Monday, December 22, 2008

How Does Non Reporting Probation Work?

Lighting

Some time ago someone had a brilliant idea

Sunday, December 21, 2008

Bryan And Andrew Place In Greece

what I believe ... a Christmas gift



abandoned the blog for lack of time, I make a brief reflection on the past and what still must scroll .


Some time ago I was in Kenya, another African country full of history and future.

One was that a few months ago he met one of the darkest moments of its post colonial history, genocide without notice accompanied by the consent of its political candidates in the presidential election.

A country of green plateaus where the British lived during the colonial age, and arabesque architecture of coastal cities, so hot that even the devil himself could not withstand the heat.

The country of the father of Barak Obama, where the image of the new U.S. president-elect will follow you like the look of the Mona Lisa, anywhere.

When we talk of Africa often tend to generalize:

The Dark Continent where people are as colorful.

The poor continent where people dance well.

The continent of drums punching the heavens.

The continent where the sun rises in the bigger mountains.

The continent of genocide and tales around the campfire.

The Invisible Continent.

How much truth in this, I leave to the curious eyes the pleasure of discovery and creative minds trying to imagine.

For me however, I think along the lines of a twisted past of suffering and injustice of a destiny shared by all African countries, a subject of cultural diversity with pride that the people of this continent, says in his songs, in its storytelling and, unfortunately, even in their wars.

My trip to Nairobi was just that, a dedicated and total immersion in a variety of 'proud of herself Africa: Cameroon, Senegal, Ghana, Liberia, Uganda, Rwanda, Burundi, Kenya, Mozambique, Côte d 'Ivoire, Ethiopia, and others were still many countries in the African Humanist Forum II to which we all participated with great joy by the 26 November 29 al.

The Strength of Diversity and Non-Violence was the motto of the Forum and these words rang in our ears and guide us in discussions that lasted into the night. What was being discussed and tried with total conviction were the different possible solutions and desirable to build a better future for Africa and, in general, for a human race still chained to the harsh rules of a game decided by a few.

Four days of intense dialogue, coexistence and mutual understanding have passed with the right rhythm, while in the wide spaces of the KIE (Kenyan Institute of Education ) hosting us followed each other with determination our successful attempt to join a direct active attitude towards the possibility of a profound human change, the importance of being able to share with so many different people, the emotions.

If our intentions were hurled flaming arrows into the sky, the firmament would have blinded our sight with its splendor.

If our words had been scattered c ome seeds on the ground, the entire planet would be sprouted under our feet.

I saw it for the first time appear before my eyes an embryo, even to feed and to feed, what a day I'd like to be the world where I live.

A world not without its misunderstandings, indecision, differences and silences, yet a world of respect, building, reconciliation, opportunities, sharing and, above all, non-violence.

A world really HUMAN .

And as I write these words I can think of a person ...

Remember these words?

I have a dream today!

I have a dream That one day Every Valley Shall Be Exalted, and Every hill and mountain Shall Be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; "and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together.

With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope.

With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.**

E voi...

Avete mai passato la notte insonne thinking about the direction you would like to take your life?

Have you ever paid attention to the importance of your actions?

Did you ever think that you are actively participating in the construction of our story?

Have you ever shared with another human being sure of the strength of the union?

Have you ever felt revulsion toward violence and injustice?

you at least once in your life sought justice and truth?

Have you ever heard in the center of your chest a burning never explode in an irrepressible joy?

Have you ever thought, if only for a moment, that change is possible?

I will ...

with emotion, this is my Christmas gift to you.


Always aim to tc ompleta harmony of thought and words and deeds.


** I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plans and the crooked places straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all living beings, shall see it together. And 'This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South

With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood.

Monday, September 15, 2008

Pin Strokes Aftercare

08_09_08

I would like to eliminate everything that concerns you,
I remember you.
I realize that it would be too much stuff
and then alone.
I could do it, but there is one thing that I can not throw,
and it's my heart, because you will
always there.

