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The decorations for the baptism of Anna Marie

This time I am engaged only in making the decorations for the cake christening cake Anna Marie, and not the whole cake ... we wanted one too large, beyond my ability and capacity . But this has given me the opportunity to work with a real pastry chef to set foot in a bakery in full swing. E 'was great fun and exciting to watch behind the scenes of a busy Sunday morning.

I wanted to thank Louis, Pastry Chef, for being so kind and helpful with me and giving me valuable tips.

Now sshhhh ... Anna Marie sleeps ...

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continues to persist, persistent, never annoying, the predominance of the dark.

The lamps appear to be in constant struggle to her, faithful friends of a man who can no longer find its way into this tangle of thoughts crossed inexorably destroyed by the issue logic of the human mind.

Fear of the dark is nothing but fear of loneliness, of not knowing the way that looks beyond its own nose. Navigate a primordial ocean, Pangea submerged.

Fear of falling down, finally. I do not know what, but something will have to finish though.

They taught me that this world has strict rules.

I envy anyone that has violated the rules.

... is there anybody out there?

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bewildered if it is possible believe in the case ..

... that today, May 9, in the national news there was talk of the death of Aldo Moro. Great Italian politician, part of the history of our (or your?) Country, just remember that.

What really makes me want to scream shit come to this country is that, in those accumulations of misinformation and superficiality are the various TG Daily that "public", it has not been named Giuseppe "Peppino" Impastato, killed on the tracks of Palermo - Drilling on the night of May 9, 1978.

I do not want to spend words to say who was and who was not, not needed and would be insufficient to make the idea of \u200b\u200bthe person. It makes me angry to the hypocrisy that comes from these institutions that we telematics in Italy, where before it comes to fighting the Mafia, anti-racketeering, and fight a guy Dick, then you can not remember characters strong, courageous, heroic as Peppino , rather it go to deify people like Riina and Provenzano, with pompous Hollywood-style fiction in which the only result in the end they offer excellent opportunities to the viewer.

I read about him only repeats summary of his biography, written with obvious fake sympathy, and perhaps they are come even more anger.

would have been nice and very helpful to repeat airing movies like The Hundred Steps or Fortapasc, to name just two, which in our state TV I've never seen it done. Nor (let alone!) In his sister's closet.

E 'repulsive all this, then no less repulsive as you are playing at the door trying to make you pay fees RAI. I'm sorry for those who are fallen, I have sent them happily fuck off.

Luckily there are still people, at least on the web, remember that and remember him like everyone else, become a memory in some way. Even I do it, even if a post is a rather tiny.

I wish I could thank. I hope this because I feel it in some way ..

Greetings and thanks also to the authors of the website http://www.peppinoimpastato.com

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City Night May

City night of a village nestled in itself, dominated by some windmill and some last a bit more powerful than usual.
shouting in a dialect incomprehensible to come so close and the bar in front, where some life still able to resist the temptation of sleep crosses his path with another.
rustling in the running of the trucks come from the state, driving people to their apparent indifference of the peace (peace be admitted), solitary run fast fate, always careful not to stay within with the speedometer.

The rattle of the wheels on trade comes from the railroad, the last train of the day is fast approaching its destination, with the wheels smoking now for over a thousand miles run at 160 per hour, and people on it who knows what to expect future .

The bark of a dog loud and clear coming from the opposite house, perhaps troubled by some cats of way, maybe just eager to hear the echo of his booming voice seldom heard in the darkness torn right from some old and rusty lamp .

You just can not hear the sound of the sea, eternal brother of the local people, and admired him as a God treated like a rag, never ceases to live and to monitor, observe and ponder.

The silence of the rest usually helps to contemplate a scenario, but still a pillar of the phantasmagoric and stoned system called planet Earth. Out here there are those who sleep, some people bake bread that will brighten breakfast tomorrow morning and will fill most of the other supermarkets, there are those who happily express your love (you love?) As best he can, there is who is awake, sitting at a corner of a balcony full of mold intent to summarize his life in this silly and exciting day.

There, the important thing is that there is this component of sound irreverence and diversity in a world that knows how to ask questions but do not provide more answers, exhausted by the savage human beast who hides behind one thousand irregular verbs.

E 'in May, and it is night. Common.

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Memory iron

"Anyway already bought the locomotive, it told him the other day, and all were there."

"Yes, the locomotive is .."

"Brath said to have built near the capital and called Elisabeth"

"Elisabeth?"

"Elisabeth!"

"But imagine .."

"It 's a name of a woman, Elisabeth!"

"So what?"

"What I know is that a locomotive, not a woman. And why the locomotives have a name, sorry? "

Indeed ..

" They always name things that are scary. "

" What? "

And indeed he was coming ..

"No, I said to say"

"They have a name because if somebody steals the you can say she was your"

In fact, Elisabeth was coming ..

"But those who want who steals a locomotive? "

" I once stole the gig. They unplugged the horse, and they took the gig only .. "

Indeed Elisabeth was coming, iron monster ..

"Of course we must be very stupid to get the gig and do not steal the horse!"

"If I were a horse I would have been offended"

In fact, Elisabeth was coming, monster of iron and beauty ..

"It was a beautiful horse, absolutely .."

"So good that even the thieves ..."

In fact, Elisabeth was coming, monster of iron and beauty tied to the deck of a barge, the river went back in silence.

suit: that was amazing. And its not slow motion.

took her hand from the water - someone will knock Finally, on two tracks because his anger explode a hundred time, violating the lazy air. An animal, you might have thought. A wild beast stolen from some forest. The strings sawing thoughts and memories - a cage of strings to silence her. The cruelty of the sweet river that leads further and further away - there will eventually be a distance that becomes his new home - will re-open your eyes and will have two front rails to know where to run - from what, I do not ever understand.

Saliva slowly the river, Elisabeth, tied on the deck of a barge. A large tarpaulin and hid the sun from view. No one could see it. But everyone knew that was beautiful ..

"He seems to be terribly alone," said Jun

"You like?"

"It 's strange .."

"Strange how?"

"I do not know, I figured the longer and more complicated ..."

"One day maybe you will make them longer and more complicated"

"I imagined the colorful"

"But it's so beautiful. .. color of the iron "

" When will race under the sun will shine like a mirror and you can see from afar, right? "

"From far away, like a mirror that slips away in the meadows "

" And we'll see? "

" Of course we will see "

" I mean ... we are not already dead when they finally going to make it from ?

"Oh, no. Of course not. First, the two of us will never die, and second, whatever you may say that those tracks now, all right, are overly short, soon to be two hundred kilometers long, say two hundred, and perhaps it will be this year, perhaps those for Christmas two tracks ... "

" I was joking, Mr. Rail. "

" ... we even a year, a full year, two at most, and I tell you I'll put those tracks on a train of three, four cars, and the start e. .. "

" I said I was joking .. "

" No, you're not joking, you think I'm crazy and that the money to start this train does not 'll never find them, that's what you believe. "

" I think you're mad, and that precisely is why they find the money. "

" I tell you leave, that train. "

From "Castles of Anger," Alessandro Baricco