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"Orchids" (detail)

Orchids is a silent dedication.
to a value that always fills my life, which grows like a flower to become fragile and precious plant, with strong roots and beautiful colors: Friendship.
to you that when you read these lines will understand, because between us has always been so, a simple understanding.
to you that you have made a sweet symbol, to wear on your skin forever ...

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"Trying to Fly" - (The beat of wings)

"The design of the project realized several years ago,

between University stands on a piece of paper.

traits arose spontaneously, as they had always kept in me.

Maybe because they were nothing but a mirror of my soul ...

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"ALIVE" ( A canvas for Emergency 2009)

Alive comes from a play on words, related to an immediate image.
Participating in a humanitarian project and paint for this, it means a lot more 'to create a work ... it is a desire to contribute to a peace plan,
spread a message that goes far beyond the appearance of a picture.
I hope to be successful with this picture, where everything takes me back to the request for help, the meaning of life, that is, only if surrounded with love.

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Christmas break ... but the imagination does not go on vacation

Dear "image", I wish all the explorers of the imagination to enjoy this Christmas , immersed in their personal and free interpretation of the parties.

imago2.0 back in 2011, first released on January 9.

soon.

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"Fusion" (Con - Fusion)

The picture comes from an idea created in ink on paper in 2001,
in a drawing that was contained in 'the symbol energy, the vortex wandering
of mixed emotions ..
so I decided to stop on a simple canvas, composed

and small ..
in its sad beauty who becomes the true protagonist

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"Looking into Rothko direction "

bands of color.

... the same warm tones of the earth. The same

a hot Africa, I bear in memory ..

some strings with a color look to a great master of contemporary past.

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"THE SKY OVER U.S."

"So many times I've seen those colors looked up to heaven, one thousand

others stood by without perceiving

start and end.

why I have often thought of wanting to stop in the splendor a moment, to perceive

mutations

movements and nuances "

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A word, a verse: Fifteenth - mood

mood (front humor) sm [from Lat. or aqueous humor-oris, der. of (h) umer 'be wet']. - 1. Liquids, water, and little shakes along the path from 'The curved branches dewy humor that almost gem, The rising of the sun rays refracted (Parini). 2. The medical doctrine dates back to Hippocrates (V-IV sec. BC) each of the four basic body fluids from which the body of man is right: is the balance in their health, and their ratio is determined various temperament ( sanguine, phlegmatic, choleric, melancholic or atrabiliare ), while the prevalence of one over the excessive stem the disease states. Hence the use fig. the term to indicate: The character, the character of a person.

Superb definition that gives us the vocabulary to step 2.

reminds us that every action we take is nothing more than a search for balance between feelings and cash equivalents, which is enough to give us a hint of remorse soaked for years, clinging to the words of Commons, rational and parapets from which to look pretend to understand, and our travels and mood changes.

As you read the definition of our fifteenth floor and in your gut starts to form a line, dig your head.

And here out of nowhere some old school concept, some rudiments of philosophy, or in my case, an old denture that moved in late burst than the mandibles of its owner, giving gait mechanics of the words of my old literature teacher in high school. Person of infinite culture and always placid mood, it seemed to me to have that balance between our memory Hippocratic organic fluids. Hardly choleric and sanguine nothing, it seemed at times to rely on his own melancholy , by choice, not necessity.

Years later, still caught in a changing mood exceptionally capable of passing the discovery of new enthusiasm to the most appalling apathy to have been found, melancholy is my soul mate, almost never by choice, but without her I could not give voice to that mood that comes to question the unquestionable.

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" Point of View" (with different eyes)

Some people look at, admire

other things .. not even see.

I always thought that we must learn to look at, teach the eyes to do so.

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greetings .....


Hello!
Saturday, December 18 at 20:00 dinner will be held wishes of the BBT.
those wishing to participate are asked to leave a comment within hours of Friday 15 pv
See you Saturday!

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.. more books, more free? How many of

December. The month of holidays par excellence. Just name it and immediately think of Christmas, holidays, desserts, wild shopping, gifts received and given wrong, the wrong people to whom we offered them and hopes that every December 31 we undertake to place the following year and who regularly try to forget for the next twelve months. But December is also the month of the fair small and medium publishers in Rome. An event that I look forward to finally become too, at least once a year, a manic shopping ... of course books. Of different books, I dare say, that is often inaccessible printed by publishers and written by authors kindly overlooked. Maybe because I was always taught to cheer for the weak, or that many of the books to which I have been particularly surprising discoveries of unknown authors, long ignored by major publishing brands, but I always supported these initiatives. The issue which closed on 8 December was the ninth edition, with more than 450 independent publishers for a total of about 16,000 titles on display. 16,000 books. I do not know what you think, but it is a number that at first I read with admiration, then with lustful pleasure, to reach an indefinite state of anxiety mixed with fear. We often talk about the number of readers in Italy (too few), especially when compared with the number of books published each year (too many), but if you think that there are still small and independent publishers heartened a reader hungry for new voices and a writer need some 'space for her, this other face a huge number of books published by small and medium publishers in Italy (in fact only one occurred at the fair) can only make me worry and doubt.

