tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72123748139382290162024-02-08T02:44:15.572+00:00theworlwidestoryprojectThe worldwide story project has the aim to create a story composed by "writers" around the world.
Read the FAQUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger22125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7212374813938229016.post-58121342170861045532010-07-13T18:15:00.002+01:002010-07-13T18:17:52.805+01:00365 days ago365 days ago <br />seems a life <br />yes so true a life who passed<br />started to go<br />whenever is<br />I wish<br />is waiting for me <br />365 cries <br />365 smiles missed<br />365 kisses<br />365 lies<br />365 wounds<br />365 stars<br />365 shouts<br />and 1 life<br />just goneUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7212374813938229016.post-49758282648678898042010-04-21T10:18:00.002+01:002010-04-21T10:22:57.047+01:00The advices of the heartDo not remember me because I could be<br />lover, mother, friend, angel<br />Remember me because I was<br />a human being<br />meat and heart<br />blood and tears<br />Do not remember my name<br />to remind you that you had a dream<br />Remember the name<br />to forget in the days<br />when life will seem too real<br />Do not remember my lips<br />bitten in the morning<br />Remember the bitter taste<br />when you 'had them no more<br />Do not remember the warmth of my skin<br />moving between the lines of your body<br />Remember the cold<br />of your embrace that was not true<br />Do not remember the smiles<br />lying under the summer sun<br />Remember the vacuum urle<br />who left an eclipse<br />on what we called<br />love<br /><br />Lisbon (Apr 2010)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7212374813938229016.post-7213310209035910152010-04-12T19:24:00.002+01:002010-04-12T19:29:21.683+01:00Without hurtingWho will pay<br />the victim<br />or the executioner?<br />I go away<br />I am not sure<br />who will feel loneliness<br /><br />I'm leaving tonight<br />feeling nostalgic<br />and now who knows how many<br />times changing the idea<br />that you got of me ...<br />our story cry<br />that smell of good simplicity<br />can you cure the soul<br />away, <br /><br />but without hurting the hands!<br />It 's so that changing places and getting lost,<br />I'm here to ask romantic gesture,<br />My Majesty <br />the court<br />outside<br />there is a bunch indomitable<br /><br />I am sure who is killed by nostalgia,<br />and now who knows how many castles crumble down.<br /><br />Our tale is cryng,<br />that smell of good fragility<br />can I cure the soul<br />departing<br />but without getting hurt<br /><br />Without hurting yourselfUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7212374813938229016.post-34921071747483332742010-04-06T20:04:00.001+01:002010-04-06T20:04:22.689+01:00PeaceThe immense life breeze<br />pushes away like to fail<br />on clear skies<br />one step away when life die<br />birds and branches still in your eyes<br />you climb to the top with those knees <br />and the whole world will breath down<br />to make you rock<br />and watch the sun again<br />then closethe eyes as ever <br />and ask forgiveness if<br />brother sometimes you made me hurt<br />I could be like you<br />a magician and an angel immortal<br />Peace to us that we had many times<br />lost the light of simplicity<br />when it was the day of the born <br />and the first cry was a cry<br />and the child is a man<br />that dunno how to say<br />his name<br />but he was flying above a meadow<br />and its wings were opened<br />guidance of those poets<br />that one day strayed<br />Peace to whom dunno how love everyday<br />what they do not have <br />and what they dunno to have forever<br />lost in the chasm between the risk and fear<br />Peace to you for what you gave<br />and for everything you never gave <br />and so never alone found a heart<br />perhaps a human one<br />under a sky <br />maybe caged by branches<br />now you can feel free<br />a man<br />in peace<br /><br />C.AUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7212374813938229016.post-31716011028770538602010-03-30T18:46:00.004+01:002010-03-30T18:57:34.636+01:00Lost in thoughts - RibeiraOla como va <br />that beautiful wind stopped <br />considers that it is spring in me <br />since half an hour<br />but heaven has only one door<br /><br />did you stop hurting ?<br />with your fragile thoughts<br />Did you begin to make peace with yourself?