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ALMIRA, Barbara Ziletti

ALMIRA Almira was a woman of about thirty, tall, thin, long, brown hair and green eyes like emeralds. He lived on an island of which he was sole owner and loved to be alone. He grew the 'vegetable garden, tended the animals and occasionally took the boat and went ashore to shop and sell their embroidery work, which until then had allowed her to live in dignity. He lived in solitude by choice, his parents had passed away some years before leaving this enchanted place. In this beautiful paradise we
was born and for the world would have left him. He loved the sea and his skin showed the hazelnut. The salt had softened her face and hair.
He had never felt alone until then, all the company she used was that of his animals.
He never demanded anything more from life. Not even love. She had always been convinced that his life would remain so forever.
But fate had a surprise for her Serbian
... That morning the sea was stormy and it happened when she felt restless inside. His mood was following the flow of the tides, the sea and you were one. But this morning was worse than usual.
Besides having a terrible cough that lasted for several days, he felt the fever. He tried to get out of bed and with difficulty reached the radio, which used only for emergencies. He had
medicines at home and the situation worsened by the hour. He called the coast guard
explaining the facts but was told it could not move because of rough seas.
there would be a doctor as soon as possible. He returned to lie down and began to rave for a high fever.
did not know how long it was in those conditions, perhaps hours, days. He no longer ate or drank, it was weak.
there stood a man tanned, dark hair, not physically beautiful and graceful, with thick glasses.
-I am the doctor, can you hear me? Da quanto tempo è in queste condizioni?
-Non lo so, non mi sento bene.
E perse i sensi.
Si risvegliò che era notte, l’uomo era ancora accanto a lei.
-Come si sente? Le chiese
-Mi sembra un po’ meglio, ho tanta fame.
-Le ho preparato una zuppa di cipolle, non c’era altro nella dispensa.
La mangiò avidamente ed iniziò subito a stare meglio.
Fecero così la loro conoscenza.
Scoprì che Albus era separato da alcuni anni e non aveva figli.
Si era trasferito in un paesino sulla costa per andare lontano dalla sua ex moglie che gli faceva continuamente dispetti.
Era bellissimo parlare con qualcuno, soprattutto con lui.. era un piacere che finora si era negata.
Albus si era fermato alcuni giorni finchè Almira non si era ripresa completamente.
-Non capisco Almira come fai a rimanere qui da sola e ti privi del piacere di stare in mezzo agli altri.
D’altro canto questo sembrava proprio un angolo di paradiso…
-Io adoro questa isoletta, ci sono nata e amo stare in solitudine. Comunque non sono proprio sola, ho i miei cani, i gatti, la mucca, i polli, le pecore, non avrei comunque tempo per socializzare.
Dentro di lei però sentiva che quello che stava dicendo non era vero, le mancava la compagnia di esseri umani e forse iniziava a provare qualcosa anche verso di lui.
Cercò di scacciare questi pensieri dalla sua mente ed iniziò a lavorare nell’orto.
Il mare era calmo, la tempesta si era placata ed il suo nuovo amico era pronto a partire.
-Perché non vieni con me? Potresti cercarti una casetta sulla costa.
-Innanzitutto io adoro rimanere qui, inoltre non ho soldi, vivo alla giornata e per me va bene così.
Dentro di lei sentiva che avrebbe voluto gridargli di rimanere, ma era troppo orgogliosa per farlo, trattenne le lacrime e lo salutò.
Il tempo scandiva molto lentamente, non era più spensierata come prima, il suo pensiero andava ad Albus… si era innamorata di quell’uomo, della sua semplicità, della sua dolcezza.
Decise di prendere la barca ed andare a scambiare i suoi ricami con delle sementi.
Mano a mano che si avvicinava the coast of his heart began to beat faster and faster.
was a feeling that he had never tried. When he had finished his negotiations Albus asked, the doctor and learned that the country had gone a few days ago. His ex-wife was ill and had to go to assist you. His disappointment was very strong and thought to have lost it forever. He decided to hole up on his island and never would leave. She would never let anyone hurt her, especially to a man!
The days went even slower and sad, and plunged into the darkest depression, until one day he sighted a small boat horizon.
Who could it be? When the figure
was the closest he realized that it was Albus.
Beside him were two suitcases.
froze. Almira-
Hello, can I come live with you?
He did not know what to say and gasped. Stuttering
said
-Sure, sure, but your wife?
-I'm sick of my ex-wife. He trimmed a lie, yet another, saying he was seriously ill, but it was all staged, as usual! Almira, I realized I could not live without you, I think of you at any time of day or night.
The smell of your skin, your hair, your sweetness .. please tell me that you feel something for me! The tears rolled down the
viso scarno.
L’amore era arrivato anche nella sua vita, finalmente.
Nonostante conducesse una vita in rigorosa solitudine, Dio aveva fatto in modo di farle incontrare comunque l’amore e ne era felice. Benedisse quella cattiva influenza.
Si baciarono ed iniziarono la loro vita insieme.
Vivevano di quello che producevano e ogni tanto andavano sulla terraferma per fare dei baratti. Erano sereni e felici, soprattutto quando arrivarono i loro sette figli.
Dovettero decidere di trasferirsi sulla costa, avrebbero tenuto l’isola per le loro vacanze.
Quando Albus le mostrò la villa sulla costa Almira rimase stupefatta: lui era ricco e non glielo aveva mai detto. Lì ci sarebbe stato posto per tutti, anche per animals.
Despite the wealth would continue to live in simplicity and modesty, they do not interested in money. END

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From this world to another.

I express myself freely.

I feel free and pure,

without fear.

What a beautiful dream!

Barbara Ziletti

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TEARS of THE DREAM Ilenia Lazzarin Ilenia

LACRIME


Cadono lacrime come
gocce di pioggia e
si addensano in
nere pozzanghere di
vita vissuta!






se volete divulgare questo scritto siete liberi di farlo, citando l'autore e non alterando nè la forma nè il contenuto.

Ilenia Lazzarini

What Kind Of Hair Dose Lauren London Use

LEOPOLDO the sparrow Lazzarini

LEOPOLDO IL PASSEROTTO


In un pesino di campagna c’era un vecchio cascinale, dove i passeri solevano nidificare. Ed è qui che ha luogo la nostra storia ………

Leopoldo era un vivace Sparrow, who lived in a nest with mom, dad and three siblings.
The days passed very quiet and serene; mother sparrow was in search of food for its young that ENTITLED chirping happily.
One morning, however, the nest was all in turmoil, this would be a great day, the sparrows would learn to fly. Mama sparrow sat in his little row on the ledge, that Leopold was the youngest stayed last. Leopold watched the brothers take flight and hovering in the sky carried by the wind, one, two, three, all the sparrows and flying Leopold called loudly: "Come Leopold is beautiful, you see wonderful things from here." Leopold felt rather frightened and paralyzed, unable to move a single muscle of his small little body, mother sparrow came to him and reassuring voice told him: "Do not worry dear, if today you do not feel ready cloves to your first flight tomorrow .
The next day, and for many days to come Leopold was unable to fly, the brothers who were now flying the experts in the art of song and laughed at him. Leopold was lonely, sad and discouraged, he spent his days watching the brothers fly free and happy in the blue sky and asked his mother: "Mom Why I can not fly?" And mother always answered: "To each his own time Leopold. "Leopoldo but did not understand the words of her mother until one night while he slept he had a dream.
Leopoldo awoke the next morning in good spirits and finally managed to take flight, flew all morning and when returning home for lunch, my mother came and said, "To each his own time, Leopold." And Leopold hugged his mother and said, "Now I know what mom meant by that phrase!"