Do we really think that post makes so much more freedom in choosing the readers? Do the publishing industry increasingly pointing to the number, quantity and heterogeneity, while a "guess" sooner or later a best seller? But in this way is not in serious danger of drowning in a book among thousands of bad ideas? And how can readers orient themselves in this turbulent system? See hundreds of people wander around aimlessly in the middle of a carousel stand, brands and ideas, stopping with the same curiosity and uncertainty ahead publishers to "true" and "payment" (ie publishers seeking cash contributions to their full-bodied and incredibly authors were re-admitted to the fair), trying to condense a year of missed visits to the library in a couple of hours random purchases, can give rise to some random new player and that's good, but not in danger of losing many farcene future?

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... you read the last page of a magazine?

consulting one of the many studies on the percentage of "non-readers", we find that there are more than twenty million people in Italy do not come close to a book, even for use as ornament.

Interviewed on the ground that leads to "not read", the majority of the sample reveals that boredom is .

From obsessive compulsive reader and writer I find it hard to believe.

Wonder, involvement, disappointment, confusion, doubt, rejection , but boredom?! Not just boredom, especially if we compare a book and the mystery that is contained in it, one of the many television shows that often we subject ourselves, without thinking of the consequences: the hand that tries to merge with the remote, the only seat that becomes another pillow scattered on the couch, ears bombarded by excessive noise and haste, unable to counter the tight mouth, the mind set on standby, waiting for the roll of pictures and words changed standardized runs out, leaving finally go to sleep . We also turned off by a sudden gesture on that red button on the remote control, which controls and defines everything.

With the book instead we could choose our time, gestures and ways that the protagonists would have shared with us, leaving the visual definition to our free will, our uncertainties, our imagination, , as we attempt to root out, is always there, behind our eyes. Ready to turn a few lines of ink on a path which fortunately do not know the purpose or direction. So what? What is the true reason that prevents "non-readers" to make the leap into the group of "readers"? Maybe it is the division that takes place between these two groups to make them real and often waterproof. A sort of book - proof printed on the head of more than twenty million people. If each player, for him to describe the pleasure he feels in reading a book at some of the "non-readers" and then force it to listen to the reasons why the "non-reader" to deprive of this pleasure, we might have difficulty after a while 'to distinguish the members of each group and found that distinguishes them only a small and precious habit.

last page of a popular weekly of politics and culture lies a great contemporary writer of a book entitled "The bag of Minerva."

In its issue of December 2, the author speaks of "royalties", placing the non-simple question. "What have groped to read the individual who still want to do?"

"What books are equally essential for both a French and a Finnish?" "And what part are so Western cultural heritage from be perceived by osmosis, even if you do not read? "The reflections made by the author is very witty and there definitely recommend reading. We show how even large spaces of ignorance, even for so-called intellectuals, who are particularly attentive to the Western literature, largely neglecting the Indian, Japanese or Arabic, and making us discover that in addition to " readers" and " non-readers "there are also" readers ... partial .

Good reading.

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not talk about politics

do not do it, it becomes only a starting point for thinking about this ... and yet we like.

This morning I read a newspaper article written by the usual "socio-political analyst" that infest our media, a figure halfway between a journalist and a dowser looking for a source, albeit uncertain and artificial, of truth, before which escapes, breaking his stick.

Usually this character simply move back and forth within the area of \u200b\u200bdesert that has been assigned, the rakes, freeing him from the dead roots of the theories of his colleagues, the grooves filled with doubt, of course, implicit (not taking too much risk) and then seeding sand words to read and predictable general accusations and rhetoric, which are mixed into each other, leaving the reader in constant expectation of a flowering of ideas that have never existed.

Also the article I read this morning has not won truth to the reader, merely to summarize the main shortcomings of our political system: continuity, consistency, competence, reliability and last but not in fundo "wants to do."

