perché la bellezza è necessaria.
mercoledì 29 agosto 2012
domenica 26 agosto 2012
sketch di un romanzo/sceneggiatura/fumetto da fare. intermezzi.
Erano
dei giorni assolati in un campo di riposo in terza linea, e tutti si
riposavano prendendo il sole.
Il
Tenente, con gli occhiali neri, la testa rasata, il torso e i piccoli
seni ricoperti da goccioline di sudore, i pantaloni mimetici
rivoltati fino ai ginocchi e le infradito nere ai piedi, era molto
accaldata e eccitante... arrivata alla sedia a sdraio, ci si appoggiò
e chiuse gli occhi.
giovedì 23 agosto 2012
Ittoogami e i ghei (bis)
Sono
rimasto molto stupito dal fatto che un post sostanzialmente leggero e
personale come Itto
ogami e i ghei... abbia avuto un certo successo di
clikkaggio... Quindi, essendo il sottoscritto uno a cui piace il
successo, ne produrrò un altro. Questa, però, non è per niente una
storia allegra.
sabato 11 agosto 2012
Jean McConville. The black bowels of the monster
Personal
Prologue:
In the early 90's, me and three friends of mine went on holiday in the Republic of Ireland. Beautiful country, bad food (1), wonderful people. Taking a Grand Tour, we found ourself near the Ulster's border. One of my friends insisted to see in the other part, and we entered in Northern Ireland. It was an unpleasant experience. The small town we visited was the same as any other city across the border, except for books on the SAS (Special Air Service) in the windows of the library and the British flag waving from a flagpole. The only real difference was the attitude of the people. In Ireland no one cared, and when we were recognized as foreigners, the people were friendly at 99% of occasions. In Northern Ireland, however, what the people noticed we as foregners, they staring at us like we were B.E.M.s . My freaky friend insisted to go to Belfast or Derry, but in practice we loaded him in the car and fled to the south.
At that time, the "Troubles" had lasted 35 years.
In the early 90's, me and three friends of mine went on holiday in the Republic of Ireland. Beautiful country, bad food (1), wonderful people. Taking a Grand Tour, we found ourself near the Ulster's border. One of my friends insisted to see in the other part, and we entered in Northern Ireland. It was an unpleasant experience. The small town we visited was the same as any other city across the border, except for books on the SAS (Special Air Service) in the windows of the library and the British flag waving from a flagpole. The only real difference was the attitude of the people. In Ireland no one cared, and when we were recognized as foreigners, the people were friendly at 99% of occasions. In Northern Ireland, however, what the people noticed we as foregners, they staring at us like we were B.E.M.s . My freaky friend insisted to go to Belfast or Derry, but in practice we loaded him in the car and fled to the south.
At that time, the "Troubles" had lasted 35 years.
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