. The living can not speak with the spirits dell'ultramondo fact, but the dead do. And there was confirmation that this meeting had also the living who could see the cemetery every evening filled with fireflies as if every night of every day of the year had been the night of St. John. With the exception of night of the dead! ... That night Agan did not see it shine and let the flames from burning alive in the souls of their dead.
Everyone knew, including the provost, who knew but pretended not to know. If she had known it would have been forced to take action that would put in a bad light in respect of his parishioners who appreciated the tribute evening Agan of their dead. Until the night of deaths in 1615 was forced to see, and he could not pretend not to see ... No one could explain
the incident for years, for centuries the evening of the dead had made to see that night the flames of agan hovering air of the cemetery joined the flames of the candles for men. When he reached the Provost with a procession from the village, was forced to see and report back to the Inquisition on the phenomenon he had witnessed. The notary Zuglio who was a learned man, he also give an explanation: there are many different calendars, so the Orthodox Easter does not coincide with that of Catholics, perhaps the timing of Agan had a mismatch for that year that the 'was made to coincide with the Gregorian calendar. In Rome the same year the Holy Office discussed with Galileo if the sun revolves around the Earth or vice versa, and perhaps this could have caused confusion among the Agan ... More than a spiegazione dotta era sembrata ai più una spiegazione bizzarra. Ma dotta o bizzarra che fosse, e qualsiasi fosse la spiegazione vera, l’incidente c’era stato. Il prevosto aveva messo in moto la macchina dell’inquisizione. Una macchina che si muoveva come un tritasassi. Gli abitanti di Fielis furono chiamati a Udine a testimoniare che avevano preso lucciole per lanterne, comunque a scanso di equivoci al prevosto fu chiesto di fare uno esorcismo contro la presunta presenza delle Agane, sul colle di S.Pietro…
Le Agane c’erano davvero e per l’esorcismo furono costretta ad abbandonare il luogo. Anche le Agane come il diavolo furono costrette a trattare con l’esorcista e chiesero di potersi rifugiare alla sera Mount Dauda. Added a strange request: to be accompanied by the sound of a bell. "Every evening at eight o'clock the sexton rings the Ave Maria, if you think that sound can accompany you ... just that it is not known around the ... The only compromise to be made aware of the need for secrecy was the sacristan. With the obligation to secrecy on pain of eternal death, and to communicate only to his successors
... Even now when the bells ring without human intervention, every night at eight o'clock the bell chamber is filled with fireflies, and lights. For the first ringing with the sound that goes up the mountain brought the evening breeze, the sound s'accompagna una scia di luce che sale e si perde su nel bosco sopra Fielis, per arrivare fino alla cima della montagna.
“Ecco ti ho svelato il segreto!” concluse il sacrestano agitandosi sempre più. “Io non ho figli a cui tramandarlo. Forse dopo di me non ci saranno neppure più sacrestani alla Pieve. Dal momento che mi hai detto che ti stai interessando alle Agane mi sei parsa la persona più adatta cui confidarlo”

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The man who spoke to Agana.

