An enjoyable trip in Berlin, at present the coolest European city, with DJ Paul van Dyk. Saturday, July 26, 2008
Dementia Swollen Legs
The city I would like to live in now ... Beijing 2008
An enjoyable trip in Berlin, at present the coolest European city, with DJ Paul van Dyk. Take a look to the other cities on
An enjoyable trip in Berlin, at present the coolest European city, with DJ Paul van Dyk. 
Friday, July 25, 2008
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Jibjab Or Something Like It
The smell of the night
The Sibiton. 
Along a dozen yards, as wide as deep. Santinho cares, preparing the metal to fish passage. 
Water. disappear.
Then comes the time to thoroughly clean the post of captain.
Along a dozen yards, as wide as deep. Santinho cares, preparing the metal to fish passage. And before the tide gets up, he cleans the bottom. 
I only see two black hands and a bucket, a rate that disappear and reappear.
disappear. reappear. I only see two black hands and a bucket, a rate that disappear and reappear. 
Water. disappear. Then comes the time to thoroughly clean the post of captain.
League kite as a wind vane. The untie. The league again, higher. Detangles. The comb carefully, as a mother's hair daughter. Red, yellow and blue, the colors of pure Sibiton. engine trouble, but did not give up, the waves crashing metal.
Sand Joao Vierira.
Two hours of calm seas, clear and soft. Swing swing swing.
All accompanied by some cookies. Along the island's Canhabaque, still a big mystery to me. It seems that here we do the ceremonies that last eight years. During all this time, the boys live in the forest, feeding on her, covering her.
do not have any kind of relationship with all that is woman. If they had a family, should be forgotten.
is not difficult to understand why now many young people do not want undergo this ceremony (
Fanad
)! It is a great sacrifice.
So we slip and we leave this piece of land from the red cliffs behind her mistress of all the islands we will encounter on our way.
finally resting your feet on the wet ground of Joao Vieira. Its sand is white, thin, and under our feet is the same sound of fresh snow. More than just
white palm trees, parrots.
Many sounds that merge into each other. But if you lie on the sand, and close your eyes, hear only the wind through the leaves of coconut ... seem to hear a rain. A waterfall. The night light this land, making it shine, while the water will come down slowly.
Turtles of sand.
We made a sand castle, a village of sand. Li destroyed, trampled upon.
Sara made a sand turtle.
He smiled, he kissed, he kept. He
recognized.
The sacred island.
Imagine that the regulations Canhabaque cross that stretch of Atlantic Ocean (it is very simplistic to speak of the sea) with a canoe hollowed out of a trunk poilon, gives an idea of \u200b\u200bwhat the island of Poilon should be sacred. The sibiton seems far away, in the morning when we try to achieve it. The low tide is at its moment of Max, his feet sinking in a slightly silty sand. You have to walk barefoot, the shoes would otherwise remain attached to the bottom, become "
windy."
Until Joao Vieira will not become a subtle stripe, the water will be "average" move. Then the ocean began to talk about, the waves breaking on the rocks in shallow waters. The sibiton, with all its metal, the fight against the tide, against the wind. Today it seems so light, so helpless.
Then it appears, little by little, finally a strip, which becomes the ground, which becomes rocks, sand gold, savannah. The dock will be even more difficult than the journey. The anchors do not want any more, the boat circling in on itself, the waves carry her everywhere.
Everything here seems to remind us miserable sinners that they set foot, she's the Sagrada Island, and that if you received the grace to be able to set foot just because you wanted it, you gave it to you. In all modes will not be easy to stay there.
A small space in which to plant our tents. The rest of the island for us remains inviolable.
eggs hatched and dried turtle emerge from the sand along with the white shells, wonderful. I pick up and walk, walk and gather.
Traces of green turtles and huge everywhere. little corners of fresh crystal clear water and quiet, hidden among the rocks, copper, green, purple, violet. I let myself go, let it sink into my skin a sacredness that finally belongs to me, feel me.
not take a picture, I'll bring home a single grain of this land. You must stay here, secret, sagrada, granted only to the few who really want to get us here.