Saturday, August 23, 2008

Stacey Fields Farting

Hi :-) Sorry and thanks

Thank
for every time your eyes gave me a smile,
for every time you smile has given me light in his eyes
for spending time with me, and me
gave your friendship.

Thursday, July 17, 2008

Planning A Church Anniversary Celebration



insulted and my way of "love."
is why I am easily as breathing.
My apologies you do not need more, I know.
Teach me to change the way we breathe, unless I stop
"love."

Monday, June 23, 2008

What Does One Nipple Pierced Mean On A Woman

Words

If what I say does not is dictated by the heart,
then please stop.
Do not waste time and words.
know that every sound they make
is important for me,
so please, do not make me hope
vacuum

Holly Willoughby Birthday

Cry

stop the rain I want to know if my tears stop
wet my face.

I realize now that the sky is still crying out,
while my cheeks are dry.

Thursday, June 12, 2008

Can I Grow Saffron In The North East

Where you live

Try not to love means to die,
because you can not hold your breath life.
not feel like reading a book is in an unknown language,
no sense.
Do not touch me cause less pain of not loving you.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Change Russian To English Mw2

remember

I saw in the distance,
your line but I was already well clear.
I've redesigned my mind on a piece
and all matched the reality.
I had to unsubscribe,
I realized that your line does not vanish.

Tuesday, June 3, 2008

Remove Microsoft Office2007 Wizard

Beautiful Bebe

Thursday, May 29, 2008

White Spot On Dog Penis

Out of sight

Friday, May 23, 2008

Images Of Rasta Colors

NO COMMENT











Thursday, May 22, 2008

Can I Crush My Can Of Diced Tomatoes

Mozambicans A fire!



Here is the story that fills the ears and eyes of all Mozambicans in these days:

Five Mozambicans flee promptly from South Africa.
25 deaths.
lynching. (Nigerians seem strangely unable to escape from the new wave of xenophobic).
are beaten men, women and even children arrive at the border Ressano Garcia injured and terrified, their lives are now like ghosts in the shadow of violence.
"We steal their jobs. We are hurt because of them! If you must go." In South Africa these days
breathe deeply of the heavy air of ethnic hatred, which reeks of hunger and poverty.
will be looked for foreigners, immigrants (a category that includes those who leave their country
Poor to look for work elsewhere, usually by agreeing to perform the same functions that the citizens of the receiving country does not want to do. They fill the coffers of the tax foreign country and send money to their homeland.'m billion on the planet).
Obviously in a country like South Africa, the only car driving the economy of Southern Africa, After the plunge into the abyss of no return of Zimbabwe immigrants abound, and have mostly Mozambican nationality.
Mozambique.
The neighboring country has offered asylum to members of the ANC during apartheid, which is fattening and expand visibly every weekend border cities such as Nelspruit. The country that hosts the Great Baba Mandela who, in addition to prefer Mozambique for his rheumatism worse drive South African winter, he also married a Mozambican, and not some (Josina Machel, wife of the first president of independence, killed in an attack, and a symbol for the value and strength of the Mozambican Women's Mozambique and Africa in general). A beautiful couple.
The country that sent cheap labor for centuries, thanks to which South Africa, apartheid or not, has the largest mining industry in Africa.

But I will not dwell on the history and politics, which naturally gorge themselves on large pig who is about to be cooked to poison the masses.
I would draw your attention to the fact that it appears that once again we had deluded. A
'other sheep ran away from the herd without notice! Another revolt, more anger, more hatred and fire. More screams in the air that terrorize our ears that would not know anything right these bad stories of other countries.
But who would have thought? But what will now
Mozambique all these people fleeing their homes, jobs, money and family often? Will be in Maputo? Violence and crime will increase ...
will be another Zimbabwe?
And if they start to take it with white people?
But who is behind it all?
And because the police does not intervene?