This story is dedicated to you children, you would like to forge ahead in your life and may already be large and your moms and dads who know how to patiently and lovingly help you grow in respect for your time.

IF YOU NEED NOT DISCLOSE THIS SCRIPT alterations in the form and content

Ilene Lazzarini

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MATERNITY' Ilenia Lazzarini

MATERNITY '

BOUQUET OF COOKIES AND COFFEE '

OF CUDDLES between you and me.

WE ONLY UNTIL THE HOUR OF,

IO OUT AND YOU INSIDE OF ME.

Ilene Lazzarini

White Snot-like Cervical Mucus

CATERINA, Milena Ziletti

26.08.2009

CATHERINE

Hello everyone. My name is Catherine. I was born in 1900. Then there were many people who looked with fear at the end of the century just begun. They thought the end of the world: in 2000, which saw so far yet so near and nefarious. They did not know that the end of the world for every human being is different, because everyone learns at the end of their lives: each of us carries his own end of the world.
When I was born there was great celebration in the family, because Mom Rosa, before me, had lost two children and her father Louis and all the relatives saw me as a miracle. At that time
mother Rosa was already old for the first child, his 26 years of marriage after 5, is completed with my birth. The happiness was short lived because they soon discovered what I was fragile and delicate health, I had trouble rspirare and a simple cold was enough to aggravate my health. Mamma Rosa is not demolished by these problems and confront them with all the remedies known in those days. A
Peter was born two years later, my little brother who, unlike me, bursting with health from every pore. While I grew up surrounded by every care, just as Peter did, and within a few years seemed to him the greatest of us. I ate little, but he could not get enough.
In five years, Peter moved the couch, which until then had stayed with me in the same room. This gave me a bit 'of pain and I felt more alone, but he could not stay in that room always full of vapor so intense that helped me to breathe.
six years that I was sick for the first time very seriously. I remember being at the window and looked at Peter, who was playing with other children. It was a beautiful late summer day and the weather was wonderful. His mother had taught me that I could not run as they did other children, because I was sweating, and a fatal blow air could myself. That afternoon I was clinging to the glass of the window and looked out of those kids in shorts that run and jump like foals and I realized that my mother looked at me strangely. He understood what I was missing the outdoor life and contact with other children. He decided that if I did not go out and over the yard. He put his socks, the hat and made me sit in a shady place.
how beautiful breathe that air cleaner, hear the cries of children playing, the singing of birds and other animals. I got lost in that mix of sounds and smells so much that I hardly breathe weighed. It was a beautiful day that. Peter and the other children were playing near me and my head was spinning so was the joy of that moment. At dinner that evening, I ate everything I had into the pot, it seemed to be another girl.
Then at night I started to cough. My mother heard me and ran on me. I always wondered how he knew well or if I had some problems breathing, shortness of breath because the first was right next to me. I had a fever, difficulty breathing and coughing. I remember that I vomited everything I ate for dinner. Mamma Rosa boiled water, and those infused its way into my gasping in breaths. Then I rubbed ointment on his chest with that strange that pinch my nose and eyes, I covered her with another blanket and then took a chair, sat next to my bed and held my hand in his. I felt that he prayed and relied on S. Catherine and I heard whispering "S. Catherine helps my child. " How many prayers and invocations to St. Catherine I heard during my short life. I was in that condition for two weeks. My mother never left my hand, thought to forward to me a bit 'of his life and was afraid that if he had taken, the flow could be interrupted. Meanwhile, Peter's father Luigi was thinking, I washed, gave him food, in short, trying to continue the life that they all possessed. Every now and then went into my bedroom, looked at me with tenderness e guardava sua moglie che soffriva per la sua bambina. Allora appoggiava una mano sulla sua spalla e le baciava i capelli e si sentivano uniti più che mai nel dolore. Anche Pietro veniva a trovarmi e faceva ogni sforzo per rimanere seduto un po’ con me. Ricordo i suoi occhi così grandi che mi guardavano in quel letto, e non ho mai capito cosa vedesse in me realmente.
Venne anche il dottore che mi picchiettava sulla schiena, mi premeva la pancia, mi guardava in gola e poi usciva a parlare con la mamma.
Non so se fu un miracolo o le cure costanti della mamma, ma un po’ alla volta mi ripresi e tornai come prima.
Certo dovevo rimanere in casa e la mamma escogitava ogni gioco, canto, lavoretto pur di non farmi pesare la situazione. Cominciò also taught me to read and write, and I liked a lot more than draw or paint.
The months and years dragged on without too many ups and downs. Peter grew strong as a bull, so Dad used to say, while I was growing more and more little and breathed with difficulty.
Every day on my plate were the food tastier, more nutritious food that I tasted only. Were not wasted however, because Peter was always willing to finish them.
I am also amazed his behavior: out of home, with his companions, was a typical tomboy, but at home, walking almost on tiptoe, not screaming and treated me as if I could break into his hands. Now I know it was a sensitive child che mi amava e aveva accettato la situazione.
La finestra era diventata il mio occhio sul mondo e guardavo lo svolgersi delle stagioni. In primavera Pietro mi portava il primo fiore che vedeva sbocciare, poi il primo gambo di grano mautro e la foglia ingiallita staccata dalla quercia, ed in inverno entrava in casa di corsa con un ghiacciolo per farmi toccare quanto fosse freddo.
Quegli anni furono una pena per tutti, anche se tutti facevamo finta di niente, ma non era quella la vita vera, per nessuno di noi.
Avevo dodici anni quando mi ammalai molto seriamente, ed io capii subito che non era come le altre volte: questa volta era diverso.
Fui nel mio lettino e di nuovo quei forti odori pungenti mi ricordavano come era stato sei anni prima: si repeating everything the same way, but I was much more difficult to breathe.
vapors, poultices on the chest, the prayers and invocations to St. Catherine, everything seemed to be useless.
Mother, next to my bed, holding my hand in his. How many days had passed? I had lost track of time. Every now and then felt a voice, a sound, a noise but does not make out, the only constant was my mother's hand that held mine.
At one point, my breathing seemed to stop and my mother even more squeezed my hand, seemed to say "do not leave, not yet, still have a little 'me." And I did everything to please her, but when it cost me pain! And some were "Them". Many children were watching me, I aspettvano. They were near a road so that light could blind me. They were waiting for me, and I was ready to go with them, they were so beautiful and serene. Do not say anything, they were there, when I was ready for them. I do not know which was the passage of time, if it had been minutes, hours or days, for me did not matter. Each time you add more children, and seeing that late, sat on the edge of the street light waiting patiently. On one side stood their
that I send every good feeling, the other was the mother who did not want to leave me, and I was torn, I did not know what to do.
Intanto, ogni respiro che facevo era un dolore immenso, ma la mamma, la mia dolce mamma, mi voleva ancora con sé. Io volevo andare con quei bambini che mi aspettavano ma non volevo dare un dolore così grande alla mia mamma. Così tenevo duro, e con quel grande dolore nel petto cercavo un respiro dietro l’altro. Vedevo le sue lacrime, sentivo il suo dolore che era ncora più grande del mio perché l’aveva nel suo cuore e ce la mettevo tutta per resistere: solo per lei.
“Mamma, perché non mi lasci andare? Perché mi fai soffrire così?” Non so se lo pensai soltanto, ma lei lo capì. Capì che il suo amore doveva essere quello più grande, capì che era giunta la mia ora ma non ci riusciva a lasciare quella mia mano sempre più fredda.
“Amore mio, ovunque andrai, non sarai mai lontana da me.” Questo mi disse e mi lasciò la mano.
I bambini, che fino ad allora erano rimasti seduti in paziente attesa si alzarono, sorrisero e mi tesero le loro mani. Non sapevo da chi andare: erano tutti così belli e tranquilli, ma non ci fu bisogno di scegliere. Venni circondata da tutti loro ed inseme ci incamminammo per quella strada così luminosa. Mi resi conto con sorpresa che non sentivo più dolore, che ero felice, che potevo correre, saltare, cantare e toccare tutti quei bambini: finalmente stavo bene ed ero felice.
Mi voltai indietro e vidi la mamma distrutta dal dolore, papà impietrito e with shining eyes, but Peter was smiling, he had understood. From that day
mother Rosa dressed in black and did not change color, and lived the rest of his life with the remorse that he removed his hand from mine, but had failed to understand that the gesture was the greatest proof ' his ill-fated love for that child.
Care mothers and parents all loved ones, losing a child, especially child is a pain that has no equal, but from here, we are all happy and we always give ourselves a bit 'of us, our experience serenity, but only if also you continue the life that remains on the ground without pain but with joy. Know that the love you gave us in our little life is servito a portarci qui. Adesso tocca a noi fare qualcosa per voi: amate, amate, amate.
A presto, mamme e papà di tutti noi.