Lella faceva la ricercatrice all’Università di Udine, ad antropologia, o in qualche altro simile corso di laurea. Era sta incaricata di una ricerca sulle Agane in Carnia. Doveva indagare sul perché nella Carnia, più che nel resto della montagna friulana, fosse venuto meno nella tradizione popolare, il ricordo delle Agane. Come si sa, questi spiriti dell’acqua sono noti in tutta la montagna con il nome di Agane, Aguane, Anguane, Aganis, Gane, Vivane ed altro, e sono descritti in modi molto diversi, alle volte come bellissime fate altre come bruttissime streghe dalle mammelle a penzoloni. Nella Valcellina la loro memoria è rimasta fino a dare il nome all’Ecomuseo della valle. Nella Valcanale, ed in particolare a Chiusaforte, si ricordano associate a varie località. Tra i ladini delle Dolomiti, sono molto diffuse le leggende sulle anguane e proprio con una Anguana che adotta una bambina, prende inizio la saga dei Fanes, la saga sull’origine dei ladini. A livello Anguane the National Museum was named man of the mountain and set up by the National Institute of Research on the mountain. These data
Lella if it was written in the introduction. Had also indicated that the change from fairies to witches was the result of actions of the Inquisition that had tried to demonize the traditions associated with a pantheistic view of living nature, inhabited by spirits who could enter into relationships with men. But his real task was to do field research, checking whether some of the country Carnia, there was still talk of Agana. Vinaio had visited, with the idea that Gans was a further variation of the name. But as we already had modo di vedere a proposito dei Gans di Trava, questi esseri non potevano essere confusi con ninfe d’acqua.
Comunque la visita a Vinaio non era stata vana, da una vecchia del paese, aveva avuto l’informazione che nella borgata di Dolàces c’era un vecchio pastore, Meni di Flèch che raccontava storie di Agane.
Nella speranza di aver trovato finalmente una pista da seguire, il giorno dopo salì con il fuoristrada fino in Malga Corce e poi raggiunse a piedi Dolaces. Oggi la borgata è disabitata, ma già al momento della visita di Lella tutti gli abitanti avevano lasciato le loro case per trasferirsi più a valle, ad eccezione di uno, appunto Meni di Flech che continuava a vivere come un eremita, deciso a non abbandonare il suo paese “se non nella cassa da morto”.
Si era ai primi di maggio, e la primavera era finalmente arrivata anche nella borgata a 1300 m. sul mare, alle falde del monte Dauda, esposta a nord, abitata quando per sopravvivere non si poteva guardare troppo per il sottile, ed uno spiazzo coltivabile, anche se troppo in alto e con cattiva esposizione, poteva andar bene per ricavare l’indispensabile alla vita di una famiglia.
Meni di Flech stava crogiolandosi al primo tiepido sole, seduto sulla panca di legno a fianco dell’ingresso della sua casa. Aveva gli occhi aperti eppure Lella aveva l’impressione che non l’avesse vista, pur essendo già arrivata a pochi metri da lui. L’avevano avvertita Vinaio in that it was an original person. It could be said that the old original was before, with that head shining like a billiard ball which served as a counterpoint to a white beard, thick and untreated. In the midst of a sunburned face, marked by deep lines, carved by time, which shows two blue eyes fixed to look into the void. But that is not being seen, those eyes that watched and did not see, as if his eyes were watching absorbed in thought, was something too original ...
He thought he was crazy, and hesitated for a moment ... For a young woman, was not advisable to spend time alone with a madman, one of the deserted houses of a village abandoned in the middle the mountain. But the woman's curiosity and researcher won on her legitimate concerns.
"Hello!" Greeted him off at two feet away from him.
's greeting seemed to wake up, and looked surprised as if waking from a bad dream to find it hard to recognize the reality that surrounds him. Among those now crumbling houses was not accustomed to open their eyes to a beautiful girl, and in fact answered the salute with a "what are you doing here?" That seemed to go away, rather than a sit down .
"I do not want to bother!" Lella wanted to point out to apologize in advance, still less secure than he had done well to wake him. "If he wants me I'll go! "
" So why come? "
" For the purposes of study, I meet people who know the law! "Rise
amused. Lella And calmed, perhaps the person was not so disreputable as his face made her look. Sometimes, even among men, there is a mismatch between container and contents ...
"In my day we studied the multiplication table, not the legends," he said, laughing.
"You know, is a bit 'changed everything," she said trying to ingratiate himself.
"Who says so! But the legends that concern you? "
" Those on Agan. "
He frowned as if that word had been a provocation against him: "The Agan, I'm not a legend," he said firmly. "We have retired to live on top of the mountain Dauda" and pointed with his hand up the mountain, which slopes to the township was trying
For you to know something about Agan, meet with someone who believed they still existed, it was a fortune, Lella was seen already in his hands a research worthy of publication.
"How do you know who still live on Dauda"
"Witness the ruins of the hut over chaise"
"But what they have to do the ruins of a hut with Agan?" He made
sit on the bench next to you, as though it were his own grandson, and began to tell her the quick history of the hut.
You must know that Daudi and a sacred mountain!
on its slopes, on the side of Zuglio, there is a hut which takes its name from the mountain, this is hut chaise. But they are two huts half share, the top of the mountain, has never been used for pasture because it is the home of Agana. In my time, all shepherds, and no one knew it would push his cattle up there. Even so, confirming that this was a sacred mountain, was just the animals who refused to climb on top of the pasture.
I also knew his grandfather, he continued to Meni tell, but it was a man without a God for more money, he would challenge the devil in hell. He thought about those pastures could raise a great number of cattle, and decided to build a hut at high altitude, in order to use the pastures until then unused. It was thus built the hut above the chaise.
At first he had some difficulty in finding pastors willing to manage the pasture, but finally found someone like him without the fear of God, or forced by the need to disregard the voice of the people who considered the mountain reserved for Agana. But none of these pastors resisted in farm more than a few days. Like the stars in the sky to light up only at the della notte, così sulla montagna al calare delle ombre della notte s’accendevano le voci delle Agane. “E’ come se la montagna fosse piena di noci, e nella notte un gran numero di persone, si mettesse a mescolarle” raccontavano i pastori abbandonando la malga. “C’è un rumore assordante di noci mescolate, che impedisce di dormire”. I più coraggiosi avevano anche cercato di capire da dove venisse quel chiasso di noci rimestate. Ma se andavi a destra lo sentivi venire da sinistra, e viceversa. Era come se tutta la montagna fosse piena di grilli, che invece del solito “cri, cri”, emettevano un assordante “cra, cra”. “Son le Agane!” si convincevano alla fine anche i pastori meno portati a credere alle leggende, e abbandonavano la malga.
Il nonno era evidentemente disperato. Aveva impegnato tutti i suoi soldi nella costruzione della malga. Ed ora non poteva avere nessun ritorno economico dall’investimento, perché non si trovavano pastori per gestirla…Disperato, pensò di utilizzare come pastore Bepi Scivilott, quello che si direbbe lo scemo del villaggio.
Bepi era un ragazzo al quale il cervello gli era mancato sin dalla nascita, ma poi ancora bambino era rimasto senza genitori, e questo fatto non aveva certo migliorato il suo sviluppo…
Dormiva nella casa che gli avevano lasciato i genitori, ma viveva di fatto nella borgata, facendosi ospitare a caso, ora da una famiglia hours by another. "Sometimes the pig farming village of San Antonio, we breed Bepi Scivilott. The nickname in Italian could be translated as "fife" because he knew he had been given to draw whistles from the great melodies that built from giàtul only be derived from the branches (willow). Everyone in town helped him, nobody would have thought you could take advantage of his mental retardation. Grandpa! He was a man without scruples. Took him to pasture and let him sleep alone. He expected to have it back in the country already scared in the night, and instead dawn the next day found him happy, and how he could make himself understood, decided to continue living alone in the hut. Better that! The grandfather did not bother to understand. He saw the possibility of gain and gave him a flock of goats. And the animals who had never wanted to go to the pastures of Dauda, \u200b\u200btook with him to climb up to the top of the mountain. Indeed in the warm evening of August Scivilott stopped to sleep with his animals under some beech trees grew right on top. And the sound of nuts
reshuffled? Mah!. Scivilott said it was music. By day and by night he sang songs with his whistle, and the mountain turned into a wonderful orchestra responded. Sometimes shepherds hut Meledis heard him sing too. His song that seemed out of tune and unpleasant to other men, apparently liked to Agana. It was as if his vocal play music on a different register from that of men, but it was the register of Agana. It was late in speaking with other human beings, but he could get in tune with the Agana.
Scivilott But when he died, and unfortunately for him and his grandfather died young, is no longer anyone who could lead the beasts to pasture in the mountains of Agana. No one who knew how to communicate with them, making them accept the grass grazing beasts. The goats came no more on the mountain. The hut is not used on the chaise soon reduced to a ruin.
"If you want I'll take you to see the remains," concluded the old man. "So you'll have the confirmation of delle Agane”
“Grazie, sarà per un'altra volta!” gli rispose Lella e non volle offenderlo spiegandogli che non aveva senso la relazione diretta che lui faceva tra la malga ridotta ad un rudere, e la esistenza delle Agane sul monte Dauda. Se anche fosse vero che non vi pascolano le capre, potrebbe essere soltanto perché, per qualche caratteristica del terreno, ritengono immangiabile quell’erba.
La guardò con lo sguardo penetrante che gli aveva osservato arrivando. Come allora le era parso che guardasse dentro ai suoi pensieri, ora ebbe la sensazione che leggesse dentro ai pensieri di lei. Scosse la barba incolta in segno di disapprovazione e le disse:
“Se passassi di qui qualche notte sentiresti suonare il violino. Non sono gli spiriti. Son io che suono. Alle volte…Lo suonavo il violino, da giovane, nelle feste da ballo a Vinaio o a Lauco nella Casa del popolo. Ancora qualche volta mi esercito… Lo suono così da dilettante autodidatta. Dalle suo corde si riesce a far uscire un suono d’una delicatezza infinita, dalle nostre corde vocali sappiamo solo far uscire suoni e parole sgradevoli di inimicizia e di odio. Se le sapessimo suonare come si suona il violino…E’ evidente che suonate così, le nostre corde vocali, non ci possono mettere in relazione con l’ultramondo. A Scivilott che sapeva suonare male le sue corde vocali con la tecnica degli uomini, forse madre natura aveva dato il dono di suonarle con la tecnica delle fate, la tecnica del violino. Sapeva pur suonare lo zufolo meglio di qualsiasi altro uomo!..
Per questo poteva parlare con le Agane. E se lui ci parlava, è vero che esistono!!!…”