Every Italian citizen, you will be focused, at least once on the same points. In discussions postprandial Sunday, during which a cigarette between his fingers and cup of coffee in hand, we all feel more capable and confident about our policy, dictating to our neighbor across the table, too full of food for dissent, the recipe to view to future generations a better Italy.

the same city, in front of this article will have sighed, saying to himself: "See, I said it yesterday: want to do, this is what is missing. "

will then folded the paper, thinking that he would rather avoid going to work, as has been pleasantly renounced his complicated family the loan, the line of school children, the scolding of the head, the races that is continually do to make ends meet, trying to please everyone, except himself.

And then our citizens will be angry, thinking about the blue car, to secret accounts in the Cayman Islands, with escort, to the feasts, the covenants to maintain chair and forget about the people, while the country slides down and nobody, not even our city, has more desire to do .

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A word, a verse - fourteenth: collect

collect (front and poet. Raccòrre) v. tr. [Der. to grasp, with pref. ra-] (coniug. how to capture). - 1. Lift, pick up or return from the ground or anything 2.a. Put together, gather, collect: r. money, mite, documents, quotes, examples, topics, news, hints, r. men, soldiers, comrades; b. capture, concentrate in a 3. Bringing together the parts of something wider, open or lying, then tighten together, fold: r. wings, legs, body, sails, rigging, nets. Fig: r. forces, thoughts, r. the mind, concentrate on a thought, in meditation.

That 's what often makes a writer picks up the word.

Nadine Gordimer, who, with his inseparable notebook runs in the South African bush to breathe clouds and words, choosing the most valuable to collect waiting for arrivals, the best in history where plant them and only then, with a little 'melancholy, let them go.

Haruki Murakami, author of the graceful nuances, which can glide with your fingers as a child on the emotions most inaccessible, extending the plan, we see him leaning on the white page waiting to spring forth the will of the people, then collects in small sentences, which remain stranded in his dialogues, as in a jammed roller of an old movie that we can no longer see, even though we love it, goes off immediately because the bitter memory.

Michael Cunningham, who finally breaks down families want to understand, give the reader, caught up in thoughts sharp. They make fun of words and collect, stacked one upon the other, waiting for the reaction of a character who never comes.

Ian McEwan, which defies time, sliced \u200b\u200binto precise words that collects around the character, a pyre ready to catch fire at the stroke of the will of the author.

Collect words, yet never enough.

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words ... Looking for "roads" by Enrico Remmert

Victor, Frank and Manu: the narrative voices of a journey from Turin to Bari in the company of "Baroness", an old Fiat Punto stolen at a driving school, a car with double pedals, to make it clear now that the story that peek between the lines of this edition of the book by Enrico Remmert Marsilio "roads" will have more of a guide.

Three fragments of the same soul will look angry all the way, alternating their points of view and their version of history for a route which is to Bari, but it could be to Timbuktu. Almost a world tour of several worlds, if you add up the many breaks in the spirit, the sudden acceleration of desires, faults and clashes of the words of reason. To everything there is as if you were tossed into that point, caught between Vittorio and Francesca, those no longer engaged, although neither has indicated his choice to another. A guide and lead us in this rambling trips that pass by the Po valley, you will dive Adriatic and make us jump from the Marche to Puglia, here "Manu" in its apparent simplicity: the friend, confidante, much closer to Victor that Francesca and then formally friends with it. Our Cicero will be chased by a young man far beyond the stereotype of the owner of big dogs, huge car driver and owner of oversized egos. Probably an excuse to escape, away from themselves, to be revealed at the end of the journey still there, more distant from each other, even through the sharing of some small gaps of time and judging that, perhaps, worth a life.

The final moves, you probably do not want to do and although in some passages the reader might expect a surprise narrative (which is not), it remains an interesting book.

I must point out the scene where Victor plays the cello in the snow, surrounded by mountains of salt "as tall as buildings." My mind has fled to some of the images on film Baricco Beethoven (Lesson 21), who knows if Remmert was inspired by the miracle of ways. We'd love to know ...

Good reading.

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A word, a verse - thirteenth: separate

see separate tr. [From Lat. separate, comp. se-"apart" and parry "make, prepare"]

1. to . Divide, separate persons or things close or adjacent, mixed, physically or spiritually united; b . Distinguishing , sceverare: s. the good from the bad; c . With reference to the dispute, in which people fight, get in the middle between them, to stop a quarrel or a fight; 2. ant. Stop, to end : a brother and a friendship sprang up between them so great them, then never be another case that was not separate from death (Boccaccio). 3. refl. Divide, break away, get away from people to whom it was related interests, ideas, feelings and activities.

from family, friends, themselves. I start with the meaning proposed by the third word of this week, the reflective, the selfish: "separate". Very often a synonym for legitimate, true. Parting from the socio there includes the company that we do not appreciate, comrade that sustains us, friends who do not listen to us. Parting from the mistakes that continue to make, in the hope that they become someone else and looking back, a few steps ahead, you can say, "How can you be so stupid?".

feel victorious because they are alone, not dependent on other human beings, but in need of their addiction. So that it can be said to be bound, controlled, directed and begin to separate .