Caterina

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VERDULANDIA

TITOLO: VERDULANDIA
AUTORE: BARBARA ZILETTI



Chi ha detto che la fantasia non esiste più?
Chi ha detto che i sogni debbano essere infranti?
Chi ha detto che il nostro mondo è brutto e terribile?
Chi detiene il potere assoluto di affermare tutto ciò?
LA TELEVISIONE…

Un giorno come tanti altri Marzia stava guardando la televisione, i suoi programmi Tracks were cartoons. Unfortunately
classics once, with a logical and a moral interest, but those boxes full of nasty words.
is with these commercial industries that operate children.
that day were broadcasting a new episode of SPACE EXPLOSION.
While devouring his popcorn at the screen (he swallowed everything without even realizing it) heard a big bang and found himself surrounded by a white light.
not made even realize what was going on was over in television, became a heroine of the episode: GREAT
March or GM.
From the screen watching the thousands of children who in turn were watching TV.
looked like an army of robots.
Their mothers cried, talked, he crawled in any way to communicate with them, but to answer, like zombies continued undeterred to observe the screen.
At that moment he realized the strange hypnotic power that television had. As I express these thoughts
a giant red pepper was the launching of the fireball.
was in a war between the inhabitants of the Earth (of which she was the representative, or queen) and vegetables.
vegetables were always the enemy of children, hated them, and this hatred as they grew they acquired power.
Now they were almost invincible.
Marcia began to flee not knowing what else to do.
He hid in a cave, underground and stayed there for a while 'time.
Meanwhile, the vegetables were taken over the planet trying to subdue the population.
These were carried out in secret to prepare like real soldiers, with a lot of training and were now able to conquer Earth.
How was this possible?
Each time a child sat in front of the screen allow others (in this case the cartoons) would use the imagination in their place.
Every child who did not use the imagination allow the vegetables to take power.
With thousands of children in front of the screens did not take long to become invincible.
Now all the people worked as slaves and the planet was renamed VERDULANDIA. Not knowing what else to do
Marcia began to dig into the ground until he found himself on the other side of the Earth.
Here the landscape was quite different: it was surrounded by a grassy expanse of yellow grass and dry, a few trees here and there and many wild animals.
was in the African savannah.
There were no televisions and children played with each other carelessly.
suddenly jumped because the color of a small child he was tapping his shoulder.
He said something but she could not understand the language.
Then he took her hand and took her next to a bush with red berries e le fece cenno di mangiarne una.
Con molto timore la raccolse, non appena l’ebbe inghiottita si ritrovò a comprendere e parlare perfettamente la lingua del piccolo:
-Ciao, sono Wapi, tu chi sei?
-Ciao, sono GM Grande Marzia, ma mi puoi chiamare semplicemente Marzia.
-Cosa ci fai qui nella savana africana? Da dove arrivi?
-Sinceramente non so proprio cosa risponderti, stavo scavando per fuggire dal mio mondo e mi sono ritrovata qui.
-Perché fuggivi?
-Perché le verdure si stanno impossessando di questo pianeta e io devo riuscire a trovare una soluzione.
-Cosa sono le verdure?
-Ma come, tu non le conosci? E di cosa vi nutrite?
-Di carne e di insetti, a volte di bacche, qui non c’è niente altro.
Marzia spiegò brevemente cosa fossero le verdure e tutto ciò che le era accaduto, mentre Wapi rimaneva estasiato ad ascoltarla.
Una cosa sola non era riuscito ad immaginarsi: che cosa fosse una televisione!
Aveva compreso solo che era una grossa scatola contenente delle persone piccole piccole e nella sua innocenza non riusciva a comprendere che tipo di minaccia potesse rappresentare per l’umanità intera.
Una scatola che conquista il pianeta?
Stentava a crederci e la ritenne una cosa buffa.
Anche Marzia pensandoci si rese conto che nel tempo le persone avevano attribuito ad essa troppo valore.
La TV stabiliva la moda, i valori, dispensava notizie, true or false as they were, in short, the TV ran the life of every individual.
was absurd.
Wapi interrupted her thoughts and beckoned her to follow him.
It was getting evening around a campfire and there were many children with an elder who told stories.
The children were fascinated by his stories. Marzia
sat down beside them and listened ...
"Once upon a time in a place far away a white people while having enough food waste. The food being alive
saw it all, did not understand why these people do not use it and felt useless.
So he decided to observe them better.
They sat at a wooden table always set to small box containing a funny little men who told them a bunch of nonsense, such as how to dress, how to act, announcing disastrous news and not true ..
They believe everything they saw and felt and never question that.
Over time, this box had become a kind of "sacred oracle," would do anything to enter in, even for a moment.
The food that laziness was extracted from other big box was inserted directly into the oven frozen, so time could be used to look at the sacred box.
food that nature had put at their disposal and that was never used was called fruits and vegetables.
The children did not know what it was because their parents had never told them of its importance and in time he forgot.
was so that the vegetables to attract their attention she decided to enter the "sacred box" and work slowly began to conquer the world. "At that moment a
Marzia was all clear.
He had to return to save the Earth, had to shout to the world of eating vegetables and fruits, especially children, only in this way the plants themselves would have felt gratified and would have stopped to rebel.
returned to the place where he had dug the hole, went in and found himself on the sofa.
He opened his eyes slowly and realized have dreamed of.
So this was the fantasy?
was something that his mind was capable of creating and receiving also found pleasant.
From that day on the TV switched over and began to read many books and of course forced the mother to cook the vegetables from that moment he did not fail over from the kitchen table!
not allow to give too much power to a "box", but use something that is FREE: imagination!