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The valley of the time.

L’ultima volta che sono stato a Pesariis ho avuto l’avventura d’un incontro davvero fuori dal comune. Il bello è che quando ho chiesto al mio amico Carlo che abita lì, di darmi dei ragguagli sul personaggio che avevo incontrato, mi ha detto che non conosceva nessuna persona che corrispondesse alle caratteristiche che gli andavo descrivendo.

“Non crederai che mi sto inventing the meetings! "I said.

"I'm not nothing I object!" Replied Charles. "But I can assure you that throughout the valley Pesarina there is a person with long white hair reaching down to the shoulders and with a long white beard that reaches to the waist of his trousers, as you describe the person you say you have seen ... ".

"Yet I must be dreaming, because I was walking around the country ..."

I was just walking around the village of Pesariis one day in late April, expecting that I would go with Delio in visita agli originali orologi che sono stati realizzati negli angoli più caratteristici del paese. Piuttosto che una giornata di inizio primavera sembrava una giornata d’autunno inoltrato. Piovigginava. Sul paese si aggiravano nuvole nere, pesanti di pioggia, dalle quali si sfilacciavano refoli di nebbia che si insinuavano nelle strette viuzze. Mi guardavo attorno, ammirato per come era stato sistemato il paese, ripristinando sulle strade l’acciottolato il “codolàt” d’un tempo.

Quando fui davanti a casa Bruseschi, che come diceva il depliant che stavo leggendo “era stata la residenza di una delle più autorevoli famiglie del paese, fin dal XV secolo, come testimoniano documents of the parish "I saw with surprise that it was open. "Maybe someone is doing the work" I thought, and could not resist the desire to slip through the door ajar, to visit the interior of the house.

"E 'come in?" I asked aloud.

Nobody answered me. Unless you were to consider a response to the sound of a grandfather clock that one of the rooms, common rooms for the echo of four bells, to remind me that it was time for the appointment for which I had gone to Pesariis. "I'm in a hurry, and I'll be right" I said to myself, as if the friend who was waiting for me he could hear. I hurried, thinking about a very quick look at the typical home and superfiale Carnian. But when I was in the large kitchen, I had to stop because someone was sitting on the bench around the stove. At first I thought this was a reconstruction, such as those found in the Museum of Carnico Tolmezzo, but then I thought I was moving ...

"Excuse me," I said, "I found open, and I thought can make a quick visit ... I asked permission, but I had no answer ...

"Who should you give permission? .. "said the old man, confirming his voice, which I had been right, that it was not a set of rebuilt ...

On the right side of the fireplace sat an old man was in fact of great stature . For the long white hair and long white beard, I was think of an image of Christ in some paintings, but I could not define which. But the face was shrunken, marked by deep wrinkles, long and slender hands outstretched on her knees, reminded those of a skeleton. It was an old ... very old ... Dressed in the clothes to party like you see portrayed in the photographs of the early twentieth century ... the foot, which rested on the edges of the hearth, scapets wore the new, highly embroidered ... I noticed them because they seemed out of tune, I looked like women's shoes, which do not go with the dress and especially with the age ...

But more than the clothes I was amazed at the joke which I did not know what to reply ... If I had to give permission? Since I had snuck into the house without permission, someone who was there, he would have told me if I could stop, or if I needed to leave ...

"Sa. Curiosity. I found it open ... "I repeated to apologize di nuovo.

“Sei nella valle del tempo!” disse il vecchio con la cadenza e l’importanza di chi sta recitando una sentenza. “E il tempo non chiede il permesso a nessuno…”

Mi ricordai che in valle a Pradumli c’era un famoso centro di anarchici. Pensai che il vecchio, con quelle battute originali sul tempo, potesse essere l’ultimo degli anarchici…

Certo che il tempo scorre senza chiedere il permesso a nessuno. “Ruit ora”, dicevano i latini e in quel “ruit” più che l’idea dello scorrere c’è quella roll of the irrepressible, unstoppable ... But because of the damage I would have had to explain these things to the old? ..

However, without expecting any explanation from me, instead she asked me if I knew why the valley was called the valley of Pesarina time.

"Being famous because they manufacture the watches," I said, I assume that someone connected with the idea that the clock of time, and we have built a brand because they are very intelligent and evocative original. I like the idea of \u200b\u200bthe valley of the time! ...

"I'm glad you like!" he played again the old, in the tone of a tragic actor. "But the explanation is quite another. It's called the valley of the time because it is here that the time was invented ... "

" Other than an anarchist! "I thought. "That's just escaped from some lunatic asylum ..."

"Sit down!" He said firmly. Cursing the curiosity that made me go into that house, and sure to have something to do with a madman who, as you know, it's always better to indulge ... I sat down the other side of the hearth, on the bench opposite to his, and heard first concerned then more and more astonished and curious about this strange story of the valley Sbilf Pesarina.