My turtle.
I do not deny my strong suggestibility. But I think a small grain of truth is always there.
brief anecdote. It is still turtle season, the first is coming now (in May), the other will come when the rains are more abundant and decided to lay thousands of eggs, a little bogged down in the sand Poilon.
Our hope, of see one, it's very vain.
are squatting in a Conchetta the mangroves, trying to fulfill my "needs." And when, respectfully, cover them, raised his head, and before me, a few meters in shallow water, her.
My turtle, huge, who throws his head out, blow out water from large nostrils, and back down again. The
find out more, a little 'more off.
moon damp.
go to sleep around midnight, exhausted, but still with that little bit of adrenaline in the body, which will allow us to wake up two hours later. Preto (which means black in Italian), the great general of the turtles, awakens us to the two in the morning.
The moon is high, so powerful that hide the stars, as if it would be our only guide.
We venture along the beach, walking slowly but steadily. The sand is cold, wet, heavy.
In six, one behind the other, we walk in silence, only the words needed.
The hope is to surprise a tortoise during spawning.
The island is not large, is covered in just over an hour.
The cold, wet, wind of the ocean are beginning to enter the bone, the fatigue to take over, hoping to spy a unique event diminishes.
So, little by little tired, we go back in the tent.
smile anyway the idea of \u200b\u200bhaving breathed air at night, a slightly bitter and pungent aroma, tinged with the aroma of cabaceira.
The text and images in this post are property of Isabel Espinosa Press and published by courtesy of the author. The total or partial reproduction of these contents is not allowed.
(C)
Sand Joao Vierira.
Two hours of calm seas, clear and soft. Swing swing swing.
All accompanied by some cookies. Along the island's Canhabaque, still a big mystery to me. It seems that here we do the ceremonies that last eight years. During all this time, the boys live in the forest, feeding on her, covering her.
do not have any kind of relationship with all that is woman. If they had a family, should be forgotten.
is not difficult to understand why now many young people do not want undergo this ceremony (
Fanad
)! It is a great sacrifice.
So we slip and we leave this piece of land from the red cliffs behind her mistress of all the islands we will encounter on our way.
finally resting your feet on the wet ground of Joao Vieira. Its sand is white, thin, and under our feet is the same sound of fresh snow. More than just
white palm trees, parrots.
Many sounds that merge into each other. But if you lie on the sand, and close your eyes, hear only the wind through the leaves of coconut ... seem to hear a rain. A waterfall. The night light this land, making it shine, while the water will come down slowly.
Turtles of sand.
We made a sand castle, a village of sand. Li destroyed, trampled upon.
Sara made a sand turtle.
He smiled, he kissed, he kept. He
recognized.
The sacred island.
Imagine that the regulations Canhabaque cross that stretch of Atlantic Ocean (it is very simplistic to speak of the sea) with a canoe hollowed out of a trunk poilon, gives an idea of \u200b\u200bwhat the island of Poilon should be sacred. The sibiton seems far away, in the morning when we try to achieve it. The low tide is at its moment of Max, his feet sinking in a slightly silty sand. You have to walk barefoot, the shoes would otherwise remain attached to the bottom, become "
windy."
Until Joao Vieira will not become a subtle stripe, the water will be "average" move. Then the ocean began to talk about, the waves breaking on the rocks in shallow waters. The sibiton, with all its metal, the fight against the tide, against the wind. Today it seems so light, so helpless.
Then it appears, little by little, finally a strip, which becomes the ground, which becomes rocks, sand gold, savannah. The dock will be even more difficult than the journey. The anchors do not want any more, the boat circling in on itself, the waves carry her everywhere.
Everything here seems to remind us miserable sinners that they set foot, she's the Sagrada Island, and that if you received the grace to be able to set foot just because you wanted it, you gave it to you. In all modes will not be easy to stay there.
