11 Month Old With Swollen Gum

MANIFESTO

This blog was created after this experience of a team blog made by amateur writers (but if it passed a professional accept it with open arms, small enough to fulfill the rules)
As before, the goal is to collect as much as possible stories.
Vigono only two rules. At a
can also break a bit 'in the sense that the story should not be too long (say no more than the 8000 characters of word) but the border is not exhaustive.
The second one is peremptory. The subject of the story must be

CHRONICLES OF LOST LOVE

Lost from you? From a character imaginary? By the partner who, incidentally, have just given up?
is up to you to decide. To your imagination and your words.
And if you like to participate, send me the story (or stories) by mail to seriallicker@gmail.com. Will post them here, obviously putting a link to your blog.

Here are the links to the stories of those who have already participated.
Good reading.
And good writing.

Blogexperiment
BlogExperiment # 2
Gingerino (new) Idea
Women
SerialLicker
SerialLicker # 2 # 3
SerialLicker (new!)
Tata9

Kate Nash Mouthwash Piano Sheet

LERAGAZZECHENONHOBACIATO (of SerialLicker)

A. was not the case that the kiss. You should not kiss a girl in third grade. Let alone in the classroom, while standing waiting for the teacher to give us permission to leave. But she was so beautiful. Magra, blackberry, puppy eyes. And then it was fashionable. He had no apron-skirt just like us. And even the staple. She had her apron-jacket with the zipper. As a girlfriend of Fonzie. And that pretty white collar, embroidered with crochet, all small holes and nets as his socks. I madly in love with her. I was sweating and blushing only to pronounce his name. But I was bold. In eight years, just to feel the pocket inflates the range of stickers won his companions, to feel the masters of the world. And so, from master of the world, while I was standing next to her, I turned around, embraced her with one arm and snapped his head forward to kiss her. She was too quick for me. He turned, so that my kiss landed on the rough edges of a strand of hair behind, and whispered that schiiiifoooo ...". At least the teacher and his companions did not realize anything. But since then I stopped to be bold.

B. I never tried to kiss her. Contemplation, admired, adored her. Hung on his lips. Rocked with every swing of every blond curl. She could not fail, even though he was twelve. At twelve, the girls know. The boys do not. Not even 22. Not even 32. It need not continue. She knew. But did not like. At twelve, thick glasses and round the body do not help. Even at 22, and so on ... But I spoke. And I told the guys, more or less a week, which fell in love. I've kissed, no. But I learned to swallow my feelings. And to listen. And silent. Which is better to listen and be near her, that being rejected and hurt.

C. she was ugly. Small, ruffled, even a bit 'hairy. He had a big nose, eyes, ball, body fat insignificant. Perhaps it was the unconscious to make me fall in love with her. The feeling that maybe I had bad hopes. That reality did not allow another. Samantha Fox that someone like me would only smile in certain fantasies that it was better not to tell about. She, as a separate painter of Montmartre, and I spoke hermetic illusion. Or maybe it was just the way in which I deviated interpret his words. However, not kissed her. And I kissed him. But I learned to write to heal the wounds. Or maybe just to give meaning to watch them bleed.

D. Instead I had to really kiss . He played basketball and studied psychology. I remember a one on one pitch in a concrete, in which she praised my jump shot. I remember the smiles and tickle and my hands on his shirt wet with sweat. I remember a long car journey, clouded by the wine, you and I in the back seat, hands clasped naturally, as if it were inevitable, as if there was no other way to travel. I remember the parking lot. My ass against his one. Her body against mine. Eye to eye. The lips do not. I was shy. And I was listening to others. Who said that was not suitable for me. Sorry D. I apologize now. I like, and then. And we would have fun. It would be worth it, arguing the next day, to kiss that evening a little 'magic summer.

E. did not ask for kisses. Not only . I told the boy her best friend. That she was dragged to the cinema. And then he had not seen the film. I told him crazy about her. Why did things not even imagined that his girlfriend. I mean, wink, that if you drink pineapple juice semen becomes sweet. And he loved to break into my house, slip into my room, make a tickle fight. My erection, a conspicuous sign of my youth and unspoken desire. We never kissed. I did not want to be one of many. I did not want to risk being shared. I did not want to risk it. Yet I drank pineapple juice, secretly hoping that a night of many, take the initiative. He did not. I did not. He became really sweet?