The old man began to say as Ireland everyone knows that the world of little men existed before the world of men, so Carnia you should know that the world of Sbilf was earlier than that of men. I had no objection, as I am convinced that the world of Sbilf both the world of fairy tales, that the world in which everything is possible. The old man spoke to me, however, safe to refer to the real stories ... and so I was careful not to say that I thought of fairy tales anyway ... who knows what the truth ...?

As the history of mankind begins with Genesis, just as the history of Sbilfs has its genesis ... ... the beginning of time lived in the valley Sbilfs timeless ... the sun rose to mark the beginning of ' a new day, night fell and the death knell, but the days followed one another equally and without end ... If there is no end to which measure time, there's no time ...

The Sbilf lived in complete freedom, and then in complete anarchy, the only rule that everyone must have the freedom to the limit, unique and unsurpassed in the freedom of the ... None was the owner of something, because all they owned all ... Everyone liked him, because everybody respects the commandment of God who had ordered not to eat from the tree of love, in the middle of the garden of Eden. Till he came to the Sbilf Eve did not respect the commandment of God and wanted to take the fruit of love. But love implies the exclusive relationship with your loved one, the sole desire to see her, sighing impatiently waiting ... The meeting of love became an end, and the order originated the time ... I felt the Sbilf Adam need to measure the time that separated him from the next meeting with Eve, and the stream that flowed into the valley with no time to invent a way to ensure that the flow of water mark the time ... And so the Sbilf, began to feel the weight of time and called Pesarina the stream, and the valley became the valley of the time ...

and expertise gained by Sbilf in developing tools to measure time, concluded the old man, was then transferred to men. For this time the valley is also called the Valley of the clocks, because, as nowhere else, between these houses are known to create tools to measure time ...

I just got in Valley to see those original watches, and that he should accompany me Delio was waiting for me, certainly worried about my delay ... I was finished listening to the story of an old man out of time, I spoke of the origin of the time ... to discover that the former does not exist ... like maybe there is no time ...

Song In Unleashed Mother Played

The Druid Catelraimondo. The bell

I plan to attend the inauguration of the work to complete the Archaeological Park of Cultural Castelraimondo to Forgaria Friuli 14 October 2006, but occurred commitments, I had to give up. The curiosity see what had been discovered after nearly twenty years of study by the University of Bologna and Parma, on a site that dates back certainly pre-Roman times, led me to visit the place some days later. The atmosphere is great! Going by car from the road Forgaria on which are perched the houses in the township that has developed on Zuc Scjaramont, you open every bend widening the landscape for which the 'hill was chosen as the site of look. But even as a privileged place of residence, for a people like the Celts felt that the "poem of wide horizons. "

Leave the car in the deserted courtyard last villa built by the Celts as someone who certainly knows how to appreciate the poetry of the "breath of the valley," I continued to walk the path as shown equipped . Those stones that were excavated from infinite patience of young archaeologists, they gave me a deep emotion. "I'm putting my feet," I thought, on stones worked by people who have gone before in the history of these places, of two thousand four hundred years. What thoughts, words that have linked their work to those stones? In the silence punctuated only by the sound of my footsteps seemed to feel, to hear the voices of the yard to sniff the smell of sweat in an effort to move those big boulders, with no other equipment that the hands and the ability to force together. "Oh! heave! "onomatopoeia that accompanies the effort, maybe it was the same in the language of the Celts. "Oh! heave! "I seemed to hear echoes in the wood, and twisted trees of the forest wilderness, stimulate my imagination. "Oh heave!" I thought ribalzasse the cry from stone to stone, as if the stones nor repeated the echo after so many centuries ...

It was a gloomy day autumn. He seemed to rain at any moment, but it was not raining ... Even the weather seemed suspended in the history of those suspended between rows of stones, which had once been a wall, which were the foundation of a house, a stable in a tower, which had been the objects of thought of other men. Stones like tombstones in a cemetery in which the men had marked the passing of each day of millennia of history. I was alone and walked with caution, with a devotion almost as if I were really in a cemetery. After almost two hours to visit, I had seen enough. I had read all the signs. I already knew everything ... I was repeatedly stopped to contemplate the view from a hand sweeps over the hills and the valley of the Tagliamento, the other controls the narrow valley dell'Arzino. I could start again, but I could not decide, also remained suspended my will ... It was as if I had not heard a voice, but speaking to me in, I forced him to remain, to walk among the stones yet, undecided about what to do.

was the rain that finally forced me to leave. Drops of a light mist was rising from the country, I turned away with a chill from my thoughts and I woke up from the charm of the place that brought me out of time ... course to reach the car, but instead I decided to enter shelter under the roof of the laboratory that is located next to the place where I parked. So, without thinking about it! ... Maybe just because I still wanted to look at the view of the valley, and between the threads of rain became almost fabulous and unreal ...

was a carpenter's workshop. A man, I think the owner or a worker, was putting in place some axes. He stopped in surprise at the intrusion, not planned ...

"Excuse me, I said to mo 'greeting. "It's raining!"

"I see," replied dry.

"I was entertained at the park!" I said as if to apologize.

"did you like?"

"Extraordinary!" I said and then always to justify the intrusion in his laboratory told him of my interest in the Celts, the research that I conducted. Seeing that I was following with interest, and would not stop raining, I let myself be carried away by the heat of discourse, and spoke to the idea that I had made on their religion founded on the coexistence of the world with that of the invisible visible.

At some point I stopped abruptly. "Look," he said "has long been looking for a person like her. I have a story to them ... It 's like a long time I wanted to confess, but could not find a priest up to assess my sins ... I've never talked to anyone , not to make fun of me, but from what I've just heard about his interests, I think she is the right person to whom I could trust ... "

took to say ...

I, like her a moment ago, I've always felt since the suggestion of a child Casteraimondo site. I live nearby, and the Castle Park has always been for me my public garden. When I did a little walk around the hill, at any time of day, and sometimes on moonlit nights, even at night ... Then came the university, the students arrived, I made friends with them, I have also helped in the research work. I've seen come to light the stones, the foundations of the houses ... When they decided to build the sheds to repair the ruins that were revealed, I have opposed ... I thought that those modern buildings would ruin the magic of places. I explained the need to repair the artifacts. I retorted the need not to upset the atmosphere the castle on the hill. Prevailed in the end the need to protect the relics, and they received the roofs for protection ... I did not like, but that does not stop me from continuing to attend the archaeological park of Castelraimondo. Until a couple of months ago ... then I have had the courage to set foot ...