A small space in which to plant our tents. The rest of the island for us remains inviolable.
eggs hatched and dried turtle emerge from the sand along with the white shells, wonderful. I pick up and walk, walk and gather.
Traces of green turtles and huge everywhere. little corners of fresh crystal clear water and quiet, hidden among the rocks, copper, green, purple, violet. I let myself go, let it sink into my skin a sacredness that finally belongs to me, feel me.
not take a picture, I'll bring home a single grain of this land. You must stay here, secret, sagrada, granted only to the few who really want to get us here.
My turtle.
I do not deny my strong suggestibility. But I think a small grain of truth is always there.
brief anecdote. It is still turtle season, the first is coming now (in May), the other will come when the rains are more abundant and decided to lay thousands of eggs, a little bogged down in the sand Poilon.
Our hope, of see one, it's very vain.
are squatting in a Conchetta the mangroves, trying to fulfill my "needs." And when, respectfully, cover them, raised his head, and before me, a few meters in shallow water, her.
My turtle, huge, who throws his head out, blow out water from large nostrils, and back down again. The
find out more, a little 'more off.
moon damp.
go to sleep around midnight, exhausted, but still with that little bit of adrenaline in the body, which will allow us to wake up two hours later. Preto (which means black in Italian), the great general of the turtles, awakens us to the two in the morning.
The moon is high, so powerful that hide the stars, as if it would be our only guide.
We venture along the beach, walking slowly but steadily. The sand is cold, wet, heavy.
In six, one behind the other, we walk in silence, only the words needed.
The hope is to surprise a tortoise during spawning.
The island is not large, is covered in just over an hour.
The cold, wet, wind of the ocean are beginning to enter the bone, the fatigue to take over, hoping to spy a unique event diminishes.
So, little by little tired, we go back in the tent.
smile anyway the idea of \u200b\u200bhaving breathed air at night, a slightly bitter and pungent aroma, tinged with the aroma of cabaceira.
The text and images in this post are property of Isabel Espinosa Press and published by courtesy of the author. The total or partial reproduction of these contents is not allowed.
(C)
Monday, July 21, 2008
Motion Sensor Circuit Design
L'abito femminile
Corriere delle Dame cit., A.1844, October 23
Sweet and delicate female is the kind in vogue, with their backs lunate, the white forehead, milky neck, and cheek just tinged with vermilion, and the tiny mouth, white teeth, hair that give blacks more prominent in contrast to skin, eyes and even blacks, praised especially if they have any blue dye morato, which adds to 'eye vagueness and loveliness.
Corriere delle Dame cit., A.1844, October 23
| century ball gowns The tailored suits Underwear essential | | Women accessories Shawls and Capes Gloves |
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Are Blunt Wraps Addictive
Gilet ottocenteschi
nineteenth-century waistcoat, evening or for the full Scot
nineteenth-century waistcoat, evening or for the full Scot
The waistcoat or vest is fashionable also for dancing. The fabric can be made that is smooth, even with small motifs in gold and silver.
can be a very open and double-breasted or shawl, with a single row of buttons, and small chisel.
top The male dress
Vuze Infinity Problem
Preziosi
necklaces, brooches, bracelets, cuff links, and any cameos Jewel century made with precious materials or costume jewelry.
necklaces, brooches, bracelets, cuff links, and any cameos Jewel century made with precious materials or costume jewelry.
Self Defense Store New York Sap Gloves
Cuffie e cuffiettine
Headphones are essential fashion accessories.
round or oval, with ribbons and lace, the headphones usually hid the profile of the wearer.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
How Long Does Haemotoma Takes To Dissolve
Sireia
The size oranges. 