F., to be honest, I kissed . A kiss to his lips. One night it was sad and she and I spent hours to make the console as best friends. I was in love, of course. But I did not know how it was done. And then we worked together. And how does it work when you work together? And another colleague is in love with her? She liked even football. And beer. I did not ask more. I wrote long letters. That came to nothing. Why me, and so surprised, I did not answer to his kiss. Tired. Suffers. I wrote again. Too late. He did not answer anymore. She got married, I knew. With another colleague. A third. What time do not even look.

G. I could kiss her. I wanted. And maybe you too. I remember it was sunny. And we knew each other well, even if the distance he had not allowed to see each other often. But the words, sometimes, are concrete, like an embrace. It was sunny that day, only warm. I imagined an ice cream. I watched over his own shoulder. The learned by heart. Then she was to turn around. He looked at me. And he said "looks". I looked. And I saw his mouth, a big smile, infectious, sincere. Eyes as large as sweet. I felt the muscles of his back under my fingertips, the warmth of his hand on my arm, his body dozens of times I had dreamed of so near and yet so real. I said "look" and then pointed to a window. But it was a past century, a century eye to eye.

(published for the first time here )

Confidentiality Agreement Yacht

STORY OF A LOVE STORY (of Tata9)

Watching the kids small bass and lively that run inside the oratory, surrounded by their leaders, I am reminded of memories of when I was little, low, lively and committed parents to work, so I was parked in oratory, to be able to run and play in the sun all day

daily

for fifteen days.

I was about nine years two months and four days and was part of the team 'red': wearing my red cap with my name on the visor and I was madly in love my animator ten years older.

His name was Nicky, not to abbreviate the name Nicola or Nicholas, but because he was American

... and I think it still is.

was nice, big, tall, American, intelligent and liked all the girls because he was kind to all ... a perfect mix.

... and who knows if it still is.

write his name on all pages of my diary, I looked at him with doe-eyed every day when I approached the empty stomach and I imagined a life with him every night before falling asleep.
He believed it was a pre-adolescent crush .
I thought it was the Great Love of my life.

And I was so convinced I was doing everything to get me out:

I was the good of my team, first in the relay, the first treasure hunt, first to wash your hands before you sit down at the table.

He obviously, like any good entertainer, he noted my talent and filled me with compliments on the team believing they have a genuine phenomenon, ignoring the fact that he was simply raising my hopes of a life together .

Then came the next day, final party complete with pizza, music and liters of Coke for all

came a girl, as tall as him, without him, and beautiful with big blue eyes

type cartoon manga

He came up to him putting his hands over his eyes and asked him to guess who he was.

He turned and smiled warmly embraced, everything before my eyes in disbelief.

was his girlfriend, someone had tried to tell me earlier.

but you know when you're in love there are the pork chops on the eyes!

I dropped my glass of Coke and my eyes began to tear prone to become shiny

me too but without notice

I was angry, sad and could not understand what could have her more than me.

I was convinced that a race of the bags would have beaten easily.

was really nice and more intelligent than me?

Or was it just the height?

decided to go to him and declare once and for all.

Tentatively I walked away just when she was with a friend.

was my time.

front of him, I could hardly even think of being his neighbor.

I was so embarrassed that my knees trembled

perhaps also due to excessive amounts of ingested cocoacola.

I thought about that kiss and then all images of our life together, so after a long breath deeply, with all the fear of the world, I declared all my love knowing that never I could go back.

(it was a wonderful statement on what they told me .. but I remember nothing else)

He smiled.

But that sweet smile that you do when you put a baby in her arms Labrador.

He walked.

fueling the most fervent fantasies in me

took my hands

they were sweating like never

and in a tone of voice low and very sensual (or so I remember) told me:

-no I've never made a declaration of this most beautiful and sweet ..

-I got so

- (smiles again), but unfortunately I am promised ..

- with the girl manga - I thought I. ..

-but I thank you that you were very brave to come here and tell me these things, you ..

-I kiss you?

- ... ... ... ... ...??

-I understood it and also the age of his girlfriend and who knows if one day you will also want to return to America, I do not want to wait nine years forever ... but I would like at least a kiss and that's it.

He smiled again, and with all possible sweetness came over and kissed me forehead

more or less how I kissed my grandmother before me goodnight

I looked disappointed, patted the face and whispered in his ear:

-hope the kisses you give to your girlfriend to be better than this ...

-mah ... really ......

-damage on the lips! And with a little 'language, which never hurts!

turns his back and heels because I never even brought to nine years, and I left, disappointed what I thought was my great love but happy because somehow I had shot at him, there was contact, but let's face it ...

... could not even kiss!