Immersed in this loop emotional try to listen without ears have more available.

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Chapter 9 - Under stress


The morning came all too soon and with a sun lit and clear that almost hurt your eyes. Michael moved his hand as if to turn off the star during the day, obviously without success.
whined for a little discreet alarm and turned over the sheets looking for something to embrace, but not found. With a nervous puff lifted his head, looking around bewildered. Billie, of course, no trace.


With a groan he sat and passed his hands over his face, looking back, with a growing sense of anxiety, what had happened in that room a few hours before.
Yes, he had entertained your robot in the apartment overnight. He copulating with an android. Joining the act of sodomy was nothing to finish straight on the gallows, despite its status Peer of the Kingdom.
But was it really a crime to have a sexual intercourse with a humanoid? After all, since it was not a human being, could not be considered sodomy real ... or was it the act itself that was punished, no matter from which it was made?
So even if he had sodomized a horse, his noble neck would still be broken?
Maybe it was the case to stop asking dumb questions and delirious.
shook his head and realized that he needed to dress up their own butler.
And that was Bill Butler. He made
strength and rang the bell, I might as well cut to the bull's head and face immediately and directly. After a few seconds Billie stepped out the door in his usual confusing manner, but as always, impeccable in its elegant plumage.
Michael swallowed and stared blank in the eye - Help me get dressed. -
- Yes, sir. -
The Count asked Billie if you care about what they had shared the previous night or if he had already erased from her memory. Would wanted to ask him, but he was terrified by the possible answer.
So, taken by all those questions, left dressed in silence, while experiencing a degree of tension in the air, as Billie was never so perfect, and collaborative.
He, the robot more lazy world!
the end, after it had decided to just slip your shoes at least, the Count took his courage in both hands and began with firm tone.
- Billie. -
- Yes, master? -
- Billie ... You ... You remember something last night? - The android
soft wrinkled mouth, in what was clearly an expression of annoyance - Lord, I remember everything that happened around me is, I have a hard drive memory ... -
- Yes, Billie, I know. -
- So, if you know, what would you ask for? -
- Why are you a robot opinionated, that's why! - Michael snapped, frowning. Apparently, the impertinence of that piece of tin had not even been affected by the emotions experienced together.
- Well, since you say you remember everything, what do you get it? -
Then the other looked at him with an expression that could be defined only wonder. And also a bit 'idiot.
- Lord, I ... - Stammered with difficulty the robot.
Ah ha! You are in trouble now, you bastard! He thought the count with deep satisfaction.
- Lord, I do not know what to say except that ... she is very good, here. - Whispered cautiously. That speech was a potentially dangerous, both for the integrity of their own housing for the huge ego of its owner.
Michael raised his eyebrows.
- Bravo!? - Repeated skeptical - How do you say that I am good ? Had you perhaps have done with someone else? - Asked annoyed and suspicious.
- No, absolutely not! - The humanoid said quickly, shaking hands - No, no, that is ... So, to me ... that was ... well, I liked it ... Very much! - Stammered burst.
Count cocked his head to one side, narrowing his eyes. That devil of not told him about it the right thing.
Billie, meanwhile, managed to maintain an expression impassive only because it was not planned to escape the gaze of others, in fact, if only he could, he turned his head, blushing with embarrassment.
- Are you telling me the truth? -Mike insisted.
- Absolutely, sir. -
- So ripetimelo: How was it? - Billie
grimaced and swallowed imperceptible, but in fact did not have saliva to swallow.
- Me ... wonderful, sir. Never tried anything like that. -
Pritch still stared at him sideways, then shook his head - Come, I want to have breakfast. - And said this left the room, followed by Billie head bowed, and with eyes so wide open that it seems they saw scenes definable rough, even by the wildest of the libertines.
Those same eyes that at that time were fixed on the backside of his master and had absolutely no intention of unrivet from there. Undoubtedly he must have blocked some circuit ...
- Billie! - His name, by Michael roar, I awoke suddenly, so he raised his head hastily prepared to run away.
- Lord? - Replied with a flickering evident in his voice.
- Breakfast. - Reminded him of the mandatory count.
- Yes, sir. Breakfast. - Repeated the automaton as a trained parrot.
- Go to the kitchen for breakfast. - Insisted the landlord, with the patience reduced to historical lows.
- Yes, sir. -
Mike squeezed the bridge of the nose - I think what happened tonight has made him only more stupid. - Billie
nearly slammed against the door to the kitchen and was about to invest the housekeeper, threatening to chop the tentacles with their feet. The latter, of course, did not miss the opportunity to shout However, throwing all know and curse-word or even inventing new ones. Poor Billie, stunned, to escape the torrent of insults ran off, threatening to smash the tray in his hand and all its contents.
However, in the end, he could almost serve as a breakfast supplement to his master, if it were not for the eggs, as a result of the commotion, they seemed a little 'scrambled more than usual. The android
felt strange, agitated, almost as if someone had stuck his hands in his gear and had reshuffled everything without any treatment.
If he was human, he could have used a variety of words to describe their feeling, very romantic things like "butterflies in the stomach," but rather because it was made of iron, the only term that would make a good idea of \u200b\u200bhow he felt he was acting nasty .
Michael spent half the morning to ask if having sex with their robot had not been a big mistake in the sense that what happened between them the night before, seemed to have knocked all the circuits of Billie.