<br />you<br />Living everything up in the shadows<br /><br />I like you, you say<br />but you are not able to love as you<br />pray <br /><br />writing from here<br />here a place<br />also your land <br />is how to make you breathe <br />what I breathe<br />looking <br />that white ship from one hour<br /><br />I like you, you say<br />you do not deserve the worst of me, no, not you<br />say<br /><br />and is not for hurry<br />and is not for the distance<br />all live and live without you<br /><br />I write to you to hear<br />I'm writing timeless<br />what I cannot say for fear<br /><br />that what I feel about you is strong<br />what I feel about you is that you always ...<br />will be in a song<br /><br />I like you ... you say<br />but unable to love<br /><br />here or a long ago<br />you will have the sea<br />take your life and do not ever feel guilty<br />the will decide again<br /><br />I like you you say<br />but heaven has only one door, <br />open itUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7212374813938229016.post-66640586120431680112010-03-24T01:06:00.007+00:002010-03-24T01:46:07.707+00:00- Pensieri -Thoughts - PesadelosAllora è cosi', si deve essere così, cammini piano e ti pare sempre che è una corsa, tu provi a chiudere questo libro, ma il libro si apre sempre alla stessa pagina, come gambe aperte si quel giorno...<br />Le gambe aperte un rivolo di sangue, la paura di aver desiderato l'inevitabile e trovarselo li', la corsa, il letto bianco, la vergogna di sentirsi sporchi, la ricerca di una mano nell'aria che ti stringa, che ti salvi e che non c'è non vuole esserci, sparita altrove...la corsa cieca e il rumore fisso di un indicatore del tuo cuore.<br />... le gambe aperte spalancate alla luce di un neon..<br />... il puzzo di niente un vuoto un pieno e poi le voci...<br />il riflesso convulso dei tuoi muscoli chiudersi... il grido sordo che ti partiva dal ventre e poi vergogna silenzio...silenzio <br /><br />....un buon samaritano che ti asciuga le lacrime, angelo bianco che non sa la tua storia....<br />... dolore sordo nei crampi del tuo addome... cerchi quel pezzo perso...eppure non la chiamano vita<br /><br />Allora è così la mano ondeggia nel vuoto, arriva al petto con la paura di scendere in basso...<br />pensando a dove sia il limite di un essere umano...<br />ma è così si, un bicchierino di ceneri, è la legge, è la legge no??!!<br />... il buon samaritano ti passa la mano in fronte... parole... cercavi una parola ...ma è lontano<br /><br />Allora è così sì ti butti nella vita, le gambe fanno male, il rivolo di sangue si mescola al mercurio alla base del tuo ventre<br />... corri' sotto la doccia.. trasini i piedi... come stessi andando alla fucilazione...<br />Strusci la spugna lenta forte lenta forte<br /><br />Allora è cosi' esci dal bagno e sul tavolino il bicchierino di ceneri ti guarda,e tu lo sai che quella sei solo tu.<br />Allora è cosi' che vincono i codardi, ti pieghi, la testa tra le gambe e la mano è li' che stringe l'aria<br />Allora è così il grido sordo è muto, non poteva rimbombare nelle lunghezze delle necessità altrui...<br />Allora sì è così che ci si sciaqua il cuore<br />... e come è che non riesci a sentire l'odio...perchè sei nata per non odiare???...<br />... assurdo... il dolore risale la gola... è sordo ... è muto... un sasso che ti scagli contro ogni giorno... Basta che scorra e scorra e scorra... un fiume un mare..<br />Allora sì è così il bicchierino di ceneri da seppellire e quella mano che non ci sarà mai... ma a cosa ti serve quella mano sporca del tuo sangue?... <br />Allora sì è così non l'ho letto su un libro non l'ho visto sulla rete non è un film è questa vita in mezzo ai codardi, i finti padri, le buone donne di famiglia.<br />Allora si' capisco capisco ma non mi adatto... il bicchierino è vuoto, le ceneri sotto terra... senza nome... il nome ce 'hai dentro in fondo al rantolo sordo della morte che ti correva di fianco.