(published for the first time here )

35 Weeks Pregnant With Bellt Button Pain

ALSO STARRING (in SerialLicker)

"Hey, you're ..."
The man raised his head slowly, meeting the eyes a tourist dressed as a tourist: white top with the words "I love NY", crushed red shorts, short socks, Nike runners. And sunglasses to take up long hair and dark. Up a book, which seemed a city guide. Holding the bag on his shoulder too large, the edges came out a couple of EXERCISE, not even waiting for the bell was in high school.
How long was watching? He had no idea. He was fixed on her red cocktail, dark color correct campari nonsoquale aromatic liquid. And vodka. The world stopped. Or rather, of course. But not for him. He was down for a moment. He and his cocktail.
"You are ..."
"No, look, you got the wrong person."
Yes, of course. The answer-standard when it felt like it. Or when they were not official meetings with the fans. Then there had to smile, contract, and embrace those who wanted to be photographed. And pretend to pour a cup of coffee, as in the show, for the benefit of local newspapers in search of a paragraph in the page for easy entertainment. And it was impossible not to notice the disappointed faces, with that shadow in his eyes, saying, because he and not Joe? Phoebe O-that-was-so-funny? Even when the presenter gilding the lily: "Critics have called it the seventh friend ...". Useless. The six friends were. And people wanted them. He was low budget for the evenings.
The girl went in teams.
"No, it's impossible. Hair, as it was then. And how short that time. And those eyes ... "
"But how is this?" He thought, feeling her eyes on him like an X-ray machine.
"You are ... you are ... "
Here's proof: they would remember the name? If he had pronounced the name, maybe he would not listen. If he had remembered his real name and not that of the character, perhaps he even offered a drink.
"You are the bartender's Friends!"
is, in fact. Not if I had remembered. If you remembered him in a very few. But only die-hard followers. And it's not him. The show. And then those party fans, because the name occasionally appeared on posters and on calls. The name of the character. And underneath, in small, real name. James Michael Tyler. That does not say anything to anyone. Might as well go back to look at the cocktails. Indeed, to drink it.
"I sit down? Do you mind if I sit? "Cursed
free table, empty, lonely, excluding the corner occupied by his elbows, his stained glass and the napkin the waiter had placed below. And then wondered what to do? He was already seated ...
"What can I say to convince you that not him?" Said a strange voice, hard, after a sip of vodka and campari drink too fast, he had burned his throat.
She Scartabelli inside the bag. "See? I knew that I would use this guide. And 'the latest edition, updated every two years, because fashions change, and even the locals. But I could not come to New York without seeing even a celebrity
"driving?" He said, regretting a second after giving her rope.
She stopped rummaging and proudly showed it to him. "This."
He read the cover, on which there was a drawing of a Statue of Liberty surrounded by paparazzi. "New York in search of celebrities: the complete guide" was the title. Stifled a chuckle. Celebrities ... happy her ...
"You see?" She nervously flipped through the book. And when he found what he sought, waved it in front of him, so quickly that it was impossible to read. "On this page is the name of the Bickley's. It underlined in red. He said that is a secret haven for actors and writers. But do not rush hour. And he was right. "
Bickley's. Neither had noticed the name of the bar. It was just as little shabby among those closest to her hotel. He looked around. The four-thirty in the afternoon, for him the time between the last test at the theater and the appointment before the show. He saw a broker with his tie undone and a whiskey, a sign of a bad day on the exchange. Then two Puerto Ricans, probably idle for a cleaning company, the newspaper of racing. And three tourists who were passing the camera with the views of Manhattan has just taken, and glasses of cola on ice in mid-table. Finally, the bartender wiping glasses. No writers. Neither actors. Apart from him, of course.
"But now you do me a dedication?". The girl had put the book away. And the bag had drawn a ring EXERCISE. "You know, I'm here in New York to see what I've seen only on TV. And to see who I saw only on TV. You are the first ... "He looked
turn the pages, full of photos and clippings stuck like a teenager. He decided that if there was a page for him, he would offer her a drink. But he knew that would have spared her four dollars.
"Look, do me a dedication here?"
looked at the page. "Friends" was written with blue marker, above a photo of six friends hugging and smiling, probabilemnte downloaded and printed from the Internet. Ross next to Rachel, of course. He grimaced.
"There are, in this picture."
"It does not matter. You were there, you were with them. " She was twirling a pen in front of the face. It looked like a sword fighter ready to stab her rival.
He took the pen. Now that he had seen the photo and the photo that he had seen her, she just wanted him to go away quickly.
"Your name?"
"Oh sorry," she said, beating a handful on the table, awkward as a teenager in emotional storm. "Sorry, that rude, I have not been filed. I'm Mary. Mary from Saint Marys, Canada. Is not it funny? Mary from Saint Marys. Think if you were born in Maryland. " And he laughed.
He smiled and shook her hand. "Nice ..." Then he stopped. Tell her that name? Her? What the show? Obvious choice, she knows only the latter. Indeed, even that. Damn short blond hair, blue eyes bloody, bloody scene that involved over there, as essential as the shelf of cups of coffee, watching Rachel adoring. Here's something that's hard work: look adoringly ...
"Nice, Gunther."
"Guuuunther. Here's how it was called the bartender at Central Perk. But you called so in real life? It would be funny. More of Mary Saint Marys, to be honest. But there really is the Central Perk? ".