I do not know that there are faces behind this new African history. Probably there is the will to destabilize the government, the involvement of organized crime, the elections are approaching, in the end we talk about people of Soweto, the poor wretches who kill each other ...
But one thing is for sure! A certainty that I began to inflate the stomach ... I see it, is the ...
I see his hand putting fire to the living people, I see it beating the kids, I see her old friend to point the finger at immigrants who will be lynched.
is the hand of the suffering and poverty. It is the hand of the unjust world in which we live.
and anger that millions of people try to wake up in the morning to those who have and will have more and more of them.
E 'Injustice.
E 'hate.
E 'Violence of the poor on the poor.
And there's no escape as long as things continue to go this way.

Tonight, as I write these words, I wonder of my thoughts ... this does not surprise me that much.

Sunday, April 13, 2008

Free Computer Desks Blueprints

mail became a post ... for the sake of writing and communication

Hello to all and all ... hopefully this is not a group email Forward sottotilata but it is a sincere greeting that I send you from the land of mayhem (as before Amado said, referring to Brazil and as I say I am referring to what is perhaps more than the mayhem or is the extreme limit of the world forgot: Africa-Mozambique).

Since I live here it seems to me that this country has filled my days so as not to realize that during these seven months my innermost subcutaneous part has undergone a profound transformation ... very similar to what I would call almost fearful existential leap . So, this country ... ... Mozambique has ceased to be one of the many ghost of the globe were " cheddiosolosadovediavoloè " but has made a living character in my life experience so much that new person before my very eyes clouded by a flight of Occidentalism.

Why do you write? Maybe some of you are months or years and can not feel them even more than I see them ... but equally I want to share a quick thought about this last experience in Africa.

few days ago I returned from a trip to a distant place in the center of Mozambique, called Caia. A small provincial town crossed by the enormous Zambezi River, which for its strange appearance, covers the territory a thousand rivulets winding its inhabitants into his arms silver. A wonderful ... I can swear.

The work has led me on these devices lands of sub outskirts of the modern world. The school twinning project, for which you work, provided for a two week trip with a group of Bologna and the Mozambican capital (Maputo for the uninitiated) to an elementary school zona.Il planned program was made and passed: a wonderful mural with colored drawings of children and is about the school wall, a beautiful theater made by children in language Sena, rugby! (Think of African children playing rugby ... hilarious!) And hypnotic dances, such as plastic pipes and drums, and older women stamped their feet in the ground ancestral awakening energy, laughter, misunderstandings, and pellebianca pellenera, mosquitoes, malaria, moist, silence, endless skies, imbondeiros (baobab) 1000 years old, fishing, a myriad of impressions of little feet on clay and children and babies and children ...

For those who have never been to Africa, you will never account what I mean when I say CHILDREN. Africa is full of human beings from 0 to 13 years! are many wonderful ... and of course like all children. Only those who Caia now have something special, as are the red ones left by the Little Prince on the planet. There were so many roses as the Little Prince ... yet she knew that this was special ... just for the time that he had spent ...

My children opened something inside of me the sight of the human panorama! The Poverty running in those places and filling the bellies of children, the one that breaks down to the last wire-shirts that inevitably discover, rather than cover, the dark little bodies, one that makes walking miles to a tank of water. It 'a poverty that makes you get high and moves you to be absolutely just another spectator of something that you had already told but which had not yet seen the faces with your eyes. And now I understand, to distance in time, when Alex Zanotelli said in an interview "that you should never remove the faces!

Dear friends, I pursue it for many years in Africa, I have searched everywhere even when he was away, I tasted some imagine, glimpsed and loved, but now that I have reached I understand the reason for such intense hunger. This week THE EDGE OF THE WORLD I have filled my heart, I was spoiled, I have fed and rocked the night when the moon rose yellow gold on the blue mantle. I was awakened at dawn with the cry of some beast ready to die, I have soaked the clothes of a smell, I have dirty feet and hands constantly, and I got slapped so hard that his head still suits me fine.