When he retired in his own office to open the match, Lord Pritch remained silent listening noises coming from upstairs and stumbled indicating that Billie, Billie, which smashed into the ground a Ming vase, and Billie stepped on the tentacles of Miss Tender, yet again, winning another string of curses. I mean, that robot out of your mind was wandering like a lost soul through the house, doing damage in profusion.
This is me getting out of hand ... He thought the gentleman rubbing his forehead, and then get up and step out in search of Billie, in order to prevent this disaster walking the destroyed dwelling with his carelessness.
- Billie. - He called once, twice, three times before we found him, intent on polishing the panes of a glass wall with a result rather questionable.
- Bill! - He shouted in exasperation.
- Lord! - Said they seized by surprise when it hit the glass door and threatening to smash it.
The count came towards him, but not realizing that the floor had just been waxed, slipped badly and ended up sitting on the ground, something which his sacrum was not at all happy.
- Master! -L 'automaton's rushed next door, slipping in turn, and cadendogli him like a sack of potatoes. Michael
patient sighed, trying to control the anger he felt inside because of salirgli quell'imbranatissimo robot - Billie, listen. Today I see very distracted e. .. -
- No! - He replied, putting on his knees with air task, but embarrassed - It 's been just a coincidence! -
- Do not tease me, you're worse than before and that says it all! - The gentleman snorted. Then, taking a deep breath, looked at the android and touched his cheek with his fingertips - now pulled up. - Urged him quietly, doing the same. Billie
miraculously succeeded without doing excessive damage, except to break a biscuit in a thousand pieces of crystal, which belonged to a distant ancestress of Lord Michael, who was on the low coffee table which was leaning to get up.
- Billie, you're really upset! - Lord Pritch said with conviction.
- No, sir, because he thinks? -
- Simple. Because so far, playing your homework, you were limited to only half-destroyed house. Now they're trying to destroy it altogether. What is it, Billie? You did not like what happened between us last night? You're so anxious for this reason? - Asked the Count.
The butler looked at him intensely, trying to make a sensible speech in his own mind, because if he had responded impulsively, he would no less stuttered so inconsistent.
- No. -
- How no ?! Michael-barked completely blown away.
- No in the sense of yes! - Hastened to clarify the automaton - are not upset because I liked it, but because I loved it! -
- And then ...? - Asked his master, more and more confused.
The android, uncomfortable, look away - I can not prove what he has heard you, sir, and therefore do not know if the emotions that I experienced the other night could be considered real and true as his. - Said the robot in a whisper shy.
- What do you care to know?! - Replied the count of the project, realizing too late how its sentence could be misinterpreted, resulting in completely tactless - No, sorry ... I explained badly. What I want you to understand is that you should not compare your feelings mine. What did you feel is yours and yours alone, is part of you and only you can know if you have involved or not, whether you liked it and because there is a benchmark, valid for everyone. -
The other seemed to think it over a second, then said quietly - So, for me, it was a wonderful thing. -
Michael grinned, laying a gentle kiss on the lips soft-D 'agreement, that's okay. Now stop being so upset and come with me, come on by Lord Coole. -
- Da Lord Coole? - Repeated the humanoid - Why? -
- Sant'Iddio, Billie, Edward is my dearest friend, it is obvious that every now and want to go find it! - The butler nodded
task and to refrain from further comment, although, in reality, it is also very pleased that Lord Coole. That guy was neither meat nor fish, neither robot nor human, and especially the study as if it was a delicious dish to try. Nevertheless
not refused to accompany his master, a little 'because the fear of being disabled, dismantled, sold, or who knows what else still circulate in the circuits, a little' because he would not contradict those who had made him touch the sky a finger, with just a glance.
addition that was an order to which, despite its polemical spirit, agreed not to rebel, seen the disasters that had already combined the morning and for which Lord Pritch had not even punished.
- Yes, sir. - Could only murmur, while Michael, a nod of assent, she left the room with a measured pace.
Billie shook his head as if to stir your gear. Suddenly a strange feeling had taken hold of him ... Maybe he was going mad? Can beat that ... the heart? Or was it a black out of that mass of wires that he had in his chest?
- Billie! -
- Check master! - Said to start at a brisk pace.
For once, he remembered even its duties by Butler and went immediately to prepare the car, getting angry glares from Tanit, the groom, however, that, while swearing to himself, he performed as Asked. Bill had always had the suspicion that the kind we had with him to death because poor little robot, he was at home, warm, with an elegant livery wore, while he put his arms touched in the dung horse every single day.
When all was ready, Billie was careful even to pose, on the jump seat of the cab, a blanket to cover the legs of Michael Lord in the case had been cold. Miss
Tender, the nurse noticed it and could not refrain from teasing - Ah! finally you decide to work! -
He did not answer, did not want to argue with the stupid digs and had no time to lose.
- Of course last night you made a huge fuss ... what you had to shake so much? We had entered a wasp between the bolts? I hope that Lord Pritch, one time or another, decides to send you to sleep in the shed. -She insisted acidly. The back of the automaton
stiffened suddenly. The hubbub of chatter in the home was due to the presence of Lord Michael in his room the night before ... quell'arpia possible that he understood everything? No, it was terrible!
- Yeah, it can be to do it sooner or later. - replied uneasily, painfully emerging from their distressing assumptions.
The housekeeper looked at him from under his mustache, which, despite a tentacled mutant had the same and that would require the aid of a barber. What I
that bastard is hiding metal? He asked Miss Tender furious.