"No, my name is Gunther also in life. And there is no Central Perk ".
"was written in the guide, which did not exist. There is a page dedicated to Friends, you know? Is the address of the building that was the scene, though. It is written that the actors are rarely of Friends in New York. But what everybody knows. Jennifer Aniston is a ho-lli-wood, wow ... "
He remained with the pen in the air, watching the tourists depart heavy hair from her shoulder as they dive into the stereotypes of the cabaret shows, in nerds hotel in Las Vegas. Now he really wanted him to go away quickly. Complete the formula: "friend of Friends, with affection Gunther" and returned the pen and notebook, hoping it would be happy.
But she did not get up. He seemed absorbed some thought. "Jennifer Aniston ... that is Rachel. But it was really the best friend of Monica, in real life? And you were not in love with her? In the show, I mean ... Right! Right! I remember we tried and she did not even look at you. It was like that? "
drank. And that seemed extra-strong cocktails poured directly on a wound.
"I've never really tried," he said Dry, closing EXERCISE not see the picture even more. "Not until the last episode."
"I saw, I saw it. And you remember correctly. In the last episode she runs to the airport. And Ross goes to get. And then put them together. You not to blame, that is not involved, namely ...".
He sighed. He drank until the last drop her cocktail, then took a breath. And, in one breath, declaimed: "Rachel, I know you will leave tonight. But first let me tell you ... I love you. Now, I do not think this will change your plans, but I thought you should know. "
She looked at him, dumbfounded. Surprise and admiration, as if the declaration of love had been for her. Maybe he was thinking of when he would tell her friends at Saint Marys Friends of an actor had played a joke on the show just for her.
Then the actor sets the exaggerated falsetto voice, that who takes the piss. It went on: "Gunther ... Oh, I love you too. Well, probably not in the way you mean. But I love you. And every time that I will be a bar to drink coffee, and every time I see a man with a hair lighter than the sun, think of you. "
She was still amazed. Admired? Surprised? Concerned about the reaction of a madman? He did not know decipher.
He stared into her eyes: "You see? You remember wrong. This is the bar I say to Rachel last episode. It 's the best joke I've ever played. You know why? Not acting. No, not even recited a bit '. I was in love with her. Rachel, Jennifer, of Jen, call it what you like. Flirty. And rejected. Or rather, never taken into account. I looked, the admired, desired her. And you anything. At best, a greeting, a smile, a joke at parties at the end of the series, when we were all together. But I never managed to enter his life. Never. As the show. I've even sent a message when he dumped Brad. And you anything. I did not want to take advantage of, you know? When you love a person, can not make you happy, at least hope that she is happy. But she did not even reply. Not even one time. "
He paused. He grabbed his glass of cocktail and took it to his lips. But there was not even a drop. He felt the shame of the act that had to be hard turned into a clumsy skit. But he never stopped talking.
"You know why my character was successful? Because it was all true. I had to pretend not to look with sad eyes. They were my eyes. Have you ever been in love with someone who does not even look at you? Did it ever happen? Have you ever had to beg a smile because you know that most of you would not have been granted, and when that smile came, the day was a good day? Have you ever satisfied with the crumbs? Eh? Tell me, did you ever satisfied with the crumbs? "
He raised his voice. The tourists and the bartender had turned toward his table. Oh no, there would be Failure just another onslaught of autograph hunters.
"You ... Now ... now you're married. You'll be happy now. " Mary had taken her hand, the one with the ring. His eyes were shiny. Maybe he thought he was in a show, and like her, who goes around with the guide in search of fame, wants nothing more.
"You know why I have got Friends? Casting was the only one who knew how to handle a coffee machine. And I had to pay for my college made the bartender. I have not been chosen because I was good, because I was special. Just because I could make coffee. And then I looked at him, blond, blue eyes, face serious. Ok, let's call Gunther, they said. And let's make a German silent. Life is a game of dice. You can bet on numbers that you hope will come out. But as always decide the nuts. I do not even know how I am. If you are Gunther and James. They decided the nuts. And they decided that I should be happy. "
is a little ashamed of what he had just said at home in California, was waiting for his wife, and often had some role in the theater. In the dimness of the stage no one thought he was not credible because it was the same as the bartender of Friends who had been ten years in a TV behind the bar to tap coffee. And sometimes even called him for some small part to the movies.
"Not as I hoped, at least" he corrected himself. He raised his eyes toward the girl. She was still looking. He had not even realized that he never left his hand, that was only because he had grabbed the ring. She hinted at a smile, a little bitter but at least 'more relaxed. "Want a drink?"
She shook her head and with his free hand he took a napkin and wiped what looked like a tear. Then he took another napkin and scribbled over an address and a number: "I'm in this hotel, if you want to call me tonight ..."
"I can not tonight. I have the show at the theater. I will invite you, if there were any celebrities. And you present and I'd sign a lot of dedications. But it is an independent company, Off Broadway, an experimental project of almost unknown actors. I do also the director ...".
"Call me. If you want to call me, "said Mary Saint Mary's, rising quickly from his chair and tripped away. "Thanks." From his desk in the shadows, he could have sworn he was sobbing. But maybe it was just all that vodka in campari.