In Mozambique AFRICA would say that the NAO is brincadeira (no joke) ... and that it is not! ... But we have not even joking. Even If the poor smile and have fun, then it does not mean that things are not so bad ... NO!

The people in this world is evil dear my dear friends, most people in this world of hell will never have the chance to have a tenth of what your parents did at our age ( you have any age) ... even if you have already said, I know , I must repeat ... and is not a chant, nor a moral or lesson of life, not a "think of the children of Biafra" (imaginary place of our childhood European Union), is not history or politics, not blame, is not recommended. It is not "nothing" ... just a strong emotion that exploded in my heart and I wanted to share with you.



Tuesday, March 18, 2008

What Causes Gaggin In Morning

Goodbye (reflections of an old travel)


jumping from one thought to another.

Follow the sad melody of a voice that fades with time.

The fear of not arriving until tomorrow, the fear of death that is gripping the limbs,

death that touches us only in that in that exact space separates you and me,

the death of the heart, the spirit

death and resurrection for ever and ever.

God, you send a messenger, which brings with it

of embroidered fabrics for a story, a story that starts elsewhere, a memory that can not be forgotten.

Loose limbs in the sea,

an entire ocean to separate myself from what I hold in my heart,

the distance to return to a time where the warriors danced on earth,

sustained by his blood, divine beings flew away like an arrow in the sky ....

arch our hands are stained with the blood to paint a smile and wash our hands, so that's all

past.

back to you and I wait,

perhaps on a beach will be a meeting, perhaps in a cave,

already in the dream and thought ... every day and every night.

I wait for you to come and join me for the souls in a single breath, to relive the past in our bodies.

Your magic touch on the skin

your hair wind and sun on your back

A whisper

A caress

A moment of our lives.

back to you as naked as the child sacred.

come back full of words and gestures,

under your breasts to grow stronger as the wind and quick as lightning.

And when you feed them, I have grown with my breasts,

bread for your mouth,

My legs your streets

My uterus your secrets

My mouth your memory.

will rest inside a flower at the sound of the caves,

singing of the earth.

Urla Urla this land

your skin moist for a kiss ...

Your squares packed with crowds,

local bar full of light and voices,

while I wait for my coffee and talk about something that I've ever seen.

A twinge you feel when ... but I must leave, take it or leave

.

And I always leave for another try and again and again, until the wheel turns and runs toward the bottom of the cart.

Who leaves the old road to the new ... will have his reasons.

know what ... let into the houses of his city, into the hearts of lovers and mothers.

not know what that is ... to me it's okay.

Thursday, March 6, 2008

What Are Raw Diamonds

Diversity of Being The Unbearable

My desire to Africa started long time ago, maybe eight years ago, moment by moment, not more, because of that first love that you never forget. Although sometimes I think it was even earlier than that, as if he had experienced before, like a pulse-memory irrational. Persecuting them. Until now, that is until, for a series of events and "coincidences" I decided to come to Africa to live in this!

Why? Everyone asks me.

For Love ... but that's another story.

hours and then I find myself faced with a choice of life that takes shape in the days that follow one another in disbelief myself in front of the force that is assuming that instead of the infinite possible ways I could go and that ... and I did not take.

But there is a thought that hammers my head every day.

My false memory annihilates me. Crowded corner of the brain where thoughts and memories and ideas and backgrounds- imaginative turns out to be completely ineffective in front of the daily reality for the simple reason of being the result of a projection and not a living.

The double-edged weapon of unknown cause that cuts off the membrane that separates a sentitodire a personal recollection.

Someone told me that "the knowledge only becomes wisdom when it becomes personal experience," and now I feel like throwing away all the stories, dialogues, reports that I've been made in ' this period of time. I feel like throwing them behind me, as for luck, symbolizing the advance compelling a new world, my world.

and take a look at this New World I wipe my feet on the streets of Maputo with lightness, as if trying not to leave no footprint on the land of red dirt and the sidewalks almost non-existent ... relics of a past colonial, so close and sad.