"Why?" I interrupted.

"Why did that happen that I would like to tell and I never told anyone. If you want to hear me, and I promise not to get mad .... "

I seemed to hear the architect the novel of "The Celts come back", but I told him, assured him that even the presence of the Celts had already received so many witnesses, which led me to believe there was something mysterious and inexplicable ...

"Misterioso and inexplicable, "he repeated," just like what happened to me. " It began to tell ...

was an afternoon last August. He was approaching a storm threatening. Huge clouds blacks were lowered until it reaches the castle hill. It was certainly not the time to take a walk, yet I had come the desire to rise, as when you get the urge for a cigarette, in the most inopportune time ... "and I go away!" I said and began to climb almost ran down the path already completed, ready for the inauguration. I had just arrived near the remains of what had been recovered as the "home-sanctuary" of the Celts, when it began to rain as I had never seen, as if St. Peter had opened all of a sudden floodgates of heaven ... Against the light flashes could be seen as a large wire ropes of rain, thunder and entered the ground seemed to shake stones as there had been an earthquake. I riparai under the canopy that covers the remains the house. I was opposed to its construction, but I was the first to have an advantage ... In life you often have to take advantage of what has been achieved in spite of ourselves ... thunder, lightning and the deafening sound of rain on the roof ... I seemed to be finished in ... hell "sparrows" I thought, and instead grew darker, as if it was over the top of the hill inside a thick, black cloud.

"And here begins my story ..." continued my interlocutor, after a short break, making the gesture of wiping the sweat from his forehead. Continued ... all of a sudden I thought I saw a light coming out of the earth, from the center of the house, in the place where archaeologists say they have found the remains of the ceremony for laying the first stone. The light grew slowly as if it swells, and there appeared a person ... It was the light to be the person ... Dressed in white, with a long beard, facial features and age indefinite. I had no doubt: it was the image of a Druid, as I had seen in many books. I thought I would touch and I would die, as I had read in many legends. I wanted to escape, but could not move, as sometimes happens in dreams.

Maybe he read my mind and told me not moving, not to scare me. "This was my house!" Began to speak. And 'this is still my home, because I'm still here ... As yet I am still here eternity all who have lived here through the passage of time in history. We do not live in the dimension of eternity, you in that time. A time between the two dimensions you informed ... I was one of those who knew how to get out of the dimension of time to find myself with those who live in the dimension of eternity. tool that you have found the synx, (as stated in the illustration panel) was the instrument that allowed me to get in touch with the world without time. E 'capable of emitting the ultrasound to help the relationship with the other dimension with you ... Today, the opposite m'è successful, but I did not do to explain these things, you do not know what to believe anymore ... I'm back to dispel the doubts that some scholars have come to this house finding the bodies of stillborn babies. Nothing strange, it's a belief that six centuries has also developed in your religion: you thought that children could rise for a moment to receive encouragement for a happy eternity. Although we thought ... We thought that the dimension of eternity, the individual should have the memory of his having been in time. They took them to me, because I dessi loro la memoria della vita dei loro genitori, non potendo avere loro memoria d’una vita che non avevano vissuto…

Così mi ha detto e senza aspettare che io gli rivolgessi la parola, che gli facessi delle domande, che gli chiedessi delle spiegazioni, si è spento come un fuoco che cessa di ardere, e si è sciolto di nuovo nel centro della sua capanna…

Faceva già freddo in quella giornata piovosa di ottobre. Ma il falegname continuava a tergersi il sudore della fronte, attendendo un mio commento…

Non sapevo che cosa dirgli. Anch’io mi stavo chiedendo per quale strano gioco delle coincidenze, dovevano finire a me tutti questi racconti sui Celti. Perché invece che salire in macchina come sarebbe stato più logico, ero finito in questo laboratorio di falegname a sentire questo così originale e strano racconto?...

Se l’idea di quel racconto sui bambini nati morti fosse venuta a me, potevo darmi una spiegazione perché proprio in quei giorni stavo studiando la storia della Madonna di Trava di Lauco, ove la tradizione voleva che tornassero a rivivere i bambini nati morti, il tempo necessario per ricevere il battesimo. Ma il falegname mi confessò che non sapeva nulla della Madonna di Trava, e che non aveva capito a che cosa si riferisse the Druid when he spoke also of a belief in our religion ...

Which Towel Brand Is The Strongest?

Hospital Gemona

Al dott.Pietro De Antoni and his team

witness of sincere and profound gratitude

for a reception that the high professional

humanitas has successfully combined the authentic, sincere ,

hallmark has always

man and especially woman's Friuli.

The Bell Hospital Gemona. [1]

Questa storia l’’avevo già sentita raccontare da alcuni amici che erano stati ricoverati all’ospedale di Gemona del Friuli. Ma ci avevo riso su!... “Panzane!” avevo commentato…Che in certe notti, all’interno dell’ospedale si senta suonare una campana, mi era parsa una circostanza, frutto della debolezza di chi, da degente, si trova a vivere le ansie e le tensioni legate alla malattia e le preoccupazioni sulle prognosi. Una operazione chirurgica è sempre un qualcosa a rischio!.. Nelle notti passate nella vana attesa di un po’ di respiro e di sollievo, nell’inutile tentativo di trovare una posizione nello scomodo letto d’ospedale per conciliare il sonno, si possono sentire i rumori più diversi, immaginando per questi le interpretazioni più fantastiche…

Ma quando è toccato a me di finire ricoverato in ospedale a Gemona, sono stato costretto a ricredermi!... Già la prima sera, verso mezzanotte, mentre cercavo invano di addormentarmi, ho sentito distinto il suono d’una campana. Ho pensato fosse la suggestione per il racconto che mi era stato fatto dagli amici. E del resto stavo così male…Avevo purtroppo altro cui pensare, prima di capire se si trattasse d’una campana o di che altro…

La seconda sera stavo un po’ meglio ed infatti m’ero addormentato senza fatica già a prima sera, senza pensare ad altro che a quello che sarebbe stato l’esito della mia malattia, l’esito dell’operazione alla quale i chirurghi avevano deciso di sottopormi. Ma fui svegliato di soprassalto nel cuore della notte da un suono di campana, chiaro e distinto. Assolutamente inconfondibile!... Forte al punto d’avermi svegliato!... Si succedevano alcuni rintocchi distinti, di campana che suona a distesa, poi d’un tratto il suono turned in the sound of something breaking, as if the bell had fallen apart ... I used to believe only in secular terms what I perceive with my senses ... view of the time, except now the sound could come from some church located in the countryside surrounding the hospital. I did not know it existed. But even if it had existed more than one, no one starts to ring a bell in the night ... It was only then to understand what he was producing a sound that might suggest the sound of a bell .