<br />Allora si capisco è un solo un pensiero nella notte... deve essere così il suo nomeUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7212374813938229016.post-16392812481749391102010-03-19T17:45:00.004+00:002010-03-19T17:50:46.839+00:00Poetry 6 - GuardatiGuardati<br />negli occhi porti la pena<br />ti senti uomo<br />raccontandomi una nuova scena<br />Poetica<br />come l'ultimo schema<br />ci stai dentro contento<br />ti crogioli lento<br />Guardati<br />bocca piena di arte<br />ti senti sereno<br />entra bene nella parte<br />Eretica<br />la verità non esiste<br />e il dubbio persiste<br />Guardati<br />padre di buoni esempi<br />mentitore ai venti<br />cresciuto in questi tempi<br />Roccia<br />senza cuore<br />vagabondo nella fecciaUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7212374813938229016.post-79499812564582626012010-01-21T20:31:00.002+00:002010-01-21T20:51:47.263+00:00Poetry 5 - June 2009let me go away<br />make me free<br />from this prison<br />let me go away<br />spare me<br />another litany<br />do not<br />say you love me<br />none will hear us<br />for us<br />will speak henceforth<br />just the ties<br />come on<br />minute's silence<br />today it is off a dream<br />count until one hundred<br />and return to live<br />because you need<br />and if you go away, go to a place out<br />hand<br />or not<br />find a place unreachable<br />and the end will fall<br />in this movie screen without<br />you and I as a still picture<br />actors and spectators<br />let me go away<br />call the police<br />I have just killed away<br />your pretty fun<br />To save me from the pain<br />I could not suffer<br />none should suffer more<br />but make love until madness<br />let me go away<br />the time get cured<br />the time that fucking doctor<br />found at the crossroads <br />is time<br />off the cross and so 'is<br />let me go away<br />help me<br />in this euthanasia<br />we will love no longer here but through<br />what in other days we will find<br />and in the return of jealousy<br />and so<br />pay the Executioner<br />die of boredom or homesickness<br />dead and never wound<br />let me go away<br />you go to ask kisses and another life<br />find a women, dreamlender<br />Let me go away<br />Tell God that's over between us<br />it would have called it then<br />our "truman show"<br />well is time also for us<br />inside this dirty bad<br />called world<br />let me go away<br />it 'is what it is,but not let it be so'<br />then call it a mad poetry<br />let me go away<br />forgive youself<br />This cowardice<br />let me go away<br />Do it for me<br />let me get away from you ...<br /><br />SometimesUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7212374813938229016.post-13529532621382921402010-01-15T19:14:00.003+00:002010-01-15T19:20:20.135+00:00Poetry 4 - It is...It is what it is<br />call it as it is<br />If it was it was <br />call it a remember <br />It will be what will be<br />but do not call it future<br />It could be what could be<br />do not stop on hope<br />It is just a drop<br />passed too fast <br />but not the last<br />the name is unknown <br />the feeling is a little breathe <br />seemed a storm to pull you down<br />watched sitted on this horizon<br />is just a miserable <br />human beingUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7212374813938229016.post-67039472144348291702010-01-15T19:07:00.002+00:002010-01-15T19:08:42.596+00:00Poetry 3 - S CammarrierePer ricordarmi di te <br />Ombre trafiggono il mare <br />Come le stelle che cadono <br />E non si accendono più <br />E passa un cielo di nuvole <br />Mentre mi piove nell’anima <br />Sono stagioni che vanno lontano <br />E non tornano più <br />Per ricordarmi di te <br />Della tua bocca di maggio <br />E’ solo un gioco ma credimi <br />Non c’entra niente con te <br />Perchè stanotte é la mia <br />E devo andare lontano <br />Ovunque il vento mi porterà <br />Voglio vedere che c’è <br />Per ricordarmi di te <br />Sono salito su un treno <br />Ed ho pensato che un giorno <br />Magari t’incontrerò <br />Senza più niente tra noi <br />Senza passare da dove sai, dove sai <br />Senza passare da dove sai <br />Quando i miei sogni saranno <br />Rimasti ormai dietro di me <br />Per ricordarmi di te <br />Per ricordarmi di te <br />Ore sfinite dai giorni <br />E dagli attesi ritorni <br />E treni senza di te <br />Perché ci vuole coraggio <br />Ci vuole molta speranza <br />Quando l’estate cadrà in una stanza <br />Lontano da teUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7212374813938229016.post-20361043477827502182009-12-30T17:56:00.003+00:002009-12-30T18:02:17.148+00:00Poetry II - What ifWhat if <br />life was a smile<br />how many teeth needed?<br />What if <br />cries were water<br />in which sea they would end?<br />What if<br />the hate was a chair<br />there would be room for the unfair?<br />What if<br />lies were rose petals<br />who would have the bigger garden?<br />What if<br />What if<br />the silence of a night <br />would give you words<br />would it be the answer<br />to this immense...