live every moment as if it were a life
love every person as if the One
Thinking like an eternity God
One man
Two women
Three .... creating
The continuous renewal without end.
(Lamia)
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Facial In Mainstream Movies
(poetry)
(Jacques Prévert)
I'm like I have done so
When I want to laugh as I laugh
a crazy
I love him who loves me is it my fault
If it is not always what I love to madness
I'm like I have done so
What more do you want What do you want me
are made for pleasure
There's nothing to do
heels are too high
in life are too slim
My breasts too firm
My eyes too much makeup
And then what does it matter how I am
like me who likes me
What do you care about my past
Yes someone I loved
Surely someone loved me like boys who like to know
simply love love love ...
Perché m'interrogate
Sleep Thurs piacervi
per niente mi può And Cambiare.
When I want to laugh as I laugh
a crazy
I love him who loves me is it my fault
If it is not always what I love to madness
I'm like I have done so
What more do you want What do you want me
are made for pleasure
There's nothing to do
heels are too high
in life are too slim
My breasts too firm
My eyes too much makeup
And then what does it matter how I am
like me who likes me
What do you care about my past
Yes someone I loved
Surely someone loved me like boys who like to know
simply love love love ...
Perché m'interrogate
Sleep Thurs piacervi
per niente mi può And Cambiare.
(Jacques Prévert)
Saturday, March 19, 2011
California Trust Old Trust Not Updated
Zebras Gymbo 2011
Hello,
here's the next line on the way, there will be another for Gymbucks and will be on giraffes, orange and brown colors ... Go to the zoo this year ;-))
Zebra Gymboree Line March 2011
Hello,
here's the next line on the way, there will be another for Gymbucks and will be on giraffes, orange and brown colors ... Go to the zoo this year ;-))
Zebra Gymboree Line March 2011
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Hiv Bladder Infections
FEAR (poetry)
Paura
Sappi che io Sebben è vivere painful
Morire stanca.
Fear
although I know that life is painful
die tired.
(Vera Lucia de Oliveira)
Sappi che io Sebben è vivere painful
Morire stanca.
Fear
although I know that life is painful
die tired.
(Vera Lucia de Oliveira)
Friday, March 11, 2011
Long Dong Silverpenis
ARE A WOMAN (poetry)
Nobody can imagine what I say when I stand in silence
who do I see when I close my eyes as I am driven
thing I try when I pushed when I leave the hands free.
Nobody, nobody knows when I'm hungry when I leave
when I walk and when I lose, and nobody knows
that is for me to go back and return it back
,
that my weakness is a form
and my strength is a mask,
and what comes next is a storm.
They think they know him and I leave and I believe
happen.
They built a cage for me for my freedom
their concession was a
and thank you and obey.
But I'm free before and after them, with them and without them
are free in victory and in defeat.
My prison is my will!
The key to my prison is their language but their language
clings around the fingers of my
desire and my wish will never be able to tame.
am a woman.
believe that my freedom is their property
and I let him believe and
happen.
[Joumana Haddad (1970) Lebanon] 
Nobody can imagine what I say when I stand in silence
who do I see when I close my eyes as I am driven
thing I try when I pushed when I leave the hands free.
Nobody, nobody knows when I'm hungry when I leave
when I walk and when I lose, and nobody knows
that is for me to go back and return it back
,
that my weakness is a form
and my strength is a mask,
and what comes next is a storm.
They think they know him and I leave and I believe
happen.
They built a cage for me for my freedom
their concession was a
and thank you and obey.
But I'm free before and after them, with them and without them
are free in victory and in defeat.
My prison is my will!
The key to my prison is their language but their language
clings around the fingers of my
desire and my wish will never be able to tame.
am a woman.
believe that my freedom is their property
and I let him believe and
happen.
[Joumana Haddad (1970) Lebanon]
What Causes Small Wounds On The Tongue
Here's the new line Crazy8 sale from Monday .... wait to buy the F & F (see another post )!
Some things look a lot like last year's summer line, but there are some pieces not to be missed!
CIaoooo
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Watch Vietnamese Adult Movie
MY LOVE TO YOUR HEALTH (poetry)
Love, fly from the airplane with me
paper
of my imagination, ingenuity
with your sentiment. You'll flourish
lands full of magic and I will be the hair shaft to give you the highest
coolness and shelter.
Fa '
two arms of the two wings of an angel
and also brings to me a little' peace and
toy dream. But before you tell me something
see the genius in
flower of my heart.
paper
of my imagination, ingenuity
with your sentiment. You'll flourish
lands full of magic and I will be the hair shaft to give you the highest
coolness and shelter.
Fa '
two arms of the two wings of an angel
and also brings to me a little' peace and
toy dream. But before you tell me something
see the genius in
flower of my heart.
(Alda Merini)
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Brazillian Wax In Wisconsin
Dying must be like falling asleep after making love,
tired, calm and
with that sense of wonder that pervades everything.
(Piergiorgio Welby)
Monday, March 7, 2011
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Inexpensive Pro Camcorders
naked (poetry)
Nelle mie braccia tutta nuda
la città la sera e tu
il tuo chiarore l'odore dei tuoi capelli
si riflettono sul mio viso.
Di chi è questo cuore che batte
più forte delle voci e dell'ansito?
È tuo è della città è della notte
o forse è il mio cuore che batte forte?
Dove finisce la notte
dove comincia la città?
Dove finisce la città dove cominci tu?