After half an hour, the sound stopped completely. Expect, however, to understand what it was ... sent back the check the next night ... If I felt that sound. Then taken back to sleep.

The next night the anxiety of knowing if the sound had been made to listen again, I could not sleep ... "So much the better!" I thought. The explanation for what I had heard the previous night could be just the fact that had seemed to wake up, whereas repetition of the sound that later ended in a sound, was part of a dream.

I was looking at l’orologio che segnava la mezzanotte e trasalii sentendo di nuovo, ancora più netto e distinto che la sera precedente, un suono che non poteva essere se non quello d’una piccola campana. Ero perfettamente sveglio, avevo appena controllato l’ora…non potevo avere dubbi: nella notte stava suonando una campana!... Dal timbro si poteva pensare alla campanella che sovrasta l’ingresso nelle chiese di campagna. S’udiva distintamente una serie di rintocchi e poi un tonfo, il rumore di qualcosa che si rompe, come se la campana si fosse staccata dagli ancoraggi, fosse caduta al suolo e si fosse rotta nell’impatto.

Infilai la vestaglia e raggiunsi the head of the corridor, on the side from which the sound seemed to come, dragging alongside the trestle with bags of drugs and the catheter bag.

Gemona Hospital, rebuilt after the earthquake of 1976 should have been a model of innovative hospital. At that time I did the Mayor to Tolmezzo and had repeatedly followed the discussions about it because the new structure would connect to the network with the existing hospital in Carnia. I also tried to launch the idea that Tolmezzo Gemona and renounce the construction of their hospital, to build a shop for Alto Friuli, the parties to love or to the station Carnia. But eventually I "threw stones" and those of those who Gemona Tolmezzo, so I had to save myself by saying that it was a provocation.

Beyond these personal asides, I do not know who was the architect, but by living in, the result seemed to me much less than expected. Organizing a hospital on a single endless aisle, I do not think a great solution! When you are on the corridor, and all internal doors are open, one gets the impression of being in the underground tunnel of a huge anthill, where patients, relatives, doctors, nurses meet and move mad as a file of ants.

obviously did not think all this while (confesso!) not without a bit 'of fear, I travel to the head of the corridor. It has a nice little saying that there must be an explanation for everything. But that explanation could have a bell sound at midnight? ... My room was not very far away, and soon reached the head of the corridor. To close in some way along the gut center, the architect has planned two heads on a kind of sentry box that juts outward, with no functional significance, but as an aesthetic solution to move the front of the head.

Entrai nella garitta, fissando gli occhi sull’esterno alla ricerca di qualcosa che mi potesse riportare al suono della campana. Fui lì lì per svenire e non per problemi legati alla mia degenza ed alla mia malattia, ma spaventato a morte per ciò che i miei occhi stavano vedendo.

Avrei dovuto avere davanti agli occhi i piazzali di accesso all’ospedale che portano ai magazzini ed alle celle mortuarie, e invece alla mia vista si presentava una scena completamente diversa, inaspettata ed inspiegabile…Mi diedi un pizzicotto per confermarmi che non stavo sognando. Non sognavo!... Ero perfettamente sveglio, ma quella in front of me could not have been the scene of a dream ...

day I had already noticed that the squares surrounding the hospital are closed to the outside by a barrier of tall poplar trees. Less dense at the hospital where the property is surrounded almost the houses in the village of Ospedaletto. About this country, I had read during the day that the name derives from the fact that already in the twelfth century was home to a hospital for travelers coming from Aquileia had to deal with the mountain passes and Julian carniche to reach the Norian. I thought about the curious fate of the place after eight hundred years and still retains Its mission of the hospital zone ...

On the side towards Gemona, the row of poplars instead becomes a real thick woods. The stems are very high all bent to the country, confirming that the wind blows mainly from north to south, forcing the trees to the position permanently skewed. At first I had come up with the march of the penguins, or the march of people made in the abdomen, forced to bend forward to avoid pulling on the wound ...

It was just the beginning of Spring ... on some trees had already checked le prime foglioline, ma per la gran parte erano ancora spogli come durante l’inverno. Sui lunghi tronchi di colore chiaro si succedevano ad intervalli di due-tre metri, delle specie di collari di colore scuro dai quali si dipartivano i rami, rivolti verso l’alto come mani scheletriche alzate a forza verso il cielo.

Ebbene! Guardavo fisso, ma non c’erano più gli alberi, non c’era più i piazzali, non c’era più il paese di Ospedaletto, le cui case di giorno filtravano oltre il filare dei pioppi. Non c’era più nulla di tutto questo…c’era soltanto una grande costruzione bassa e circolare, che mi fece pensare ad a hut, with all round the animal shelter and the center of the Tamar "

entrance of the building, on the side of the country. There was a small church, very similar to the present church of All Saints. Like this one with a door flanked by two columns supporting the small architrave, which rests on the top bezel. At the sides of the door closed two small windows in the upper arch, and over three small rosettes to move symmetrically in the upper part of facade. At the height of the usual small belfry. Beside the church had two entrances, closed by gates of wood. From here we entered nel cortile che mi ricordava il “tamar” delle malghe. Il ricovero che circondava il cortile, che mi richiamava le “lòges” delle malghe, era unico, senza soluzione di continuità, ma i montanti di legno che sorreggevano la copertura, distanti tra loro quattro-cinque metri, lo dividevano in piccole stanze che avevano la stessa dimensione. Ogni stanza era chiusa da portelloni di legno.