END
The total or partial reproduction of this work is provided free and encouraged non-commercial purposes, provided that the author is cited and that this statement is preserved

Best Initiations Ever

PRIEST OF THE MOUNTAIN, Barbara Ziletti

TITLE: THE PRIEST OF MOUNTAIN
Author: BARBARA Ziletti
There was a priest in a small mountain village named Don Stefano. The classic
priest with the long dress and black hat on.
He was loved and liked by all.
His typical day was like this: wake up at 5, breakfast, prayer, mass at 6 for the women of the country.
Then went out to stroll around the village distributing a bit of joy to everyone he met.
one of her smiles was enough to make you feel better.
Anyone had a problem was addressed directly to him. Mery
One morning, a girl of nineteen years, the came up with to make suspicious.
"Come father, come here in the henhouse, I must speak."
Don Stefano, amazed at his request he thought of something bad.
entered the house and surrounded by the hens began to speak.
"Father, I have a very serious problem."
"Tell me, dear girl, what is it?"
"I do not know where to start. Well here .. I'm pregnant. "
" I see, I do not think something so ugly, you can always get married, and who is the lucky one? "
" It's not that simple "
" Why? "
" Well, you see, man which is advantage me, without my permission is married and has children of my age. He is a person in sight in the country, he gave me money to go and have abortions, but I do not know what to do. I'm four months pregnant, I can not have abortions. "
"My dear girl, what can I say? Does your family know something? "
" Absolutely not. My dad would kill me and my mother would look at me more, I'm so ashamed! "
" You have someone who can help you? "
" I do not own anyone, do not know how to do. "
" Let's do this: I come home tomorrow I talk to you and your parents. "
"No, I beg you father, do not do it, poked di casa e non saprei dove andare.”
“Non preoccuparti. Dio vede e provvede sempre. Ora stai tranquilla e vai a casa. Ci vediamo domani.”
La ragazza se ne andò piangendo.
Poco lontano Maria, la pettegola del paese, passando li vide uscire dal pollaio e la sua fantasia iniziò a galoppare..
Li aveva già visti amanti e dato che il prete era un bell’uomo aveva già deciso che il loro era stato un incontro amoroso.
Corse subito a riferirlo a chiunque incontrasse per il paese, quando una notizia può danneggiare qualcuno, le malelingue la fanno circolare velocemente..
Dopo nemmeno due ore in tutto il paese non si parlava d’altro e i genitori di Mery la stavano aspettando furiosi.
began when the girl returned to rant against her without giving her no time to explain and in half an hour was thrown away.
Not knowing where to go went to Don Stefano.
told him everything and he thought the best solution for both.
The next day was Sunday and the church was packed.
When he entered the holy place, people started to mumble.
It took courage and began the holy mass. When it was time the homily he explained the whole truth and people were terrified.
With the simplicity and clarity, but also courage and coolness, he told them the plain truth.
The mayor, wealthy person the country, stood up and began to give the priest a liar.
Beside him his wife did nothing but good to give the little girl poked her head out of the sacristy and said
"After putting out, I will explain everything."
After Mass in the square and went out.
She was there, surrounded by the crowd and began to explain.
"You should know that it was the mayor to take advantage of me! And he did it against my will! But I will not give up my baby for that.
Don Stephen offered me a job here in the parish, and I intend to accept, at least until the baby is not growing. None of you is bothered to ask how things went ssiano.
You are all evil and full of prejudices. You should learn the goodness from your pastor, you do not deserve someone so good. "
The mayor took his wife by the arm and dragged her away. No one saw them more. Everyone wanted to Mirko
well, the child that Mery was allowed to come into the world and of which he had never regretted it.
Grandparents were proud of him. From
great Mirko would take the place of Don Stefano, would become a priest.
Who better than he knew the compassion?

END
If you want to share with others you can do this work do not forget to quote me as a writer and leaving its shape and content. Barbara
Ziletti

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THOSE MOUNTAINS NEAR BUT FAR, Grillo Emma

The following poem is that of a crystal child of 11 years, the daughter of parents indigo.
In its total simplicity shows the will to live and a desire to find the positive and the beauty even in the simplest things and especially the great enthusiasm for life.

to you ... Know that the interpretation was in the literary prize Vallespluga anonymously among hundreds of poems by adults and has been selected for inclusion in the anthology of literary prize.
If you want you can spread it, without altering the form and content by including this quote:
taken from: Anthology of Literary Prize Mountain Vallespluga 2008, Montedit 2009.
Ziletti Barbara

THOSE MOUNTAINS NEAR BUT FAR

'm home, I see the mountains towering in the sky

seem a close but distant
are special but they are obscured.
There is the fog of the lowlands. Now I see
nearby:
as they are beautiful and fascinating, impressive on the small world
What is my farm.
I see, I see them, are right there.
The alarm rings.
Outside the open window in the mountains seem
close but far away.
It was not a dream, it's all true.
Hi there!

EMMA GRILLO

How To Name Deceased In Wedding Program

CHILD FOR CRYSTAL

This story was written by me and edited by Barbara Ziletti Station Celeste and distributed freely.
For a correct reading, type the following link:
http://www.stazioneceleste.it/articoli/indaco/fiaba_bambino_cristallo.pdf

Og Mudbone And Beautiful Woman

you who are reading ...

Dear fellow travelers, how many times
you thought to share your writing (sentences, poems or short stories) with others?
creating this blog it is my desire for you, to spread what you have until now kept in the drawer.
Being in contact with many sites, I will try to disclose as much as possible.
Anyone can publish their works, without distinction of any age (for minors need parental consent).
Each text must be sent to me via email: barbaraziletti@alice.it with segg.dicitura:

IF YOU NEED NOT DISCLOSE THIS SCRIPT alterations in the form and content (and your signature).

Of course we do not accept scripts that can harm the community or the civil and spiritual sense.

Once a month a winner will be chosen for each category: poetry, short sentences, short stories, of course ... and the prize will be virtual.

I wish you GOOD LUCK!

Barbara

Gallbladder Polyps Back Pain

cave Attila.