<br />What ifUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7212374813938229016.post-14954199208878935522009-12-18T23:45:00.005+00:002009-12-19T01:43:40.725+00:00Poetry - I - The kiss - Today I miss youToday I miss you<br />and it is like when...<br />the breathe stops into your throat..<br />as a sea empty nor a boat.<br />Today I miss you<br />as the moment of a kiss <br />when your eyes stay closed<br />and your brain fall in a fool desire<br />Today I miss you<br />the eyes where was written my face<br />that scratch on the left side down the mouth <br />where my lips found the best place<br />Today I miss you<br />like walking on the point of naked feet<br />to not hear the cold of the floor<br />walking fast to let this pain get a bit sweet<br />Today I miss you<br />and there is no relief <br />no struggle of soul<br />Today I miss you<br />that you <br />who makes me rock<br />who stool my road<br />who brought me at the horizon<br />that you<br />who painted dreams of glass<br />so weak <br />so full of you<br />and it is for this<br />that after that the wave passed<br />and sea struggled with the rock<br />of my existence so empty<br />all I can do<br />... is just missing you<br />who?<br /> <br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/4p194hHT40Y&hl=it_IT&fs=1&color1=0x006699&color2=0x54abd6"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/4p194hHT40Y&hl=it_IT&fs=1&color1=0x006699&color2=0x54abd6" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7212374813938229016.post-82892301125680614932009-11-24T22:21:00.006+00:002009-11-24T22:59:34.830+00:00The lady who was looking for her party - Chapter 6Isabel entered the kitchen, the brown wood of the furnishing seemed one with the floor, she took the floor and started to prepare the bread of the poor, the pizza.<br />For once her mind went back to when she was a kid, and she tripped in an out "monastery"<br />The nuns told her that food is the first way of gifting the love through the gifts more poor as cooking the bread was the melting of the most poor ingredient, the pizza was a tentative once of a poor cooker, to enjoy the dinner of a king, he studied all a night to understand, how to enjoy him, but then his son, a kid so young and little to not arrive to the table of the kitchen with the nose,entered the room playing with a ball done of old tissues, illuminated he tought, if a kid enjoy playing with tissues creating the idea of a ball, well I will do the most easy think to do and the king will enjoy it.It was so true.<br />Every Saturday when she was in her "new family" she runned down the stairs of the big house of her gramma, in silence, without making noises, she sitted in a corner on a litle char of wood down a window, from there she could see the table of marble.<br />The white of floor melted with the white of salt and the grey of lievit becoming bread in the hands of her gramma, and then mixed to the red of the tomatoes of sooth italy.<br />There in the corner she listened her gramma histories :<br /><em>"you know God created human being like that, in a second, scientists doctors experts lost her life with the same questions, why?, but who mind of the reason why bread is so unique in this world, and the salt so salty as the sea or tomatoes is so red at the sun? few , so anyone should enjoy the presence of human being as they enjoy a pizza, and life would be more easy"</em>.<br />The gramma knew she was there, but that she pretened to be not discovered, so every time she was there talking alone to the air,telling every time a new story. <br /><br /><br />Isabel was in the kitchen smiling, she was away in time and space from her gramma, but she was there cooking the same pizza, her sight went back to the room,for the first time she noted a little chair of wood, she had never noted it and now it seemed a bit more a presence there to remember her the line of this life.<br />That chair was there before she started to be there, none had bought it, it was already part of the furnishing,when they entered in the apartment.<br />She went on melting floor with an energic movement of arms.<br />The main door opened and the guy came out, entering as a little wisper of the wind.