Enlarged Uterus In Your Thirties

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is said to be a photographer who, when everyone looks first, instead of doing the same, starts watching everyone.

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'to uerra is' na crap. My grandfather used to say.

I here this grandfather I never knew, died a little before I was born somewhere but I retain his medals and I know that he spoke with knowledge of the facts. judging by the smears that have, in fact, doing two quick calculations, I realized I was in Libya in 1911, winning the fourth side, and then in the trenches throughout the duration of the Great War, from 1915 until 1918. the end is back with a series of metal crosses and also in one piece. But they told me that his grandfather was a quiet man, friendly but still a bit 'away with his head, as if the affairs of everyday distractions and what they turned in, and that only he knew, but it was really important . I think I'm done with the years of atrocities practiced and experienced in war, had to enter.

what he thought of the war my grandfather told me once that I was the barber. I was 11 or 12 years and my mother each month, ranging from Mary, the hairdresser who was a shop next door, leaving me an angel, just the barber. that place made me a bit 'in awe, it was all modern and full of sharp pitted black and white, even where no one understood why they put them there. every time we went inside I found the father of Angel, an old man badly dressed and his hair and beard neglected but I always smiled and greeted me, despite the fact that the age difference would impose the exact opposite. was a widower for a lot of years and is not that he had all this money, so if certain things had to do it alone. that's why he was always a bit 'scruffy. But the fact of his beard and hair, since he spent his days in the barber shop of his son, I did not really have never been able to explain.

was this gentleman once told me that he knew who I was, I was the son of the doctor antonio, good soul, which in turn was the son of Louis, God rest his soul, and I wore that his own name because I had taken from his grandfather. I looked at him without saying anything but you must understand that I was thinking that he was stoned. I was 12, not 2, I knew very well that bore the name of my grandfather. I know you know why you call it that, he added at that point, what you can not know for me though is that your grandfather was someone really important, rest his soul, because once saved my life. had to be a very religious father of the angel barber.

and it was this incredible story with him and three or four other youths of the country in October of '43, had been caught by the Germans. What to do? nothing, of course. the Boche had put down a little more basic, to the district Ianni, and since that day were turned in blank for all farms and could find no food, had decided that the time had come to understand these bumpkins, children and blacks , who commanded the Italian. therefore, mopping and shot, Addo Coglio grasp it. sti poor wretches had been taken of parents in the yard, less than a mile from my house, and there was a macabre negotiations began between the Germans and peasants. give us things to eat that you keep hidden somewhere, said the first, but we stink of hunger and we have nothing at all, replied the other desperate, nein, you are beautiful chubby, do not seem to die of hunger, drive out the stuff if for no these poor wretches, kaput, but that stuff as chubby, which c'abbiamo ribs that come from outside. In short, things were really gets bad.

happens then, safe in their farmhouse, the fonzo that are close enough to follow everything, including bad block, decided to run for help. and national, in front of their home, is passing at that moment, my father, who he went out for a ride with the mare. the young Antonio, ambush of the war, to hear what is happening, I think that there is nothing of going to look out and returns home at full speed. that's how my grandfather is in the income of the matter is, go find out why, he decides to go by genito, to see if we could find a solution.

what happens in the encounter between the man and his squad of Nazi corporal, the father of the barber I do not know how to explain precisely, he was too busy crying like a calf, she says, only remember the grandfather who was shouting and is not scary, not even the weapon that, at regular intervals, the Kraut's aimed at him. the old just do not know how but in the end it was the Germans went away and left them there and the corporal, he at least seemed so, as you were leaving with the truck, he made a sort of nod.

Angela's father does not remember what happened better than that but one thing he is impressed. when my grandfather came to the place, with the Germans who, seeing him get all breathless, shouting with his hands and made signs to attract attention, they pulled up all the machine guns and began to cry and maybe they too were well shoot In short, when Louis's grandfather was a few steps, looked around, spread his arms theatrical, dropped them back at your sides and then, with a face sincerely sorry, he said, 'to uerra is' na crap.

How Big Does A Ladder Need To Be

Tholos

enlisted in the winter for an archaeological excavation of an emergency. I remember him well have said no, I remember your words, do not talk, I told you so, so I can not explain how the fuck is that now I'm on the floor of a chamber tomb, dropped a rope ladder a hole in the ceiling, about three meters. to see something, about halfway down the stairs, was attacked a light bulb inside is all wet, but there are at least three degrees higher than outside. the benefits of tufa stone, cool in summer and warm in winter. how many times the crap you've heard it is? however is not true at all, here the temperature is constant throughout the year, is out to change that.

while I dig, I drench the pants on his knees and began to not feel your fingers from the cold. I would gladly talk to anyone but here there is nobody out there and only vincent.

vincent is a type roscio and big, which I think he was a child made him do obelix the school play. They're not really have your eyes smart, vincent, then it is a little talkative and even if you put that is French ... I do not know if I told you about my problem with the French. basically, my problem with the French language as I understand, is that I do not know.

vincent not know Italian, but at the end of his daughters who cares, he's standing in the warmth of your duvet to smoke cigarettes and when I call, vincent, I say, he should just take the rope pulley and pull up the bucket. then it is not just a bucket. is a kind of half metal bin with a handle that is attached to the rope. from full will weigh about forty pounds, stuff that only a well-placed as the French can pull it up. and we must also make the commitment.