(SerialLicker also says here )

Esophagus Painful When You Touch It

0.00 (of SerialLicker)

"Did you ever happens fischino ears? Yes? You know the legend, right? If you ears ringing, it means that someone you're thinking. I believe, you know? We always believe. And I make a game to guess who is thinking about me. Seeking eyes a number. And the first meeting, on the pages of a book, a newspaper, watch the street, I keep it in mind. Then do a calculation. I repeat the alphabet until the letter corresponding to the number I found. Do you understand how it works? A one means, two means B. .. Here, exactly. And then the first name that comes to mind that starts with that letter, is the name of the person I thought. Sometimes I change the procedure. Or rather, I can not remember the name. But the nickname. But I do not have a fixed rule for this step. It is the person that counts. If I was reminded of just that, is because I thought. This is the telepathy wanted so ... Are you still there? "
" Yes, darling, I'm listen ... "
" Well, because you know, in the last few days my ears are ringing a lot. And now I think of her, Faith. And I hope that she is thinking, the same number of times I see it. I know that I do not want to hear. That does not answer my phone calls and respond if it is only to shout at me not to look for more. He does it because he is proud. And if I feel afraid to change his mind. You know, we've been together a lot. Six years. And six years together are many and are not easy to erase. And then you better stay away. Even if I do I really want to stay away. So when my ears ringing, I think of faith before they find the number. But do not cheat, you know? No, this game is not cheating. I have never cheated in a game, even as a child ...».
"Because you're sweet ..."
"... But this is no longer a game. For me it's getting serious. Find the number, do the sum, and then find the letter. I do the sum, because maybe the first issue I see is too large to correspond to a letter. Maybe it's page 213 of the book I'm reading. Then do 2 +1 +3. Same 6. Same F. See? F Faith. I swear that I did it on purpose. The case leads me always with her. But I have to memorize a lot of possible combinations. I happen to come to terms quickly, especially when the only number that is around the clock. I know a lot of hours, they mean 6. The 21.03 for example. Or 2.04. Or 22.11. Or 19.51. I'm bored? "
" No, behind ... "
" And then there's only 6. There is also 12. What do you mean L. Why do the calculations with the alphabet of American, the one with J and K. And do not cheat there either. L is the initial of the surname of the Faith. And then there's 3. What is the C of pup. O Cucci. I called it for six years. The name is still the case. "
"What's your name? Do not you tell me first ...».
'Cucci, Faith ... my faith. If I repeat the name out loud, I almost want to cry, you know? Especially tonight, because something bad happened. I repeat that I can not end. It can not be over. Not so suddenly. Not without an explanation. But tonight telepathy sent me a bad signal. You know why I feel like crying? Because I believe in this game. I have a desperate need to believe. But you know what happened to me tonight? Tonight, when I whistled the ears, the first issue on which I fell gaze was on display on the VCR. It's one of those that when in stand-by only marks the hour. And the hour was midnight on the dot. That is 0.00. Zero plus zero plus zero. You can repeat a thousand times the sum. But it will still give you zero. And there's a letter that corresponds to zero. And not even a name. There is none. No one who thinks of me. What the fuck is life when no one thinks of me? Can you tell me what the fuck is life, eh? EH? ".
"Come on, do not do that. It's just a game ...».
Click.
drop the line. Or maybe he hung up. Marta, aka Moana, controls the display on his computer. Fourteen-minute phone call. A good average. The hacienda is happy with her. There are some men who take much less, and that the third pig are already here, before slipping off her panties. Or rather, pretend. And they, them, saying, "Take it easy, let them talk ...". A one euro and 20 per minute.
"Who was on the phone? You did not say a word ...». Roberta, Art in Asia, had noticed his silence, the next place of call center erotic, while chatting on Facebook from the computer of an ordinance, which also occasionally worked at the porn site interactive for a small fee is charged on. "On the phone? Oh, nothing special. It was not anyone. I mean, I was not even told the name ...».
"Coffee Break, so you tell me?".
And Martha, aka Moana, along the short journey to the machine, past the sighs and whispered words of colleagues, just remembered that detail. That voice, that man had no name. That's who we're thinking, when your ears ringing and the display is 0.00. A person without a name. He could guess the first, and tell him, with his voice that he knew sneak in the ears and the hormones of a thousand strangers willing to pay for a fantasy, "Do not cry. Why do you anyone thinks. I just do not yet know the name ...». He wanted to tell him. But could not recall it. But maybe I think, would make your ears whistle. He looked at the clock, to try a number and hope it was a 13. The M Moana ...
'HOT Boys these jeans. I'm new? "Clic
.
The voice of Roberta, Art in Asia, aroused by the thoughts. It caused her to lose the account.
"I took them from Zara. They are doing supersaldi the end of summer. "