And how do you go from one of the seven most developed countries in the world to one that is not among the final 10? How do you make that big a jump without breaking your neck??

know how many numbers go from 7 to 157?? No ... not 150.

There are millions.

million.

Millions of souls.

And there are millions of souls who look at you with suspicion and / or curiosity while taking a walk in their streets, including their homes, getting your feet up to ankles ...

Why whites here can only get in new cars and on foot walking in the area of \u200b\u200bthe museum, away from the drains open. Away from home caged behind thick iron bars and double houses to escape the prison ladrão .

And you know what to make of here ladroes? Burn them alive! My Holy God! Put them in an old tire and so on ... a life less, a little like the time of the Inquisition but with less theology behind, I think.

And my amazement grows in knowing that the inquiries conducted in elementary-age children reveal that they too are in complete agreement: "We need their own justice because the police does not do it." And then burn 'em away these thieves of hens, DVD, television, bread, rice and cried ...

But who would have thought so quiet that people could express such cruelty?

And then I I ask WHY?

But I find no answer.

Yes, because I'm sick of sociological and historical analysis or psycho-sociological or historical and psychological.

There is something rotten in humanity anywhere in the world you are, or what the reason.

My day starts at 8 o'clock in the morning when I wake up quietly after a night of love, I'm preparing, loading the computer and go back to work.

I leave the green door leaving behind houses as white as snow, nestled in a row and quiet. Machines of € 25 000 are parked waiting for someone to put in motion to go passeggio.Un dog barks every time step, a cocker hysterical and bored. The guard kindly opened my door and I to fly away to my day.

through the street and a slight drizzle wet clothes, I stop and wait for the first chapa that goes and puts the yellow arrow, staggering like a drunk too much oil that spits out black smoke as a lung cancer . The chapa fffffrena loudly and croic croic stops opened the door of purgatory.

All inside the firm, attached back to back, belly to belly, stuck together by a common destiny.

Come on.

The chapa coughing, moaning and limping again, like every day, every month, every year until the collapse.

Yet it is all so human in there.

Wednesday, March 5, 2008

Would Flea Fogger Kill Lice

Fire and flames in Maputo!

few weeks ago, the suffocating reality of contradiction hanging by a thread in which I move is revealed in its most hideous dress: urban violence.
Behind the faces of sincere astonishment and rage choked citizens of Maputo on the brink of disaster gathered in the streets to protest against the increase of public transport, chapa, creaky private vans, the main means of long distance transportation.
tires burned, barred roads, phrases shouted, lynchings, shootings, deaths and injuries. The people no aguenta , can not do it and explodes in the face of a government full of good words and undecided whether to respond to the people or carriers. Meanwhile, the police fired, arrested and beaten with what ever method of summary justice of the visitors there. No matter if you have really done something wrong, the protest is never welcome anywhere, and as always the answer to violence is always and only an even greater violence. To terrorize, to soothe the soul, as quickly as possible to plug the hole opened in the eyes of those who helplessly for a new episode of injustice and abject poverty.
Because it is survival and a minimum wage too close to zero to allow people to cope with a shipping price doubled overnight. Here among the poor is not indifferent to the penny falls from our purse to distraction.
The protest continued for days, the school Armando Guebuza (current president of the country) is attacked as a sign of refusal to the government, who will lose are the children who study there. Growing robberies. The machines are made with stones in the street. No one leaves. People are being beaten. Parents are afraid for their children they must go back to school. The streets are quiet, the night falls during the day.
The night is the fear that a second outbreak Nairobi, Kinshasa, Kigali, Freetown, Luanda, Bujumbura ...
The night is sure to be immune ...
The night is the victory of the violence on itself.