Above Cason di Lanza in the City of Paularo, step on the path that leads to the same name, near the Austrian border to Rattendorf, we encounter what is called the Cave of Attila. It 's a small crack in the rock that a stream, little more che un ruscello, s’è scavato nel calcare nel corso dei secoli. Una delle tante grotte che si incontrarono negli ambienti carsici, ma con un nome che la lega al grande condottiero degli Unni. Come mai? Cosa ha a che fare Attila con l’incantevole altopiano a cavallo tra l’Italia e l’Austria, tra Paularo e Pontebba?
Come si legge nella storia, Attila invase l’Italia nel 452 dopo Cristo, e dopo aver distrutto diverse città del nord, avrebbe distrutto anche Roma se papa Leone non l’avesse fermato al Po. Secondo alcuni ad incutere timore al barbaro sarebbe stato il crocefisso che il papa brandiva, alla stregua di una lancia. I soliti infedeli sostengono che in una mano teneva il crocefisso e nell’altra un nice bag of gold coins with which to redeem the Eternal City from a new bag. But disputes are of interest to historians ... What is certain, unfortunately, is that the first city to be destroyed by the new invader was Aquileia, and in some way related to this fact the legend of the cave with the step of Lanza.
From here, from this passage in fact, Attila decided to begin the invasion of Italy, because he knew there was hidden the sword of Mars, which would ensure victory in all battles and who took her. Jordanian historian to whom we owe most of the information on the life of the Hun leader, says that a shepherd grazing his flock was seen limping a sheep, and not understanding the cause of the injury, had followed the traces of blood left by the animal, finding the end of a sword on which the beast was tripped by burning grass. He then retrieved the weapon and receiving a gift brought to Attila. The latter, thinking he had found the sword of Mars, he was convinced that he was elected the absolute master of the world.
not know if it's believable story of a shepherd who finds it a magic sword, let alone know where the variant is credible for the fact that this would happen just in Lanza. I know for a fact however that here, on the plateau, according to an ancient oral tradition, now forgotten, Attila found the famous spear, as yet it is said in some legends of Friuli, was able to "impale many people at once." It was a magical spear that seemed to have an extension invisible. Allowed to pierce many soldiers in one fell swoop, but also to penetrate the rock and then to demolish buildings. Lanza's name clearly derived from a lance, is an indirect confirmation of the tradition and legend. And then you can confirm right here that Attila has found the magic spear. With equal certainty it can be assumed that he found the sword of Mars, and in fact did not become its own irresistible.
According to a reconstruction, not without difficulty, and after exhausting research, I somehow managed to put together, apparently determined that the situation was more or less this way. ..
It is clear that in time a magical being, who came perhaps from another planet, has forged for Guriùs working up here to extract the iron from the mines, two unique weapons, a sword and a spear capable of making those who used them invincible . But Guriùs were peaceful, they believed in arming the withdrawal rather than in that offense and did not know what to do with weapons of war. Unwilling, however, that weapons of mass destruction were used by others, held a council to decide what to do with it. Prevailed, the suggestion of the Druid who advised to purify, because their spell might not be known in the world and then hide them so no one could use them. We find an intelligent solution to purify them and hide them at the same time.
on the modern border between Italy and Austria, just behind the ridge that forces the drops of rain to take part in quite different ways: the one to fall into the Adriatic to the Danube while others end up in the Black Sea, was (and we still have it) a sort of small natural amphitheater, which emerges in a pool of water. It was a sacred spring for Gurius believed it had the power to restore peace in the spirit of those who drank it. The Druid proposed to immerse their arms, and then cover it all. L’acqua della pace avrebbe vinto per sempre la carica distruttiva delle armi. I Gurius rinunciavano alla loro pace per portare la pace nel mondo!...
Con una grande cerimonia alla quale partecipò tutto il popolo del Gurius, una notte di luna piena, di fronte al monte Zermula che brillava come fosse d’alabastro, deposero la spada e la lancia nella sorgente e poi, di giorno in giorno, le coprirono con tutto il materiale di risulta che andavano estraendo dalle miniere.
Quando abbandonarono l’altopiano, perché non c’era più ferro da estrarre, al posto dell’anfiteatro naturale, c’era una enorme montagna artificiale fatta con i sassi che avevano estratto. E sotto al grande cumulo c’erano le armi magical ... The fact should have remained a secret to those who are lost in the river of time, with the death last Guriut. But as he also said my grandfather, the secrets are like the smell of polenta, as you close your windows and taxes, it spreads out, and everybody knows that at home we eat polenta. In the same way throughout Europe spread the legend of the magical weapons of Guriuts, hidden plans of Lanza. However, despite continued research in the following centuries, no one could find them and could not even imagine the place where they could be hidden.
The news also came back to Attila, who, having decided to invade Italy took the opportunity to enter the House Lanza by step, looking for the magic weapon that would have made him invincible.
"If you have these weapons, I will find you!" He told his pace going up the valley of Gail. "If the fairies were so clever in hiding them, I'll be more clever in finding them." Indeed, when, just after the step, he saw himself in front of a huge mountain that seemed to sort the surrounding land as a result of a volcano, perceived that's what the fly was the hit of the cunning Guriuts.
"There are no volcanoes," she said to her. "It 's obvious that this is an artificial mountain. Dig. And, if it is not a fairy tale, we find the magic weapons !..."
then gave the order, all the soldiers of his immense army, to fill their helmets with small stones that had downloaded the Guriuts. The army began to move like a flood coming down on the lawns of Sweet Valley and then up to the step of Zermula and descend into the valley of Incarojo, passing the cemetery Celtic Minsincinis. As the army advanced, the mountains of Giurius, decreased. It was as if it were made of melting snow and you were the sunshine of spring. There were so many soldiers of the army, which soon appeared the amphitheater and the sacred spring where Guriuts had laid down their arms. The last steps, Attila wanted to attend in person. He was sure that would have been found le armi, e non voleva perdere il momento nel quale sarebbero riapparse…