(SerialLicker stated above here )

Church Visitors Cards

MY LOST LOVE (of Gingerbreads)

did not understand why you were not even in that place so chaotic, so far from the quiet, comforting the concept of home.
He could be to develop his pain with the tranquility that we wanted, swallowed up by reassuring his couch, in front of the scenes of a movie that would be running blind in his eyes dull.
But she stood there, alone, in the midst of thousands of people. All
careless, all strangers, all taken from their excitement, unaware of the torment that slammed into it.
and cons.
And through.
In the mind, heart, in the belly.
Sola.
In that moment when all he needed, except chaos, she was conscious choice to deafen his thoughts, when the volume of life around.
An action that would impact net jumped to his reality, he would spin in that gimmick colored, fueled by excitement, alcohol and fireworks, and that he would finally vomited.
wrinkled, but clean up.
Maybe he felt a little 'sick, at first, but then would have been able to keep pace and get used to the new world in which he had temporarily dropped out to find that state of weakness and defeat.
spotting off that feeling dirty and ashamed.
Perhaps only to find no time to deal with his lanky present.

He hung between the people holding her hand in a mechanical way, without realizing that grazed the hand was lifeless, devoid of any positive emotion.
The tugging behind him, crossing, before her world that she then would follow without question, standing a little 'back, as swallowed by the flood of ignorant people on slow flowing layers of their bloody history.
was a scene view and review.
In those years, often painful, she had always followed his pace, he had always gone along with their needs in their silence, however, his needs. Despite the character
robust in its possession, it was left empty slowly, as if it were a balloon - inaudible - loses its force, to numb on itself, becoming a small, useless, worthless.
Nobody ever had that air of power he needed, and she had come to believe that even if he deserved it.
Because we had tried.
We had tried hard to shake off that feeling.
He tried to leave, to pave streets away from her, he even tried to fall in love again.
tried in people that something that could distract you enough to believe it really, Then we embroidered on it, and fantasized until the surrender, fierce and bitter, appeared regularly in a rumpled bed, along with an unassailable sense of guilt that accompany it creeping back to that door, back in those eyes again in that heart of stone. Better
wrong with him, good for another.

Today, however, he realized he was asking a bit 'too, the remnants of his sanity.
He realized that he should not be there, was no longer pretend that all was well.
Why was nothing more than good.