The hand seems to do a dance, the orange circles in and leans against the blade as a head on a cushion. Wheel with rhythm and regularity. In a single gesture loses its orange color to capture a new image, the ball becomes a spiral. Another spiral falls to the ground. few seconds, a horizontal cut to uncover and eventually you're offered, juicy and sweet. 
hundred francs three oranges.
hundred francs three oranges. 
time caju. When the wind creates small vortices, the dust rises, it's time to caju. routes sweetish smell of fermented fruits. The Candonga double height, loading bins and cans, yellow and white, twenty or fifty liters. From the capital empty, make sure the roof with fishing nets. They return
well stacked heavy and slightly alcoholic, plugged with leaves of the same tree.
spread quickly to Bissau, will be drunk, swallowed like juice, but much more frequently as wine.
The market for shoes.
The illusion of choice and prosperity. There are several ways to get a pair of shoes here. You can go to the shoemaker, scattered here and there, hunched in small containers, or on the streets. Usually create magical inventions with the old tires for soles and goatskin belt. You sit down, resting his foot on a piece of paper, newspaper, ... and you're done. As a child, I surrounded the hand, finger after finger, a hundred times, the shoemaker repeatedly tickles your footprint. Only a few days, and you'll have a pair of custom-made footwear.
Another way is that of supermarkets, shops or Chinese ... but for the standardization of the country are certainly not so accessible. Definitely win in terms of choice. Last
away, a bit 'more tiring, but no less interesting, is that of recycling.
is not so easy to explain but in summary: the choice is not going through the model, and then rule on the measure, but rather the contrary.
Of that number, there is only one particular model, a well-defined brand. And not only
. Each pair of shoes are cleaned daily (probably being used or waste, who knows why), dried with care, only to be exposed. The stalls overflowing Puma, All Star, Adidas, Reebok, Nike ... as we say in our part, we take what the house offers.
A number, a color, shape, brand.
Espresso Queen Bijagos and Africa.
Traghettone fifties, all metal and bolts, blue and white. Heavy
even at the sight. Within a mixture of
tenativonuovomoderno in the seats, as measured by the old wrought-iron chairs near the bar, and a small round table fintomarmo.
Four classes. In reality, very few differences between the first and third.
The first class costs a thousand pounds, the second hundred, The third pain and fear.
First Class dodicimilacinquecento francs, the few places, maybe thirty, well in the bow, listening to the voice of Cesaria Evora.
Behind one door is always open, the second class seats themselves first, an old television loop that projects in all videos of Michael Jackson, seven thousand francs.
With five thousand francs you sit in third, divided by the second class from a wall that encloses the engine (petrol) ... and of course the soundtrack. On the roof
breathe the ocean wind and looked away.
In the final class you are not even allowed a window. Actually it is not included in the draft, is not in the drawings, plans, or on security plans. It is not difficult to guess that is a hole in the Valley, built between the two holds on the lower floor, crammed with plastic seats like those in waiting rooms in the old stations, acrid smell of sweat, heat, moisture, food, children and old mix, trample, crush, squeeze for three or four hours in a dimly lit Canton where I could not stay longer than five minutes. Boarding at two whistles three times every quarter of an hour. At three o'clock we sail, Bissau is becoming smaller and less threatening, the air flows back into the lungs, the hot sun and cool ocean wind.
mind already beginning to be more lucid.
more relaxed.
Fishing
Africa.
The water is stirred as ribollisse.
one time with each other, without notice.
Only at one point, a circle, a kind of vortex uncontrollable. Here they are, silver, jumping, would be almost happy. In fact, the small silver fish escaping from a predator's largest (and much tastier!): Sireia. Swimmer peel hard and shiny, and yellow fins, sharp.
And now that the boys enter the water, some people throw the fishing rod, who juggles with a wire. Start the battle. I love enters the fray, becoming prey and hunter.
The effort is enormous, given the tonnage of this animal. Leaves, resume, rest, fight ... the muscles are understood, arms like iron as a heart throb. Full adrelina.
until, exhausted, the animal surrenders, is being drawn on the ground where he will await the final blow.