In effetti, come si può vedere anche adesso, riemerse una sorgente, dalla quale aveva origine un piccolo ruscello che, dopo un percorso di pochi metri, si inabissava in una caverna. Dall’acqua della fonte, emerse la lancia là dove era stata deposta dal Druido dei Guriuts, ma della spada che avrebbe garantito l’invincibilità a chi la portava, non si trovò traccia. O meglio, si capiva benissimo che l’acqua miracolosa della pace, l’aveva sciolta. Si vedevano distintamente le tracce di ferro lasciate nella sorgente è nel ruscello che spariva nella grotta. Attila ordinò al suo scudiero nano di entrare nella grotta alla ricerca the sword. But they returned soon after telling that the cave was an elbow, but then broke off just a few meters, and water was lost in the rock to get somewhere ...
to anger the ferocious leader killed the dwarf with the spear piercing had just challenged. But the death of the dwarf did not cool off the disappointment of not having found the sword, which would make him invincible. You can imagine the expletives that has addressed the Gurius had destroyed for ever the sword of invincibility ...
still went down in Friuli, the bulk of his army, to give strong leading man who had sent on ahead and that for some months was trying in vain to conquer Aquileia.
"But what they should do the soldiers of the stones that have collected in the helmets?" Asked the generals when they were in the Friuli plain.
"Let's make plain in the hills that hid my spear," he said. "I want to climb to the top, from there to contemplate the burning of Aquileia, the first of many Italian cities we're going to loot." He pointed to a place in the plain between the rivers Cormor and Torre wanted to be called by the name of U-Din. It was the name of the squire who had just killed. Repenting of having killed in a fit of anger the dwarf who had cheered many evenings inventing the most fantastic legends, wanted which remains for ever his name. A name that would remember forever the wrath falls to the detriment of the person who feeds. The poor dwarf had no other fault than that of not having found a sword that you could not find because he had dissolved in the spring of peace.
While the bulk of the army, rising in the place indicated, he began to shape the artificial hill, reached the army Attila stationed around Aquileia. You just put the head by ordering a new attack on the city. With his magical spear demolished the north tower and poured them into the army breached the walls of the city, spilling over the surrounding countryside, a river that managed to make inroads into an embankment.
Let her have fun in the sack of the city, Attila rode back to the hill while his soldiers had formed, and climbed on top to enjoy the spectacle of the fire of the Roman city.
to legend, in the evening, is a dove out of the city of Aquileia, and has reached Attila, waiting on the artificial mound, to announce the start of the show. It can also be, if you want to believe the legends ... It is certain that he had given the order to proceed to fire at nightfall, he did not need ads to confirm that your order would be observed fact that night ... And the horizon of Friuli, in the south towards the sea, became a streak of fire. It seemed that the plain had given birth to a fiery dragon with a thousand tongues flapping between heaven and earth. Attila saw how that turned into a dragon and thought that the gods, making him rediscover the magic spear he had been given power over all mankind ...
But he had found the sword ... And so when he found himself before Pope Leo had the doubt that these were instead to have the sword of Mars, and decided to renounce the conquest of Rome. So I was able to reconstruct the facts. In truth Attila had begun to wait for the pope in provocative behavior, with one hand on lance planted in the ground and the other resting the hilt of the sword. But the pope, and showed no fear, he had planted in front of him with a similar attitude of defiance, pointing to a strange land throws that ended up with a hilt in the shape of the cross that led to the relief sculpture of a crucified man . The barbaric superstitious thought that he could also be a strange long sword, the sword of Mars, in fact, with the hilt adorned with the magical figure of a crucified God
... "this must be the weapon that makes it invincible," said the barbarian, impressed also by the imposing man who stood in front, which is no coincidence that he was nicknamed "the Great". Il papa per l’occasione s’era anche vestito con i paramenti sacri, portava un piviale ricamato d’oro ed aveva in testa una enorme mitria dorata e ornata di pietre preziose che gli conferivano l’immagine di una grande forza ed imponenza.
Come ho già detto, qualcuno sospetta che il papa avesse con se anche qualcosa d’altro per convincere il barbaro a rinunciare all’idea di conquistare Roma. Ma io ritengo sia stata proprio quella strano oggetto che il papa aveva piantato in terra a mo’ di lancia, a fargli cambiare idea. Attila non poteva sapere che si trattava soltanto di una croce astile…
A volte le convinzioni ci influenzano più della realtà…
Comunque, come siano andate le things between Attila and Pope Leo, is a truth that can only be of interest to historians. For carnici more interested in the truth that the castle where he sat, the Parliament of Friuli is built on ground meat. If this is not a symbolic figure to think about ... well, confirming that the meat has been rightly called the mother of Friuli !!!... To the inhabitants of
Paularo, and tourists who frequent the valley Incarojo may be interested to know more but the end who made the charge of the water molecules of the miraculous sword of iron Guriùts ... Who goes to plans Lanza, still comes across in the source which then filters into the cave of Attila, and can be seen without a shadow doubt, the residue left by water on the stones of the riverbed, as is actually water that carries iron. But to find the water ferruginous not need to climb up there ... The water, as has observed the dwarf of Attila, lost inside the cave, then filters through the rocks of Mount Zermula and comes out just below the hamlet of Ravinis, next to the cemetery of the Celts in Misincinis, E 'water that still has the ability to inspire peace, as was originally the source of the Guriuts and at the same time convey the strength that comes from the iron sword magic that continues to melt.
Who drinks one gets to use force in peace ...
It 's the power that men learn to use, not against others, but in peace with fellow human beings, with nature and with all creation, and to their own advantage and benefit. A force to be used to enhance their spirit of enterprise and freedom, which must be overridden only by the freedom of others. And 'the force in the past has made Paularo the cradle of many great entrepreneurs, starting with James Linussio.
For some 'time, (it's more than obvious!), The inhabitants of Paularo not drinking at the source of iron. They have settled very well today ... the water comes from a beautiful mask, in memory of 'home mythical water, but people have stopped drinking and then to absorb its magical powers, namely the ability to tune the force with peace ...
is to be hoped that young paularini, and youth who are in leave the valley, come back to make a habit to drink from this source, to make Paularo again a beacon from which emanates the desire of enterprise, and the ability to combine strength and generosity, a beacon light with which we once Carnia, as did James Linussio.