Dove comincio e finisco io stesso?
(Nazim Hikmet) 
Nelle mie braccia tutta nuda
la città la sera e tu
il tuo chiarore l'odore dei tuoi capelli
si riflettono sul mio viso.
Di chi è questo cuore che batte
più forte delle voci e dell'ansito?
È tuo è della città è della notte
o forse è il mio cuore che batte forte?
Dove finisce la notte
dove comincia la città?
Dove finisce la città dove cominci tu?
Dove comincio e finisco io stesso?
(Nazim Hikmet)
Friday, March 4, 2011
6 Days Of Egg White Cervical Mucus
LITTLE STAR (poetry)
Chiamarti rosa, aurora, acqua fluente,
Chiamarti rosa, aurora, acqua fluente,
cos'è se non parole raccattate
tra i rifiuti d'altre lingue, d'altre bocche?
I misteri non sono quello che sembrano,
o non riescono a dirli le parole
nello spazio profondo, stelle poche.
(José Saramago)
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Dongle Emulator Freeware
# 55 - MOTHER AND SON Aleksandr Sokurov (Russia / Germany 1997)
2011 hours Tuesday, March 8 21:15
NEW CINEMA WHITE / photographers
FOR MOTHER AND CHILD by Aleksandr Sokurov (Russia / Germany 1997)
color, 73 min., The original version with subtitles
is the first part of a trilogy that continued with the director Father and Son (2003) and intends to conclude with Brother and sister, not yet realized.
The film is characterized by the very limited amount of dialogue, which leaves room for the sounds and silences of the environment, the times are extremely dilated and the images are often heavily manipulated and distorted through the use of mirrors, lenses and filters. The author said he was inspired by the paintings of Caspar David Friedrich, in particular the painting in Monaco by the sea. (From Wikipedia)
Fasten your seatbelts, your recommended
+ + + + projectionist
ps: here, if you found the trailer American. 
2011 hours Tuesday, March 8 21:15
NEW CINEMA WHITE / photographers
FOR MOTHER AND CHILD by Aleksandr Sokurov (Russia / Germany 1997)
color, 73 min., The original version with subtitles
is the first part of a trilogy that continued with the director Father and Son (2003) and intends to conclude with Brother and sister, not yet realized.
The film is characterized by the very limited amount of dialogue, which leaves room for the sounds and silences of the environment, the times are extremely dilated and the images are often heavily manipulated and distorted through the use of mirrors, lenses and filters. The author said he was inspired by the paintings of Caspar David Friedrich, in particular the painting in Monaco by the sea. (From Wikipedia)
Fasten your seatbelts, your recommended
+ + + + projectionist
ps: here, if you found the trailer American.
Eccogolf Shoes Malaysia
Surprise surprise I am very happy ...
.... to tell you that the next blue-orange line I do not like it at all ...
and I found one T-shirt to save:
ps. this time are more fortunate mothers of male children!
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Mw2 Change Language Patch
THE MAD FIDDLER (poetry)
not flowed from the street or from the north via the south
his music
wild for the first time in the village that day.
He appeared to 'suddenly in the path,
all came out to listen to
' suddenly went away, and in vain
hoped to see him again.
Its strange music infused in every heart a desire for freedom.
was not a melody, and
not even a melody.
In a place far away,
in a very remote place,
forced to live, they
heard a response to this sound.
response to that desire that everyone has in her womb,
the lost sense of belonging to research
forgotten. The happy bride saw
d 'etre malmaritata,
' s passionate and happy lover
tired of love again,
the girl and the boy were happy
's have only dreamed of,
the lonely hearts that were sad
felt less alone somewhere.
In every soul the flower bloomed
touch that leaves powder landless
the first hour of 'soul mate, that part which we
complete
' s shadow, which is to bless the unspoken depth
lapped the light concern
best of the rest. As
was left.
I felt like half-being.
Then, softly,
became confused with the silence and remembrance.
sleep again left their rice, their ecstatic hope
died, and soon forgot
that had passed.
However, when the sadness of life,
because life is not desired,
returns in 'hours of dreams,
with the sense of coolness,
suddenly everyone remembers - as the new moon shining
where the dream- Life turns to ashes -
the melody of the mad violinist. 
not flowed from the street or from the north via the south
his music
wild for the first time in the village that day.
He appeared to 'suddenly in the path,
all came out to listen to
' suddenly went away, and in vain
hoped to see him again.
Its strange music infused in every heart a desire for freedom.
was not a melody, and
not even a melody.
In a place far away,
in a very remote place,
forced to live, they
heard a response to this sound.
response to that desire that everyone has in her womb,
the lost sense of belonging to research
forgotten. The happy bride saw
d 'etre malmaritata,
' s passionate and happy lover
tired of love again,
the girl and the boy were happy
's have only dreamed of,
the lonely hearts that were sad
felt less alone somewhere.
In every soul the flower bloomed
touch that leaves powder landless
the first hour of 'soul mate, that part which we
complete
' s shadow, which is to bless the unspoken depth
lapped the light concern
best of the rest. As
was left.
I felt like half-being.
Then, softly,
became confused with the silence and remembrance.
sleep again left their rice, their ecstatic hope
died, and soon forgot
that had passed.
However, when the sadness of life,
because life is not desired,
returns in 'hours of dreams,
with the sense of coolness,
suddenly everyone remembers - as the new moon shining
where the dream- Life turns to ashes -
the melody of the mad violinist.
(F. Pessoa)
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