<br /><blockquote>"Hey girl I am hungry,I think you get bored today"</blockquote><br />Isabel smiled <br /><blockquote>"No I had a series of explorations"</blockquote><br /><blockquote>"uhm I do not see where you could go"</blockquote>the voice of the guy was demanding<br /><blockquote>"around as around"</blockquote> Isabel did not want explain her little trip, it was her exploration and none could have understod it she tought,<br /><blockquote>"ok now let's move or we get late and people arrive"</blockquote> she kissed the guy,looking his brown grey eyes.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7212374813938229016.post-58004524925796548552009-11-23T21:22:00.006+00:002009-11-23T22:09:19.744+00:00The lady who was looking for her party - Chapter 5Isabel walked out, the weather outside was uncertain, like her portuguese life hanging on a cloud to not see the rain around.<br />The ribeira was not a place of shopping but she needed walk, and it was her little heaven.<br />The pastel colour of buildings, seemed, second after second, grey as pearl, through the shape of clouds passing the sky.<br />German tourist sitted outside the bars, making pictures as Japanese to girls dressed with traditional costumes, was a show of noise.<br />A couple on a bench in front of the big old wood boats,were discussing in a melt of kissing and shouting as just lovers know to do.<br />Walking slowly her sight get lost in front of a chapel, it was the " Nossa Senhora do Ó", that little chapel, lost among the bars,soon would have had meant for her the worst walk in her life, but it was still time to get enchanted by her preferred bridge "Dom Luis I", the second kid of Mr.Eiffel.<br />Lost in the voices and the smell of the sea melted to the Douro, she was interrupted by her mobile ringing<br /><blockquote>"Hey do you still remember you are manager"</blockquote> her boss was freaking out, on the other part of the world, lost in kenya o somewhere else, with his affairs for rich people, out of every understanding for the human being.<br /><blockquote>"Sometimes I will"</blockquote> Isabel answered smiling to the couple on the bench finally lost in a sweet hug.<br /><blockquote>"So is nice if yo prepare yourself, I need you in Paris"</blockquote><br /><blockquote>"Not bad imagine if you needed me in Kenya to save you from a Lion!"</blockquote><br /><blockquote>"You joke, I do not fire you, for one reason, you know how to work!"</blockquote><br />Isabel switched off the phone, yes she was a manager of a rich multinational, based in Usa, and any time people asked it was as if she was like a martian on the moon, a stranger in one of the most poor area of Europe;but none said that the research of a party is done through gold roads was her thinking.<br />Isabel walked fast back to the taxi zone, she had to come back home, fastly, away from her moment of escape.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7212374813938229016.post-37730029399854423072009-11-15T21:56:00.002+00:002009-11-15T21:57:41.043+00:00The lady who was looking for her party - Chapter 4Isabel moves her legs away the ones of the guy, she arched her back and wake up from the bed, walking around the room, to reach his bed side.<br /><br />" Sleep tight, or sleep few, the angels or demons will help you"<br /><br />She wishpered this little song in his years and walked out the room.<br /><br /><br /><br />The kitchen was so hot, summer was arriving finally, on the table the glasses was still half full of wine, she took them and heard the smell, putting it under her nose.<br /><br />She tought how much she had hated that smell.<br /><br />When Carlos was back home full of beer and wine, asking to switch off her anger with her body, the same smell she felt on her body so many times.<br /><br />The smell she felt the day she escaped her past.<br /><br /><br /><br />It was a moment, she fastly empty the glass in the sink and opened the water.<br /><br />The sink was full, so she started to clean as a good housewife.<br /><br /><br /><br />The guy waked up, she heard him coughing loudly.<br /><br />She moved in the kitchen opening the fridge, bringing on some water. She drunk from the bottle while some drops of water was coming out her corner lips.<br /><br /><br /><br />"Hey, were you singing in my ear"<br /><br />Isabel put the water back in the fridge and looked at the guy<br /><br />"Have you dreamed?"<br /><br />" Nah I never dream I sleep as a rock and snore as a donkey, you are crazy in sleeping with me"<br /><br />" Well so It can be someone wanted gift you the remember of a dream"<br /><br />" You are crazy"<br /><br />" Nothing new under the sun, guy, do you want a coffee?"<br /><br />" Yes"<br /><br />Isabel prepared the coffee, finally the smell of wine disappeared from the kitchen.