Signs That You Got An Infection From A Pedicure

closed for holiday.



macelleria mia ti riaprirò appena potrò.



ps
foto di Marcobillo

Solid Creamy Pregnant Cervical

by Melie vues.

early to hear the name, a shiver ran through his back ... By Melie Vues that language would be Amelia bone, made me think of a brute force capable of breaking bones, rather than skill which everyone acknowledges to replace the broken bones. In the valley actually Melie substitute to the department of orthopedics. When someone, for some accident, he found himself with a broken arm or a leg, or even a simple distortion, before considering the hospital, was normal to think of her, the woman who could mend bones and only if she suggested, for extreme evil extreme remedies, recourse to orthopedic care. Here it takes
Amelia bone, was the unanimous decision of all who came to see what I had done following a trivial fall of the bike. I was still trying to understand how that could have happened, almost stationary, the bike I had slipped out from under the seat, leaving me with one foot on the asphalt that had taken a natural direction for nothing compared to the leg. The surprise of the unforeseen and sudden fall, and the wonder that foot apart, took all my attention to the point that I felt no pain and the voices of the people I saw came as a faint hum.
I realized only when the situation arose from the buzz and defined the phrase in my mind: here it takes Bone Amelia.
Evidently the unnatural position of the foot meant that he had broken something, if everyone around me thought of the woman who needed surgery to repair bones.
I could say that I preferred to be taken directly to hospital. But in the end I was still a man of the valley, and the legends of the valley reported countless cases of people who were crippled or lame for not wanting to use the care of Amelia. It is said even in cases where the woman had to break back limbs that had been badly repaired in the hospital with terrible suffering for the unfortunate. I still do not feel bad, but certainly I would have liked to live the rest of life, with his feet facing out so terribly
In fact, all times in the past I had heard the stories of the legend of Amelia, professing to be skeptical and modern at the same time, I had always said that if ever (knock on wood!) I had something happen to the bones, I would appeal to the care of a specialist or not of a witch. But there, in the midst of the crowd rushed while I was still on the ground dazed and unable to realize how I could fall so stupidly, on the skeptic won the man of the valley. and accepted the proposal of a friend who had offered to accompany me in the car dall'Amelia bones.
I felt like that after the unbeliever proclaimed that all his life, understanding of being on the verge of death, accetta la proposta della moglie che vuole mandare a chiamare il prete. Si ha un bel credere alla scienza, ma quando non c’è più speranza, anche il tentativo più irrazionale acquista un senso!... E quel piede così fuori posto, per me che fortunatamente non avevo mai avuto modo di fare esperienze ortopediche, era qualcosa che aveva necessità d’un intervento miracoloso, per poter tornare allo stato naturale.
La leggenda di Amelia delle ossa veniva raccontata con mille particolari sulle sue caratteristiche fisiche, su dove viveva, su cosa faceva, su quando e come aveva imparato quella capacità quasi taumaturgica, di rimettere a posto le ossa rotte. Ma, appunto, era una sorta di leggenda... Erano elementi a cui avevo paid attention to detail that is given by which is usually staged in a fairy tale story of an imaginative storyteller. When my friend stopped the car in front of the house of Amelia, I realized that at least with regard to the dwelling-house, the reality beyond all imagination.
The plant was that of a typical house Carnian. Two very low arches on the ground floor and then a complex system of scales and exposed wooden balcony leading to the upper floors, which left just a glimpse of the stone masonry. In the midst of other homes refurbished and plastered it seemed really a bug of the time that he had forgotten to erase the memory of that strange ways of life have been forgotten. The interior was still more original, but I'm not describe, because what I would tell is not so much my first encounter with the Melie vues, what would happen next. In my first meeting turned out to be equal to the fame. I anointed his feet with ointment by the strange smells and I put it back into place almost without me pain. He recommended me to keep it bound to come back after a month because he wanted to see if everything was back in place.
While the insured that I would do everything according to its recommendations and that I would return for the visit, he interrupted to ask: "She 's what I hear, is interested in the Celts?"
"Yeah, I'm trying to collect legends that somehow relate to them."
"We'll talk next time." And so he left me for a whole month to think of original stories which could be the old custodian. A few days before the expiration of the thirtieth fixed for the visit, I went to ask her what time she wanted to see me well.
"At eight in the evening," I said no comment.
The strange house, the original old time unusual for a visit but had to be a doctor ... I confess that I went on strike in anticipation of the day fixed ... And there was good reason! !
Inside the house consisted of a grande cucina-sala da pranzo con un grande tavolo di noce in mezzo, un grande lavello di pietra sulla parete a sinistra con appesi ancora di secchi “cjaldìers” di rame con i quali si andava a prendere l’acqua alla fontana, quando non c’erano ancora gli acquedotti a portare l’acqua in casa. Di fronte si apriva un vano più stretto con il focolare al centro. Era un focolare di quelli di cui resta memoria solo nei libri, senza la cappa. Sui tre lati girava una panca di legno con lo schienale alto, e in mezzo, su un rialzo di un metro per un metro per l’altezza della panca, ardeva il fuoco. Mancando la cappa il fumo saliva libero per raccogliersi sul soffitto ed uscire da un una apertura che dava direttamente sull’esterno.
Al mio bussare, al mio saluto, aveva risposto con quello che m’era parso più un grugnito che il saluto d’una voce umana. Stava seduta sul lato sinistro del focolare e non s’era mossa per venirmi incontro, per venirmi a salutare. Non mi disse neppure di sedermi. Per togliermi in qualche modo dall’imbarazzo, chiesi se potevo sedermi. Continuava a guardare il fuoco, senza rispondermi. Lo presi per un silenzio assenso e mi sedetti sulla panca di fronte a lei, dall’altra parte del fuoco.
Inquadravo il suo viso poco sopra le fiamme d’un fuoco che ardeva vigoroso, tra il fumo nel quale si scioglieva la fiamma. Era segnato da rughe profonde. I capelli bianchi erano in parte nascosti da un fazzoletto nero che pareva only placed on the head with the ends bent over, as was still my grandmother. A large black shawl covered her shoulders and crossed in front by covering his chest. He was wholly absorbed in watching the fire and seemed not even noticing that I was gazing, he seemed indeed had already almost forgotten my presence, all taken from who knows what thoughts. I kept staring at her, as if staring at the details ahead of his image, and the smoke coming up between me and her was like a filter that always gave new and different shades of her face.
its image filtered through the smoke got lost as we lose ourselves in sleep while you are reading a book. Her image vanished in the smoke and found myself in dream ... Already hear the name, a shiver ran through his back ... Melie from that language would be Amelia vues bone, made me think of a brute force capable of breaking bones, rather than skill which everyone acknowledges to replace the broken bones. In the valley actually Melie substitute to the department of orthopedics. When someone, for some accident, he found himself with a broken arm or a leg, or even a simple distortion, before considering the hospital, was normal to think of her, the woman who could mend bones and only if she suggested, for extreme evil extreme remedies, recourse to orthopedic care. Here it takes
Amelia bone was the unanimous decision of all who came to see what I had done as a result of a trivial fall of the bike. I was still trying to understand how that could have happened, almost stationary, the bike I had slipped out from under the seat, leaving me with one foot on the asphalt that had taken a natural direction for nothing compared to the leg. The surprise of the unforeseen and sudden fall, and the wonder that foot apart, took all my attention to the point that I felt no pain and the voices of the people I saw came as a faint hum.
I realized only when the situation arose from the buzz and defined the phrase in my mind: here it takes Bone Amelia.
Evidently, the unnatural position of the foot meant that he had broken something, if everyone around me thought the intervention of the woman who needed to repair the bones.
I could say that I preferred to be taken directly to hospital. But in the end I was still a man of the valley, and the legends of the valley reported countless cases of people who were crippled or lame for not wanting to use the care of Amelia. It is said even in cases where the woman had to break back limbs that had been badly repaired in the hospital with terrible suffering for the unfortunate. I still do not feel bad, but certainly I would have liked to live the rest of life, with that foot turned out so terribly
In fact many times in the past I had heard the stories of the legend of Amelia, professing skeptical and modern at the same time, I had always said that if ever (knock on wood!) something had happened to me bones, I'd care utilization of a specialist and not of a witch. But there, in the midst of the crowd rushed while I was still on the ground dazed and unable to realize how I could fall so stupidly, on the skeptic won the man of the valley. and accepted the proposal of a friend who had offered to accompany me in the car dall'Amelia bones.