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Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 7

Chapter 8 - Making Love




brought to your room had not been easy for Mike, as he continued to be the automaton a little 'unruly; However, this circumstance, rather than the contrary, had kindled in him a spark of violent excitement. Finally arrived at their destination, Billie pushed against the door of the bedroom and bit the skin of the throat. The android
sighed because, despite his skin was brief, however, was able to feel the teeth of the other stimulate receptors, which are scattered on it. It was a feeling that puts the chills and was sending electric shocks in its function centers.

Overcoming a good deal of timidity, the robot is allowed to move his arms around the shoulders of the count, leaving those human fingers crept under his shirt, and tap the latex formed his cabinet. He buried his head into the neck of Lord Pritch, warning their artificial tears sting your eyes, not a human being and not being able to love, but as they were able to do, I grieved deeply.
- Are you okay? - Michael asked, kissing his mouth pink and moist, and Bill could not help but nod and inexperienced to be led like a puppy, even if he wanted to cry do not feel that way, but you are an adult, like the man who had before.
Once rich in master bedroom, they dropped on the bed, the blond assault with passion the servant who surrendered and those with delight at the touch of his hands and lascivious of his mouth. After
was only the rustling of clothes and a crescendo of moans lustful, while Michael moved Billie winding up, exploring her body with robotic fingers and showing things that would never have even imagined. The kisses that rested on the neck, behind the ears and chest were the enormously exciting, sweeping each of its sensor and overload at the moment, making his center of control for too many unusual details that fell. The count saturated with its own essence, making him explode in a devastating pleasure, in the form of an electric shock as white as snow, through it from head to foot, shaking each logical process and unpack all files of his positronic brain.
Billie felt exposed, manipulated, vulnerable, powerless and enveloped in a fog muffled, that diminished his perceptions. It was given with all his being, guided by the hands and the words of his master sensual.
Instead, Michael had lived quell'amplesso so intense and almost delirious, recording every change of expression, every moment of astonishment on the faces of Billie and putting in every gesture, the whole transport as she could.
- Master ... - The sigh of the automaton, which he felt almost float in space, was like a prayer. Never, never in his life he had felt an emotion like that ... Lord Pritch had pulled up to a new extreme, making him to feel new and unthinkable for someone like him.
Michael, meanwhile, was totally on another planet ... the pleasure they had received, feeling tight in the body dell'androide, and battered him for a moment he found himself wishing that Billie was really be a human, knowing full well that this was impossible.
- Try to sleep, Billie. - Invited him, stroking his flat stomach and kissing her cheek soft like a peach.
- I'm sorry, but I can not sleep. - Piped the robot - I'm not programmed to do so -
- Close your eyes and think back on what happened. - The Count suggested yawning, and then embarrassed smile, the expression of her lover-What happens? - She asked softly.
Billie hid her face against his chest, humming - and 'that if you look back, sir ... Well ... I do not think that I would enjoy some pictures of what you humans call sleep . - Michael
exploded in laughter amused: no, in fact he would not be able to sleep, if he relived in his mind what had just happened between them. - Come here. - Added in a low voice and did so as soon as the automatic, pressed him against, leaning more to the pads, rubbed her back to relax and finally fell asleep. Billie, who had looked asleep, but was not lower eyelids and wait patiently until a hypnotic sort of torpor did not catch too.