<br /><br />The guy went out to smoke, she remained enjoying his shape in a cloud of smoke.<br /><br />It was her happiness, that guy and his shape, in a morning.<br /><br />She took a cigarette and went out too.<br /><br />She kissed the lips guy slowly and switched on her cigarette.<br /><br />" So guy, how is the mood?"<br /><br />" Going, I must take care of some stuff"<br /><br />She stood in silence as usual, it was not in her nature to make questions, mainly because she was afraid of answers, as she knew people never mind to find the right word, they speak as the rivers comes, and she was sick of that.<br /><br />" ok, I will go out later, if you need something let me know"<br /><br />" no worry and make sure you have all we need for the dinner of tonight"<br /><br />" of course menino!"Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7212374813938229016.post-84127129900058461592009-10-26T13:50:00.002+00:002009-10-26T14:06:48.676+00:00The lady who was looking for her party - Chapter 3 The morning afterThe light of the sun entered trough the balcony of the bedroom, a ray touched Isabel eyes as she moved into the coats.<br />Her movements were slow as she opened her eyes.The guy was there into her bed.The eyes closed,the mouth slightly opened in a little snore, he had a line in the middle of his chin.<br />She tought how many times she had loved that little spot,covered by beard sometimes.<br />She moved among the coats to hug him, kissing slowly his right cheek, he opened his eyes as if she had gifted him the breathe of life back:<br /><em>"Hey hun"</em><br />Isabel tought on how words get softer and easier after making love<em>."Hey guy"</em><br />She moved her left leg up his body hugging him, and he took her thigh in his hand as for caging her.<br />The two went out, she loved the sea and he knew it, so that in the few calm moments of his time mood, they went to see the spot were the sun fall down the sea at west, and the earth seem eat every ray of light so fast.<br /><br />They were nearby to enter in an old bar, while the wind was getting fast and seemed move away all the bad toughts.<br /><em>"Do you know what is a road ?"</em><br /> <em>"Is a challenge every day ":</em> Isabel answered prompt to the guy<br /><em>"I will kill you with my love one day, you know?"</em> the guy wishpered it in her left ear, looking a man in the bar sleeping on a chair.<br />Isabel mouth's corners moved up as in a bitter laugh, she tought how funny was life and how deep the idea every human being has to be the center of the world.Her black long hair moved on her shoulder as she rotates her neck towards the window.The guy was amazed by her beauty, her deep lips, coloured as the peach flowers, her eyes lightly brown so full of life to scare the world, her skin smooth so delicate that it was possible to see the map of her veins around the eyes.<br />Isabel started to sing looking to the wind that was arriving from the ocean beating the sea and moving as a kid in a moment of rage.Trough the window of the bar she could see a little ship in the pain of the tempest, for a minute she prayed God to leave that ship alive or to do that agony faster.Someone up the clouds heard her words and all the sudden, a ray of light came out, the ship found back the road as she stopped to sing.<br /><br /><em>"You know we can decide to be the sea, the wind or the ship but someone always will take the final decision and we can just move in the rage as the sea, breathe as the wind or begging to not end up in little pieces as she ship.<br />Do you think all this will ever mean something for the world? "</em><br /><em></em><br />The guy ended his beer lost in the words he had more will to have some fun than to listen to her hope:<br /><em>" I think you need just rest your brain".</em><br />Isabel moves her eyes toward the ones of the guy, she looked at a piece of foam of the beer on his mouth:<br /><em>"I know you will kill someone, maybe me but surely you will kill yourself</em>".<br />She took his hand standing up in front of him, while her blue skirts danced around her legs.<br />She was too much elegant for a bar on the seaside.She brought the guy out of the bar, walking in the middle of the little mass of people who were watching a soccer match on tv.<br />They were out.<br />The guy coughed as the wind beat him.<br />Isabel exploded in a laugh:<br /><em>"Cover yourself or the wind will throw you in the sea".