The concert was to a great start, in the frenzy the public environment and excitement palpable.
The music deafened, the lights went mad over a meadow swarming.
Thousands of arms to the sky, thousands of throats shouting.
And then, thousands of lighters.
Their slow piece par excellence, that rock heartbreaking, passionate, from eye to eye.
"I go to the bathroom," she shouted from her in less than 20 cm.
him, as forecast, they care little and nodded a quick nod, go back down again in a flash in his personal time.
She would not resist.
He had to leave.
With their backs to the declaration of love that was not for her, walked along the people that dissipates, hand in hand, and allowing her to breathe more.
The sound was cleaner, from a distance.
and turned to the stage, watching him in his larger frame.
None of those people over there knew she existed.
None of them.
He sat on the floor, crossing your knees to your chest and took a deep breath.
Sola.

It was at that precise moment, and let the couples that love to flow in streams between the eyes and lips, which was hit by a lucidity that he would never hoped.
And he saw that it was not love that man there who knows where in between, she had lost.
But that in itself.
This blow came straight to the stomach and made her cry softly, almost as if the acceptance of what was cleaning up pieces of flesh in pain, to heal.
He let the tears flowed unchecked until they needed it, and only later, rubbed his eyes and calmly got up, letting go a couple of slaps to the faint dusty jeans.
Then he took a walking slowly, over, away from it all, did not know yet where, as long away from there.
Until folded away from the gaze of the pretty boy.
The meeting was walking with measured movements, almost slow motion, as if he had wanted to leave penetrating eyes deceived her, for being seen through.
They supported both eyes until their distance is shortened to zero, then her, overwhelmed by a desire for revenge on herself that she had never in his life nourished and full of daring that did not belong, the came straight against and, without losing the look that he had twisted away from him, kissed him.
Without saying a word.
Unexpectedly, a kiss was intense and returned with a passion and a transport forgotten.
He had spontaneously placed his hand on the neck and held her gently against him, wisely using his lips curved in that dance and soft.
kiss was a natural, measured, careful, full of passion that made her wince.
As if they knew a long time, hand over his face, eyes in eyes fleeting fleeting.
They were kissing in the middle of all those people, but all those people had disappeared.
Spariti his thoughts, his insecurity disappeared, his fears disappeared.
Yes, he could still love each other.
His heart was warmed up again, his stomach was still flickering, his senses would take over again.
And that's because she deserved it.
smiled at those eyes, terrified and beautiful.
that expression confused on that mouth still hatching and speechless.
Then he saw the cane held between the fingers, left to his arm away, lying along the side, and took it gently.
gave a powerful breath, stunned that thick smoke that enveloped making it almost disappear, then smiled again.
"Thank you," he said.
He did take a while ', that look, that smile, the sincere gratitude, then he left.
Just as he had come.
Continuing along a road that did not yet know where it would take, but certainly far from being inadequate.
As if the extravagance of that gesture had finally closed its uncertainties.
As if that time had really put the point in a chapter of his life that should have closed long ago.
It was then that he learned to love herself Again, conscious that he loved that moment, that song, that mysterious, beautiful stranger, forever.

And nothing else matters.

(Gingerino stated above here )

Baby's Skin Is Mottled

a juggler (Idea of \u200b\u200bWomen )

It was circling the pins in the air, with a lightness and grace worthy of a real circus acrobat.
Every night, entertain people without the traffic lights.
Lea, she stopped with the engine idling, in the lane waiting for the green shoot, the boy watched, fascinated.
Who knows what was there, I wonder if he was Italian ...
Despite the cold and probably aching arms, the boy had that smile on his face.
When approached to ask for some money, Lea opened the window and asked if, instead, would prefer a hot meal, he offered her.
's smile became a real boy. Bright.
Get in the car and together they stopped at a restaurant not far away.
"I am Ivan, and I want to go to America," presented itself.
"Lea. I see you almost every night here at the traffic lights ..."
"I want to go to America and I need the money."
"But so, perhaps between what you get there in America ... no?" she smiled.
"Never mind"
The event took place quiet.
did not speak much, she blinked, trying not realizing the fact. He ate in silence.
Her hair was blond, curly hair, that fell on the forehead and at least one pair of earrings, lip.
clear skin contrasted with the strong southern accent.
"Where are you from?" He asked.
"Ragusa"
"But you're blond!" She said, smiling.
"My mother was Venetian My father is here. I also have freckles, you see? "She smiled, showing a couple of broken teeth.
In a sense, that was not the usual, that the boy was intrigued.
She liked his courage.
The liked his choice of life, although she probably would never have followed.
Even his bright green eyes and the like.
And maybe he wanted to taste the lips, feel the cold metal of those circles contact with his, lips.
Maybe he wanted to count the freckles ... one by one: to discover how far it was covered.
He wanted to peek yet the expression on his face, even while it was in the throes of an orgasm.
He wanted to leave something more, before letting him go ... itself.
He was watching.
followed on her face in the form of his thoughts.
"Now I ask you to come to me," he thought.
Although it was not really sure you want to ...
Instead, the boy said, "Leave me here, I walk ... I'm not used to eating so much!"
She smiled, nodded his head and without realizing it, with two fingers stroked his face, touched those freckles and smiled again.