Ok To Use Treadmill Upstairs?

The body of desires - October 23, 2010

Imagine a dark road to the edges of the city. Imagine a small gate that opens on it, inside a court that seems to absorb in a different time, in a different location.

Imagine a rectangular ballroom, located on the edge of the court, mirrors on one wall, wooden beams that share the ceiling, a floor consumed by too many heels who have quarreled with the rhythm.

image inside the green room of chairs placed in semicircle in front of the mirror, two chairs with too much work on the backs of chocolate presumptuous, which in turn is desired letter, word, thought. Imagine voices that weave in characters awaken and ears ready to catch them, lay them out for good in their thoughts. Imagine that whisper curious eyes and feet floating, unable to slow down the course of desires.

images of bodies: broken, Patrol, spied on, chased, admired. Imagine their desires: powerful, impetuous, private, shouted, impossible. Free flow from the pages of a journey that you too, now, you have undertaken.

What Does Sleep Apnea Sound

Parole2.0

"A word of truth will weigh more than the entire world . "

The Isaevich Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn said in his speech for the Nobel Prize for literature, arguing that the specific gravity of an idea, maybe even their own (and therefore free), may overturn an entire regime. He was referring to his experience in the Soviet gulag during the dictatorship, the systematic attempt to undermine, the prisoner, the instinct to the formulation of thought, by giving precedence to the collective idea of \u200b\u200ba single idea, which became useless, had not no more need to be generated.

The Time of the gulag (Russian acronym for "main direction of corrective labor camps") seems to be over, at least in Russia, today we have other corrective labor camps, those of the mind.

ideas of abuse, violence, cunning, miles of barbed wire behavior that bombards us and consumes us, convincing us that the silent obedience is the only way to continue to buy points in betting system that is rigged in our society.

The single line then it may become the way to chew the foundations of this prison in which we voluntarily confined or only a "refuge" in which to deny the real pretentious?

waiting for your ideas.

PS Let me point to discuss this question, a literary contest, whose theme revolves around this question.

(link by clicking on the title of this post)

Street Legal Mopeds In Colrado

Cover

interrupt the sequence of chapters just to show you the final cover of "Mechanical Automation", which when finished will see the print publication. See
represented robotics, or Billie. Enjoy: D

Are Tampons Flushable?

Chapter 7 - Understanding things


Billie That evening was unusually quiet and calm. Michel noticed immediately, is being affected by the fact that even the tentacles of Miss Tender seemed troubled, and his choice is to fix the floor stubbornly, without look the other way. Automation helps its owner to sit down, being careful not to even touch him, and took the dishes to the table with a precision that was not the usual, without a single word came out from his lips.