</em>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7212374813938229016.post-6301135362421370812009-10-23T15:54:00.003+01:002009-10-23T16:12:23.657+01:00The lady who was looking for her party - Chapter 2 A nightmare in the nightThe day of the party arrived and Isabel was nervous.<br />She had to dress with a black elegant suit, as an accurate cool lady, the laces of the corset were too much large, or maybe she was too much thin.She took a necklace from the mess inside her wardrobe, one with white pearls.<br />It was an old gift of her gramma, the pearls were cold and she trembles feeling them on her skin, trying to close fast the necklace.<br />Looking at her diaphane face in the mirror,she tought it was funny choosing pearls, the tradition wanted that they meant cries and it was the day of her 18 y.o. birthday an important step for any girl in the South Italy.<br />- "ISAAAAAAAAAAAAA move on "!!!!!!!!!-<br />The mum called back the door Isabel felt as in a trial, she wanted disappear, she did not see nothing to party, her dreams were far, her life was annoing.<br />She hated her body, her toughts, the sillyness of her will to move away, to be an indipendent woman, to find two arms to hug in the nights of bad dreams.<br />-! I arrive mummy, give me 5 minute of peace !!!!!!"-<br />-" Peace?? Everyone is going to arrive here, what the hell!"<br />The mum knocked the door with strenght as that the door trembled<br />Isabel opened the door with one movement, as her mum was nearby to fall in her arms.<br />- "Here is the stranger not invited to the party"-<br />-"Stop to joke silly girl !! "<br />----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />Isabel waked up from the bed, her breathe was so full of pain her hands sweatings, she looked nearby her pillow, the guy was sleeping peacefully.She waked up from the bed, and entered the kitchen walking on the point of her feet.<br />Opening the fridge she took a bottle of wine, she opened it drinking that poison down fast, counting until ten, it was her way to put all her pains down.The poison was fast to confuse her mind, she walked toward the window and remained there to watch the sky, there was nothing up there and nothing in her mind.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7212374813938229016.post-36511812529175454982009-10-22T18:43:00.001+01:002009-10-22T18:44:46.764+01:00Chapter 1 - The lady who was looking for her partySometimes, we spend the whole life to find the mathematical solution that can assure us the best life, the best job, the best day for being able to do the thing X and to realize the project Y...<br />Isabel wanted just die in the lake of her blood, praying it would have been fast.<br />The life had punished her, without no apparent reasons, and she had no more the inner strength to fight, she looked up to the sky , astonished to be still able to recognize the different color of clouds, while the time seemed eternal.<br />The same life she lived so intensively, running through the breathes of many people.<br />The same road she had done taking many hands, gifting many smiles, as for a strange mission, whose end you never know, but you feel inside there must be a line, the knowledge that let you feel how is possible that the diamonds and the glasses at the end will finish separated.<br />The same life which brings you to hear the rustle of the days that pass between the hairs, without let you feel the wishper of the wind, and you have always an inner sensation that beats and cuddles you with an intensity stated by the sound of the days moving as .Someone calls it " fear of life" or "fear of die",Isabel called it"the research of my party"a place where you can be comfy, and feel that your eyes will always find the same light for whatever they will look.<br />She had never had the hope to die so old, 85 years passed, flied as the water falling down a cascade.<br />She smiled up without clue if someone was around her bed... suddenly someone aarrived:"Mrs Roca! Mrs Roca!"The steps were fast, one person two persons three persons.Anyone around her, touching her body, moving machines, covering her mouth from blood,"Fast! Fast!"Isabel Roca was in a hospital, it was not yet her time to go.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7212374813938229016.post-4284981744377669902009-10-08T22:52:00.001+01:002009-10-08T22:54:29.051+01:00Photo story part 1 - water - agua - acqua<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmB4-7xKVsdYpLVPbo92ENukEKLj8TCTrToXm5eA98PyKC-fU5MrJK7szYO7HV4NrWSku331BNYOjLthVEpUrvyYkpH-ki7FQlNj2PhhK64YbtB-pdfSteQBJ0ZZ9SisGHJjK6XtD3uNxS/s1600-h/aqua.