Il tetto di tutta la costruzione, fatto di scandole, spioveva verso l’interno e faceva sì che il complesso avesse in qualche modo una sua eleganza architettonica. Ma non si trattava d’un ricovero per animali, non era una malga. Da tutte le parti si vedevano esseri umani doloranti…

Si trattava certamente di un ospedale! Ogni stanza era piena di ammalati che giacevano su giacigli di paglia, coperti soltanto di qualche straccio. E c’erano ammalati anche nel cortile, ricoperti anche loro di pochi stracci, per potersi riparare dal freddo della notte e dalla rugiada. Si capiva che in qualche modo erano in lista di attesa, nella speranza che si liberasse un posto dentro ai ricoveri…

La prima “loge” sulla sinistra entrando, (si intuiva facilmente), era quella riservata a sala operatoria. C’erano dei chirurghi, all’opera su un paziente che con le sue urla di dolore, riusciva a coprire tutto il brusio di lamenti che costituiva il rumore di fondo del posto. Mi avvicinai per guardare, e, con stupore e spavento allo stesso tempo, vidi che ero io la persona sotto i ferri…

Non poteva essere!...Io in effetti stavo guardando…Eppure la persona che gridava dal dolore mi rassomigliava in modo assoluto, come se fosse una perfetta mia controfigura…

“Perché non gli date qualcosa per alleviargli il dolore?” chiesi. Mi faceva pena sentirlo urlare, mi faceva pena ancora di più per il fatto che avevo l’impressione to be the place of my doubles, to devour the pain ...

"Who are you? What do you want? Ic your facts ... ... "taken to yelling at me what should be the leader of the surgeons, not even worthy of a glance, intent as it was to its operation. You do not even spared an avalanche of insults, curses and vaffa of that ... I do not think the case to bring ...

"I ask only," I apologized.

"But do not know, "he shouted the second of surgeons" that's why we brought tango to mail the chief anesthesiologist Hospital Tolmezzo. Now the anesthetic is practicing the most innovative solutions at European level. By pressing on the jugular with its own special technique is trying to lull the brain is doing while drinking from a flask, a product of his own invention, made up a recipe for French aunt, steeping herbs picked in the fields of Fuse, macerated methanol in alcohol that is formed as a head and tail in the process of distillation of brandy ... "

"You!" I said. "But this is my double, despite these innovations, is suffering as a beast. I would not like it was a sad omen of what I have to suffer too! ..

"Do not be afraid! You have nothing to fear you! "Reassured me a voice from behind me.

I turned. The strangeness of the encounter with my double, who was working, I had already put in great embarrassment, unable to understand where the hell I was finished. The new encounter only increased my confusion. Umberto's brother in front of me !!!... It was without a shadow of doubt that the friend had been to visit me in the afternoon. We had been drinking with good Tocai, until the night before my hospitalization. But what was he doing dressed as a monk? ...

I understood immediately that it was the facility manager. Giving orders, directions, suggestions ...

"What are you doing here? I asked.

"Can not you see? replied, "I have entrusted the responsibility of running this facility. I follow the organizational aspects, the head surgeon's health issues. "

"I have already had occasion to take his insults!"

"I know! But never in this case appearances are deceiving. It 's a bravuomo a bit' too confusing, plant catastrophic mess over nothing, but is very professional and above all a great feeling, a big heart. For a friend then gets four ... to please a friend, sometimes it is capable of ditching all difficulties with the organization that I was able to activate. "

"However, between Umberto Umberto or expensive if you prefer, if this is a hospital, you could spend more than that to make a structure a bit 'more decent," I said.

"Look, retorted, that this is one of the newest of all high-Italy. I still do not have neither liability nor positively and negatively. I have to run ... what's with this task since they sent me up here my superiors of the convent of St. Anthony in Padua.

I confess to having no enthusiasm left Padua. It was so good down there in the convent of the city, alternating between prayer in the pastime of small jobs in the garden ... Here everything is different. The faith ends up here falter. In the face of so much suffering you can not help wondering where is God ...

to help and console my mother also wanted to follow, as Monica was following St. Augustine. But now she is gravely ill ... I would not like to end with St. Augustine and his mother Monica. I regret to bury in the cemetery of this country ... "

"You'll see it heal," said I, with one of those usual phrases superabound fact that in relationships between people in hospitals. "If you think you that this is among the best facilities ..." I continued. "I can not believe you, but I still have my doubts. I've seen recently spent two orderlies who carried the bowls on a table for dinner. Reminded me of two people in the foreground under Bruegel the Elder "Wedding Banquet".

Bruegel the Elder: The wedding

I saw into a mess of a mysterious color, strange and indistinct, exhaling a stench that forced me to turn away so as not to vomit. Beds are then, on which rest the sick do not strike me as a girlfriend ... "

" The food you're right! Leave a little to be desired! We have outsourced the service to the Cooperative of the hungry, and we suspect that we do the ridge in order to help its members. On pallets no, you're right ... ours are made with sweet-smelling hay harvest in the mountains, in the other hospitals are made with wheat stubble, and are therefore less soft. " "Excuse me a moment," he added hastily, and moved in the direction from which he received a louder cry for help and heartbreaking. I laughed to myself seeing sculettando away, so that the robe dangling in the air like a bell.

Good! I understood what his role was ... I knew almost everything about the organization of the strange hospital. But he, my friend, as there was over? I knew him as a fervent practitioner the Church, I am not, however, had became a monk. And I was there to do? He was dressed in the habit of the Franciscans. The habit grew to cover the stomach distended from the Tocai glasses, then went down like a large bell, to just below the knees. Sticking out from under the two legs, thin and lean, like those of a sick person. The feet tucked into a pair of sandals too big, forcing him to walk swaying the body and dragging feet. I was looking for this rice before running away ...

I would have liked to ask for explanations! But since I had seen and was not stupid in my presence, had to be completely normal in some way what was happening to me. It was I who did not understand ... But I did not understand what ...? Ero anch’io vestito come loro?... Non ci avevo fatto caso...tutto preso da ciò che mi circondava non avevo pensato a me… Loro erano tutti vestiti con brevi tuniche dai colori smorti… Mi facevano pensare a personaggi ambientati nel Medioevo, come riprodotti in qualche quadro dei fiamminghi.

Non potendo chiedere in modo diretto come mai fossimo lì, ed a fare che cosa, ebbi l’idea di chiedere che giorno fosse. Posi la domanda alla prima inserviente che mi passò accanto.