I felt like the unbeliever who after having proclaimed that all his life, understanding of being on his deathbed, accept the proposal from the wife who wants to send for the priest. It has a nice believe the science, but when there is no hope, even the most irrational attempt makes sense! ... And so that foot out of place, fortunately for me that I never got to do orthopedic experience, was something that was in need of a miraculous intervention, in order to return to its natural state. The legend of Amelia
bone was told with a thousand details of its physical characteristics, on which he lived, what he did, when and how he learned that almost miraculous ability, to forgive a posto le ossa rotte. Ma, appunto, era una sorta di leggenda... Erano elementi a cui avevo prestato l’attenzione che si dà ai particolari con i quali viene di solito allestita una favola nel racconto d’un narratore fantasioso. Quando l’amico fermò la macchina davanti alla casa di Amelia, mi resi conto che almeno per quanto si riferiva alla casa d’abitazione, la realtà superava ogni immaginazione.
L’impianto era quello d’una casa tipica casa carnica. Due arcate molto basse al piano terreno e poi un sistema complesso di scale e di poggiolo in legno a vista che portavano ai piani superiori, che lasciavano appena intravvedere la muratura di pietra. In mezzo alle altre case rimesse a nuovo ed intonacate sembrava veramente an error of the time that he had forgotten to erase the memory of the strange ways of life have been forgotten. The interior was still more original, but I'm not describe, because what I would tell is not so much my first encounter with the Melie vues, what would happen next. In my first meeting turned out to be equal to the fame. I anointed his feet with ointment by the strange smells and I put it back into place almost without me pain. He recommended me to keep it bound to come back after a month because he wanted to see if everything was back in place.
While the insured that I would do everything according to its recommendations and that I would return for the visit, he interrupted to ask: "E ' her what I heard, is interested in the Celts? "
" Yeah, I'm trying to collect legends that somehow relate to them. "
" We'll talk next time. "And so he left me for a whole month to think of original stories which could be the old custodian. A few days before the expiration of the thirtieth fixed for the visit, I went to ask her what time she wanted to see me well.
"At eight in the evening," I said no comment.
The strange house, the original old time unusual for a visit but had to be a doctor ... I confess that I went on strike ... and waiting for the day set There was good reason!
Inside the house consisted of a large kitchen-dining room with a big walnut table in the middle, a large stone sink on the left wall hung with dried yet "cjaldìers" copper with whom he was going to take the 'water of the fountain, before there were aqueducts to bring water into the house. Opened in front of a room closer to the hearth in the center. It was a home of those whose memory is still only in books, without the hood. On three sides turned a wooden bench with high back, and in the middle, on a rise of one meter by one meter by the height of the bench, the fire was burning. Lacking the hood smoke free to collect saliva sul soffitto ed uscire da un una apertura che dava direttamente sull’esterno.
Al mio bussare, al mio saluto, aveva risposto con quello che m’era parso più un grugnito che il saluto d’una voce umana. Stava seduta sul lato sinistro del focolare e non s’era mossa per venirmi incontro, per venirmi a salutare. Non mi disse neppure di sedermi. Per togliermi in qualche modo dall’imbarazzo, chiesi se potevo sedermi. Continuava a guardare il fuoco, senza rispondermi. Lo presi per un silenzio assenso e mi sedetti sulla panca di fronte a lei, dall’altra parte del fuoco.
Inquadravo il suo viso poco sopra le fiamme d’un fuoco che ardeva vigoroso, tra il fumo nel quale si scioglieva la fiamma. Era segnato da rughe deep. The white hair was partially hidden by a black scarf that seemed only placed on the head with the ends bent over, as was still my grandmother. A large black shawl covered her shoulders and crossed in front by covering his chest. He was wholly absorbed in watching the fire and seemed not even noticing that I was gazing, he seemed indeed had already almost forgotten my presence, all taken from who knows what thoughts. I kept staring at her, as if staring at the details ahead of his image, and the smoke coming up between me and her was like a filter that always gave new and different shades of her face.
its image filtered through the smoke got lost as we lose ourselves in sleep while you are reading a book. Her image vanished in the smoke and found myself in the dream ...
ran, before she and I, back on the trail that climbs through the forest hut ran .. but will move without legs, like two shadows carried by the wind, touching just Pedro. Before that I had once that path, to go to pasture and the valley of Crist. The trail rises steeply, I had a lot facita. Now flying as the path, without making any effort I was redoing the lightning speed with the same path. And in a flash I went with her that I was guiding for the second time in the alpine valley where there is Val. The last time I had hit the hut made of blocks of red marble, perfectly square. But now it seemed to me that the hut was gone .... All the valley at the foot of Mount Verzegnis, was lit by a strange glow like a full moon night, or rather in the milky light of the dark before a big storm. There was a huge crowd like that in a theater filled the entire valley and even in pastures high up in the rocks. Like when a spring meadow filled with flowers so that you can no longer see the green of the lawn. But they were flowers without color, of a dirty white, like lilies withered petals scattered in bulk before the rot at all.
My guide did not let me down in the midst of these shadowy figures, but immediately took to climb up the path Crist leads to the cave. Already in my previous trip I had visited the cave. Set up on the wall at the entrance of the valley takes its name from a crucifix that was carved into the rock. In the last century when he lived on agriculture, I read that she had been repeatedly pilgrimage to implore the rain, to restore the areas where the sun was already burning the poor harvests of corn and potatoes. There came a moment as two puffs of mist, the wind off the fog that fills the valley. And from above the valley seemed really covered with a lace of mist ...
There was someone in the cave that awaited us, as if our arrival had been announced, as if my guide fosse attesa, perchè aveva un ruolo nella scena che era stata preparata nella valle e che aveva fatto accorrere tutte quelle presenze. Non mi presentò, come se anche la mia presenza fosse scontata e normale. Cercai l’immagine del Cristo che avevo visto nella mia precedente visita ma non c’era. L’avrei dovuto vedere, perchè al centro della grotta era acceso un grande fuoco come quello che avevo appena visto nella casa di Amelia. Le lingue di fuoco si riflettevano sulle pareti rischiarandole e dando l’impressione che si muovessero. Non era più una grotta ma qualcosa di vivo come se la montagna fosse un enorme essere vivente, una donna gigantesca, e la grotta fosse diventata la sua vulva.
Senza avere il coraggio di chiederle nothing, I turned to Amelia, searching for explanations of what was happening to me. I do not know whether to answer or because it was part of the ceremony sang a mournful dirge as a "Dies Irae", and the valley echoed as if all the appearances that I sensed more than seen, populate the valley, would respond in chorus.
Fire god Lug-Belen,
penetrates the Earth Mother,
flaw vibrate with your love to come
generate
come into her mood of your meeting, and the bathrooms because
relive and bear fruit.
As if I had fallen asleep on a book and I wanted to see the book itself, I woke up, looking to fire at the home of Amelia, as if the same fire the cave of Christ. I looked around, surprised not to see where I had left on the bench opposite. I should call it, I should say hello. Instead, recalling the dream, I took the fear. I left quickly and quietly sure of one thing ... that I would not have done more to see in that house, from the witch, even in the unlikely event of a new fracture in the bones ...
then I thought many times about what had happened to me with Amelia wondering if I had made a "journey of the soul" as they are able to do men born with a caul. I do not know. Maybe she was capable of so much, and had used his powers because I could follow. Why had not I wanted to explain anything? Perhaps because of the symbolism was clear what had made me live.
Enore When my friend told me about when the child's mother took him in procession to pray to the Christ of Val, unconsciously led him to pray that God would make fertile nature. It was only changed the perspective. He asked the God of heaven to rain "Rorate caeli desuper and Nubes pluant iustum" "Still the skies above and the rain clouds do justice," my friend told me that they used to sing. Confusing the Right or the justice of the singing of Advent, which contains the words of the prophet Isaiah, in the rain. But in the end it was just an act of justice that was asked, demanding that non andasse sprecato tutto il lavoro fatto a primavera per dar da mangiare ai figli.
I Celti invece chiedevano che fosse il Dio dall’interno a fecondare la natura. Forse Amelia era una sciamana e aveva voluto portarmi a toccare con mano la continuità tra la religiosità dei Celti e quella cristiana, a farmi capire come molta delle religiosità celtica sia stata in qualche modo incorporata, prendendo forme e simboli cristiani, nel substrato culturale del popolo dei Carni.