Hello Ivan, good luck.

(Idea Women's reads here especially )

Cozy Cuddle Cup Guinea Pig

LOSS elusive (for BlogExperiment)

"Hello."

"Hello."

"Excuse me, but I do not know if are in the right place. "

" This and 'the lost property office. "

" Well, yes', I have lost something, or rather lost. "

"Lost, lost, and 'equal."

"Maybe, but sees more' and something that 'someone."

"Then he must go to the police, the Carabinieri."

'Yes', I went there but they told me that they can intervene only in case of death or abduction, and he, well, he is not 'it' disappeared, I ', thank God, and' state kidnapped. "

" But? "

" But I I lost but it 's still there' in his place doing his normal life. "

" So he left it? "

" Technically no, not 'I said "No, I'm sick, I give up!", did not say anything, so it 's true that at first I did not even noticed to have lost it. "

" Really? "

'Yes', after only 3, maybe 4 weeks I realized that consistently fail to call me more 'and call him if I put down' quickly with an apology and I drew, as promised, was no longer 'up to me and if I was him I would not open the door. At first I thought it was away from home but I was just pretending. "

" And when he and 'prudent, what did you do? "

" I am a reasonable person, then I asked for an explanation. "

" And him? "

" him anything, he continued his evasive tactics, until I waited outside his office. "

"And ...?"

"And I shoved, and 'ran away and took the bus on the fly."

"What a coward!"

'Gia', really. At that point I really realized that you lost. "

" and now she is' coming into this office with the hope of finding him? "

" But no way! What do you think, I have my dignity '! "

" E So what? "

" So I was wondering, you know, like with the things people lose, and perhaps not even aware of it or do not bother to come here looking for them, after some time, if no one claim that to them? "

" are auctioned. "

" And even if nobody buys them at auction? "

" are combined with some interesting object for sale below cost and there still undone. "

" And those who buy the lot, then you end up with something that is not wanted. "

" happens. "

" And then maybe throw, giving him 'keep it pure annoyance. "

" Yes, and 'probable. "

" I thought so! "

" But I do not see what all this has to do with your lost love. "

" Nothing, but considering the procedure, I just wanted to warn you, you are part of this, not to keep them ' to waste time with auctions and lots and inconvenience people who may have already 'more trouble in life, in short, in case anyone finds it, throw it out directly, my lost love. And if you ask him an explanation, eludetele I recommend eludetele at all costs! "

(BlogExperiment stated above here )

What Does It Mean If Temperature Is Low Like 88

DIARY (of BlogExperiment)

I sleep badly. I fall asleep but I wake up exhausted after a few hours and I can not 'go back to sleep. I think disjointed things, I see pictures of you, memories that are followed, according to a inner wire that meant everything to me. I suffer, cry, insult you, insult me \u200b\u200band I turn around. So 'would not resolve anything, not even give me peace.

the day is not 'best,' just a different kind of agony. The sunlight gives me 'discomfort in the eyes and inside. I would like a continuous rain, which helps me to exhausting myself before.

Tour with glasses and blacks to reject the rays' cause my eyes are red and swollen. From there 'behind every now and then drops a tear, so' on its own initiative, sometimes I only realize when it comes to the chin.

Strange, I do very well all the automatic actions, such as if my mechanics knew they must continue without me, or else I will not do the mistake. I complain, the minimum necessary, see the face and ask me if I'm wrong. Yes, 'I'm sick, my head, I say, I can not say the heart.

I do not eat. I drink coffee 'and coffee' and coffee ', drying out completely, then fill the mug to the sink, in the same cup that never comes back clean, and empty stomach four or five times in a row, until I burst. Once I even threw up.

foal to the loss I feel sick too often, partly because of too much coffee ', but above all this pain to nausea to me self-inflicted.

I avoid the mirror, maybe I would see anyway, I'm losing my awareness of myself. The loop of memories and because 'overhangs and undo everything. 'Cause it over? 'Cause you left me? 'Cause you were first in love with me and now another one? Live commentary of this lost love live h24, like that of a national disaster. Instead, after all, is not 'nothing, I just missed you and all the other love, one for myself.

(BlogExperiment stated above here )