Pritch tasted its creamy mushroom carefully observing the robot, which was placed against the wall, waiting to serve the second, with glassy eyes facing the wall opposite.
thought back to the words of Tristan and what he had said to Edward when they were in the carriage. Viewed thus, no longer seemed Billie anomaly, but only a mechanical man devoid of any will or initiative, but a restless movement of a hand, a slight frowning of the beautiful mouth, or a nervous twitch that they should not be present in an android standard , reminded him as their servant was not a very common piece of tin.
Count finished his soup without taking his eyes off el'androide not never turned to face him. After dinner, Miss
Tender crawled on their tentacles and, bowing alongside Pritch, whispered - With the permission of my Lord, I retire for the night - and they nodded briefly, giving their consent. The mutant stalked sailed away, but before it came out from the living room, the count saw her wrap one of his slippery end to a leg of Billie. The android stiffened and made a disgusted face, which caused the woman to leave angry.
Michael face of the wave approach and Billie did so - took away the dishes, sir. -
- You can do it later. - The man said, holding out a hand. The other looked at her a little 'out of place, with an expression that had lost her heart to the landlord. That robot was almost more human than he - Take it, Billie. -
- I can not, sir. - He answered - I have already caused too many problems with my rebellious nature, I will not do any other act reckless, which forces her to turn them off. -
- Disable? - Michael exclaimed in disbelief, lowering his arm - Who the hell told you such a lie?! - The android
rubbed the palms in a gesture that denoted insecurity - Miss Tender ruled that the sole reason for his sudden visit to Mr. Moore, sir, could be asking him to disconnect my life once and for all circuits because it is arcistufo me and my inability as a butler. -
- It 's true, only the last part of this booming sermon. - Chuckled noble-However I have no intention to get off. -
- Tender ... But Miss - insisted the humanoid.
- Do not listen to her. - Pritch said shooting then get up, hold it for the sides and push it against the table, blocking with their arms.
- Listen ... I do not even understand what you are, if a robot or a wandering spirit, but ... well, I destabilize. -
- I, sir, dest ...? - Stammered the servant.
- That's right. - Interrupted the Count - This afternoon, Tristan, the android Moore, talked about things that are not able to understand, too ... spiritual for me. Imagine, I never even attended a seance and perhaps the only time I set foot in a church was for my baptism, but the ... m'intriga mystery that surrounds you and I do not know what to think of you. Exactly what you are, you, Billie? - The
requested, to that question, gasped like a fish out of water, but eventually relented and began with a barely audible voice - I do not know, sir, I really do not even know for sure. I was an observer and studied the world of humans. I envied them because they could live while I had been denied, although he wished with all my might. From that place without time, I admired the love between two people and I realized that no one will ever have for me. -
- You never can tell .... - Michael intervened - What but I really understand, is why I've avoided the other night, tirandoti back at the last minute - I mean - continued frowning - I've always seemed a rather expansive ... . -
The robot's eyes widened - Well ... ... here in my state is that of an observer, I could understand that humans behaved in that way to get the attention of their fellows, and I do not ... -
- E you want my attention, Bill? - Asked Pritch without much preamble, whispering those words on the neck of the other.
- Yes, my lord, but ... I do not think I know exactly what happens after ... . -
Michael smiled, charmed. His little Billie was all a big hoax. He had only pretended to have a boldness and a nerve that does not belong to him instead, as the creature close to him at that moment she was shy, scared and fragile, although it was made of iron.
- I can teach you, if you want. - Whispered the master, lost to stroke the dark hair of the automaton and breathing against his mouth. He felt bold as ever, already forgetting anomalies and disturbing thoughts. He was not surprised even the naturalness with which, in the end, he incorporeal entities agreed that business, so he was skeptical. Was almost enough time for a dinner.
- What should I do? - Wanted to know the android, peering curious Pritch and smiled again.
- You little Billie? Absolutely nothing, I think to you, do not worry ... -

Itchy Blisters On My Buttocks

"Readings in comparison": reading club virtual

First challenge: Norvegian Wood by Haruki Murakami.

We believed, proposed, and insisted wavered. Eventually, within the core of the cultural circle Bel-Ami in Rome, I and other book-maniacs have created a reading club that supports the portal www.anobii.com

It a virtual place where all vent our frustrations hardened by readers, complaining about the unacceptable last page of a novel or sudden death of the character that most of all loved. We can advise, mythologizing, criticize, discuss and create faces fight to the last line on the publishing event of the moment, but most will be an opportunity to learn from their different points of view and (most difficult) try to accept them.

The first book he has chosen the democratic community of the current 14 members is "Norvegian Wood" by Haruki Murakami. Within the group's cultural circle about aNobii Bel-Ami (link: http://www.anobii.com/groups/01cd18a471187178e4/) you will find a discussion about the book with the rules that we set for our readings compared. The first event is set for next October 10, but of course you can always join the group in a race, merely to "listen" or wait for the next title. At the end of each reading, we will arrange a meeting "live" to add faces to words.

I wait.

Check Availability Licence Plates

wanted to thank for the master: Thank you, thank you, thank you .... my self esteem because it draws nourishment





some point before you throw me on the cross country Christmas

Pokémon Would Look Like If They Had Genitals

really are ... I'm working on a couple of''little things''because Christmas is coming and I'm going in a frenzy ...