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390350759334729250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 250px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmB4-7xKVsdYpLVPbo92ENukEKLj8TCTrToXm5eA98PyKC-fU5MrJK7szYO7HV4NrWSku331BNYOjLthVEpUrvyYkpH-ki7FQlNj2PhhK64YbtB-pdfSteQBJ0ZZ9SisGHJjK6XtD3uNxS/s320/aqua.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7212374813938229016.post-40150709932333618952009-09-24T17:06:00.003+01:002009-09-24T17:11:28.268+01:00Episode poetry - Part 1<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieHBePrGGb77lWft1k-cGgWTxInQ0iyC35Ljq5CHdHGC2K72cF81QrgscPmuAGmwFNo5-xhwLTaf6oYYiYrudF6uz6nUTIC9E4MSN4nQ54D78gUnTOOTDDjowNASbYOENsVM4oC1MjzQlp/s1600-h/close.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385067207880442834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 152px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieHBePrGGb77lWft1k-cGgWTxInQ0iyC35Ljq5CHdHGC2K72cF81QrgscPmuAGmwFNo5-xhwLTaf6oYYiYrudF6uz6nUTIC9E4MSN4nQ54D78gUnTOOTDDjowNASbYOENsVM4oC1MjzQlp/s200/close.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7IFLufvvaquwJxE8JeCkc3AbuOmqPas4oh8EGYUdOQmSqhRb_0wVMvfON0o_ximKQx2Z46HavlWi5fIuXanmbCA_V8W_085qnnH9zUsWzFrVb8C8ZJGX6XXpTbiP97Z1R-IV3AtNZi9A4/s1600-h/close.jpg"><em>Wake up </em></a></p><p align="center"><em>is the story of a trip in the mind done a morning when out light is smooth and thoughts are not yet clear.In that few minutes we can think to the lost and the newcomers of our life.Making wishesTaking prays Those few minutes are dedicated to ourselves and gifted to the one we care</em></p><br /><p align="center"><em>-----------------------------------------</em></p><br /><p align="center"><em>Svegliarsi</em></p><br /><p align="center"><em>è la storia di un viaggio nella mente fatto una mattina, quando la luce è leggera e i pensieri non sono ancora chiari. In pochi minuti, possiamo pensare a coloro che abbiamo perso e a quelli che sono arrivati nella nostra vita. Facendo desideriTenendo nel cuore preghiereQuei pochi minuti sono dedicati a noi stessi e regalati a quelli che amiamo</em></p><br /><p align="center"><em>---------------------------------------------</em></p><br /><p align="center"><em>Acorda-te</em></p><br /><p align="center"><em>É a história de uma viagem na mente feito uma manhã, quando a luz é suave e os pensamentos ainda não estão claras. Em poucos minutos podemos pensar para os perdidos e os recém-chegados na nossa vida. Fazendo desejos </em></p><br /><div><em><br /></em></div><br /><p align="right"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7IFLufvvaquwJxE8JeCkc3AbuOmqPas4oh8EGYUdOQmSqhRb_0wVMvfON0o_ximKQx2Z46HavlWi5fIuXanmbCA_V8W_085qnnH9zUsWzFrVb8C8ZJGX6XXpTbiP97Z1R-IV3AtNZi9A4/s1600-h/close.jpg"><em></em></a></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7212374813938229016.post-84846608246288424402009-09-03T11:28:00.003+01:002009-09-03T11:30:47.475+01:00- Il viaggio - Parte 1 ( italiano)Tutto iniziò nel momento in cui una signora passò tra la folla del metrò e loro due si alzarono in contemporanea, gli sguardi si incrociarono quasi a sfiorarsi nella calura della Linea 3.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7212374813938229016.post-61587737777160854152009-09-02T15:53:00.001+01:002009-09-02T16:26:20.122+01:00from today is available on line<br />THEWORLDWIDESTORYPROJECT<br />What is it ? The aim of the blog is to have 100 user from all over the country to start a " literature, poetry, photography community blog" what is the new from all the others communities present on line?<br />The worlwidestoryproject propose you to :<br />Start a story and edit it online giving the possibility to other user to continue, in this way the story is never ending :-)<br />Start a theme of pictures and see how the other user decline it :-)<br />Start a poem and give to the other users the possibility to change it :-)<br />Of course this is just the beginning ... Theblog is on air from today what is needed is :<br />Join the blog as user to have the possibility to post ( see section sign in)<br />Give to any story a title - with the numeration 1.2.3 so that any follower of the story can go on.<br />Languages allowed: everyone ( take care cause someone could ask translation!)<br /><br /><br />P.s the content will be valued in any case by site administratorUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0