“Siamo al 25 gennaio dell’anno domini 1348” mi rispose con una tip precision, as if it had not been surprised by my question. I had the opportunity to see and appreciate the availability and humanity of servants. I forgot to ask if they were a few orders of nuns or lay women. They were the only way people dressed, with coats clean and tidy. Flowers bloom to grace the event in the field of pain! ...

The attendant in his willingness, perhaps he was going to add something to help me understand more, when a piercing scream is extricated and emerged from the tangle of moans, cries and curses that was the noise constant background characteristic of that kind of hospital.

"The Plague," shouted someone in the top of her throat.

Among Umberto I saw rush in the direction from which the cry had come. She crossed the four porters who had gathered in a blanket the patient, who had been diagnosed with plague.

"You can not," cried trying to stop them. "E'mia mother!"

"That is also the mother of God Almighty, we do not care! "reacted brutally one of the four. "He has the plague and must be taken away!" "He has the fever," cried again because everyone in the field understood as a new threat loomed over all. "With a shove that brought down was interposing between Umberto and continued on their way to bringing the infected outside the hospital.

out for a door that was on the side opposite the church, and deposited the plague-stricken in the meadow behind the hospital.

Among them chasing Umberto begging them that they had mercy. "It 's my mother!" He kept repeating like a short prayer. But they will not give him straight ... When I reached him, it was just beside the poor mother, curled up inside the rags that were supposed to be a blanket.

crying and cursing the ingratitude of men. "We stayed in Padua." But we came up here to do good in Friuli ... And this is the thanks for the well we did? ...

I did not know what to say ... There are circumstances in which è il frate che deve consolare gli altri, trovando nel Vangelo le parole di speranza. Io da laico non avevo argomenti per aggiungere nessun commento… Le parole di compassione e di misericordia si rivolgono con facilità agli altri, molto più difficile è rivolgerle a noi stessi…Anche Fra Umberto si dimenticò d’un tratto di tutte le parole di consolazione che aveva usato con gli ospiti dell’ospedale, e prese ad imprecare contro tutto e contro tutti, per l’ingiustizia di cui si sentiva vittima, e di cui era vittima soprattutto sua madre. Dopo aver fatto tanto volontariato in ospedale, ora era stata abbandonata a morire lì nel freddo d’una notte di gennaio, come se fosse stata un cane randagio…

While among Umberto cursed, he began to play the small church bell. Perhaps the clerk with the sound he wanted to accompany his mother to heaven Fra Umberto. The sound of the bell would have to return to prayer, the prayers for the dying to find a way to accompany his mother on the last trip ... But he could not pray ... He felt that the injustice was too egregious to be forgiven, to give a way to prayer.

"May the curse of God may descend upon you!" He shouted. May God destroy this hospital from foundations, and all this land as he did Sodom and Gomorrah ... "

" While saying so, the earth began to tremble, and the grass moving as if the bowels of the earth were shaken by a terrible sob . From the mountains came off huge boulders coming down with a deafening roar, raising huge clouds of dust. The hospital building was crossed by a sudden vibration and fell apart like it was paper mache. How long did the earthquake? Perhaps only a minute, but seemed an eternity ... There was no hospital, there was no church at all ... was reduced to a heap of rubble, a strange sort of nest.

From the rubble, just as an ant hill, they took to come out of the shadows of people who walked in a sort of procession into the forest of poplars. The forest itself was transformed into the procession, which winds its way slowly, as the current of a river. But not down, saliva ... I think towards the monumental cemetery Gemona, or from the Duomo ... I do not know ... accompanied by the sound of the bell of the church. A good case could be distinguished the chimes, then suddenly the chimes was replace by the noise of the bell, with the earthquake that had fallen along with the church ...

sang softly, a Gregorian melody that reminded me of the Benedictus by which the tradition carnica accompany the deceased to the cemetery. I felt myself to be part of the procession of prayer. I sang what I sang the other, the pitch was that of Benedictus, but had other words: it was a sort of paraphrase of the Our Father, who had never heard before:

Infinity exist at the origin of my becoming,

is acknowledged your existence

Assert a way of coexistence among people,

note that your existence

in the dimension of our daily lives

as it will be in the eternal dimension.

Give to live every day

being in your size.

Forgive our lack of confidence

as we forgive the lack

of confidence in us, by the brothers.

not help our lack of faith,

but instead help us overcome the tendency to deny you!

sang ... so that the originality of our Father led me to think it was the group of Cathars Gemona that as legislation in history, received the visit of the Cathar bishop Peter Gallo.

sang well, I do not know where to go ... For without getting anywhere, at some point I found myself in my hospital bed, as though they had never left. I tried to find their way, giving a sense of what I seemed to have seen and heard ... "What have I lived?" I was just wondering. "A dream? A journey of the soul, like what they used to make benandanti? ". I could not give me an answer ...

The following nights I began waiting in hope to hear again the sound of the bell. I had talked to my surgeon friend, and as expected, he began to laugh and make fun of me ... I wanted to hear the sound, to make him feel to him ... I wanted to see what happened to him during the night around the hospital.

But he finally the opportunity! Neither do I. I have heard the sound of the bell ... then I left the doubt that he still wanted to see ... I came to the conclusion that the sound he aims to revive someone in that scene. I had seen. I could testify. Not was no reason for a repeat. The fact of having had a witness, had perhaps given the eternal peace to those shadows in person. I do not know! I have limited myself to write what I saw ...

In the history of Friuli actually remembers the disastrous earthquake of January 25, 1348. It also recalls the disastrous plague epidemic that struck in the same year who had been saved by the earthquake. The plague, the story goes, was developed several months after the earthquake, but as the case maybe the mother of Brother Umberto, was already incubating the disease at the time of the earthquake.

Dal Blog http://raccontipiutti.blogspot.com

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[1] Quando sono stato ricoverato all’ospedale i Gemona il 1 aprile 2008 stavo lavorando ad un serie di racconti, per una ricostruzione fantastica della storia della Carnia, ed allo stesso tempo ad una rivisitazione laica del Vangelo. In ospedale ha letto “Morte a credito” di Celine. Nel racconto cercando di imitare lo stile di Celine, fondo assieme le cose alle quali sto lavorando, per presentare una ricostruzione fantastica della mia esperienza in ospedale.