fact, a couple of times it has happened that I had called a little ' too fast, vincent, I said, and then I have not had time to grab the bin that he had already started with the first tug, flying literally feet in the air. or at least I guess so, that from here down has only heard a strangled cry of sorts, a large thud and then Vincent spoke of the sea. must come from a fishing family or something like that, vincent, because every time he comes up with the sea I'm here, the sea or something like that, is to say all the time.

in my opinion has convinced me to do it on purpose, just to laugh behind his back, but I I would never, that is, to laugh I laugh But not so mean to him flying to the ground every two to three only to pass the time. Oh well 'maybe I'd do it but he better not say it to him.

while I used to scrape off another clod of earth from the wall with the trowel, then that would be just a small trowel, but if you call her trowel, longer indiana jones, in fact you start to see some kind of incision in the tuff. I work a bit 'close and I understand that this is a sign. when, a few minutes later, it's all clean, there are heart pounding, anxious to understand it and already I feel a new Champollion, the one who understood what the hell they meant those mammozietti in hieroglyphics. well actually he was not even sure he spoke French and Italian, Oh well 'but were different times.

closely to see this graffiti is not it done so well, we read the same but is written over something that I do not know how to interpret. is written, napoleon 1809. and c'azzecca mo Napoleon in an Etruscan tomb? seems like when you go somewhere and, remember, leave us your signature. as if I were to write to me now, louis, 1997, and who the fuck cares that I've been here, maybe some of Napoleon, however, someone cares. maybe my friend at the surface would be glad to see this thing here. vincent, do it, and then I remember with a moment's delay the matter of race.

too late, when I can say something, then he would not understand why so much is in Italian, is already talking about the sea again. when it looks ominous opening, I am his nod to come down and I would explain why, but I can only come to tell him, Champollion Champollion, who, judging from how the obese jumps on the rope ladder, he must have thought that I'm insulting his mother. the fact is that he is so heavy and the lineup we threw himself so much dead weight to the foothold that we had fixed on the surface, assigns and Vincent comes down like a mountain landslide, touching the ground a few inches from me.

sincere thing, looking back, but he is also ridiculous, if not dead in the fall, for sure as soon as you take this thing here and kill me makes me want to pass the laugh. when ten seconds later starts to move, always talking about the sea, I have already on their knees, eyes closed, which pointed to the graffiti, putting this thing in all my hopes of salvation. The giant sits up but does not seem furious I'd like for him, no. even stop to watch and it comforts me a bit '. makes the face to question, we see that even if he knows how to explain this thing here that Napoleon has come to put an autograph in the Etruscan tomb. then approaches, take a trowel, he is the French and then trowel it sounds more exotic, and begins to clean better around. turns out that before the word is written napoleon us something else. the complete sentence is alive Napoleon, 1809. vincent chuckles a bit ', and for the first time since we've known, turns to me with complete sentences, I think, as he did in French, and then who knows.

looks around and sees the scale crumpled next to him. we are stuck here, at least until an hour between, at the end of turn, we will take and will help us out. vincent at one point slipped a hand inside his jacket and leaving out one of those metal flasks from an alcoholic, as seen in the old westerns, and I opened it offers, cognac, she says. I like the cognac now and in that situation, you do not know what it was all right a bit 'of alcohol in the body, but with everything that I've done this here, unless he first tasted it, the hell with me there seen drinking. vincet but basically it is a good laugh and understands my concerns is a long quaff sip in solitude, vincent go easy, I tell him that you'll be there definitely fallen into a child, did not understand, eh, vincent? very badly, in fact is something that you do not speak and do not even know it is relaxing. I know that you too think so.

memorable that time when I was a prisoner in an Etruscan tomb in wet the ass on the damp ground, sipping cognac in the company of a great French giant, with a cracked wall in front of the eyes with on the way, living napoleon 1809.

and if anyone is wondering what is the moral, well, it's easy, never go to a place where you can not get a drink. you never know what might be necessary to a good primer.

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return to Viterbo. it was like when you change home and then go find the new tenants of the old. the place is always the same one and knows every secret but, as far as anyone can be kind and hospitable, not that it feels less foreign.

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the opposite of a symbol of eros and thanatos

"Tito, you are not son of god,

but there are those who died in say goodbye."

"Dimac, who was unaware of your father, but more

you die your mother."

"with too many tears you cry, maria,

only the picture of agony:

know that life in the third day,

your son will return:

let us cry a little 'stronger

who does not rise again from death. "

" I weep for him what I removed,

slim arms, forehead, face,

all his life that are still alive, I see

off hour by hour.

son in the blood, the son in the heart,

and who calls you - our Lord -,

the effort of your smile

looking for a bit of paradise.

to me are son, dying life,

took you blind my belly,

as in the womb, and now in the cross

calls you love my voice.

I was not the son of god

t'avrei again for my son. "

symbols, by their nature, are all inherently impersonal. Before you even believe it or not, makes me feel that men can thus be simplified to become the opposite of themselves. thank goodness there are those like de andré.