But sometimes (not a few in fact) Sireia wins, nobody loses deception, or has driven the blacks muscles that try to tire him. Defeats the predator, will assume his likeness and hunt relentlessly.
The text and images in this post are property of Isabel Espinosa Press and published by courtesy of the author. The total or partial reproduction of these contents is not allowed. (C)
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Letterto Join Beauty Course
The silence broken ... (Tears?: P)
Mammamia.
Simple, buttery and compact word that whale in the head from the moment you open up my eyes (I would like to point out that the term "open" is used for the mussels) in the morning.
The correct term would be "eternal and constant anxiety that" ...
But a growing anxiety in the ground of dissatisfaction ...
not experience anxiety on a tree of uncertainty ...
simply a pure and simple question: Why
always call early in the morning?
because they speak so fast?
Why ask me the same things (things he misses paper and pen to write down my data or the neuron with the information commits suicide every time I finish talking)? But above all
(deep breath ).... WHY
'NOTCH so much "CAMPANACCI" SE NN ABLE TO FIND A JOB TO PEOPLE?
You see, after more than a month here at the north pole Europe, you begin to understand some things, to know people and so on ...
These things never happened.
still can not understand a club and I have not met anyone. The only person with whom I have human relationships (and Karima raising Marco) is the recruiter of Hays who called me about 8 or 9 times always leaving a voicemail message (if it's because more than one call a day and be offended crisis in cardiovascular) that I I never understood a bat because he speaks as if he had run out of money in the phone (about 500% faster than an average human).
I know him better than my brother at times (but gets you to the otherwise wants to bring her out to dinner), but still calls me Daniel Leon (as is the film's Jean Reno). The 6 or 7 times I said that I'm unemployed and my last job was in Italy but it keeps asking me what job I do. In short, it's like a nightmare, where a guy smashed the temporal lobe of the brain is convinced of having to meet, and he calls you every morning asking for confirmation for now ...
Returning for a second serious (hard thing Asthe my sanity if it is taken away the constant Rain London) are still with her ass on the ground but do not lose heart and hold on (although as I write my pants are soaked with tears.)
We know that hope is the last to die (though this time it seems to me a challenge like "Tom Thumb against Goiath" or "man of paper that passes through the hot coals without burning) and then we
quiet and serene ( "-Karima just hit his head on the wall! We rise the deposit !!!!- sorry ... apparently there was a mosquito) than ever before.
addition to this we also discovered with great joy that our already 'm perfect for home (the one with the scratched wooden floors, doors broken wall unit, with the scale removed, broken windows, with the basement to the limits of the room and so on ...) has a hole in the wall in the basement from which sprout in the evening nice snails half a meter long, which at best can be used as a pillow, but you alzeresti every morning as if I had drooled over (the pillow) or as if I had slept on a bed of Simmenthal.
In both cases it would not be pleasant.
Daniel
PS
calling me tomorrow morning on the first answer words:
"Go Fuck Yourself And Your Mother That Suck Dicks In The Hell Motherfucki'n. Comprehend DO YOU?"
............
.........
.....
..
.
would be a descent of style for a gentleman like me.
Never mind.
Dany 
Mammamia.
Simple, buttery and compact word that whale in the head from the moment you open up my eyes (I would like to point out that the term "open" is used for the mussels) in the morning.
The correct term would be "eternal and constant anxiety that" ...
But a growing anxiety in the ground of dissatisfaction ...
not experience anxiety on a tree of uncertainty ...
simply a pure and simple question: Why
always call early in the morning?
because they speak so fast?
Why ask me the same things (things he misses paper and pen to write down my data or the neuron with the information commits suicide every time I finish talking)? But above all
(deep breath ).... WHY
'NOTCH so much "CAMPANACCI" SE NN ABLE TO FIND A JOB TO PEOPLE?
You see, after more than a month here at the north pole Europe, you begin to understand some things, to know people and so on ...
These things never happened.
still can not understand a club and I have not met anyone. The only person with whom I have human relationships (and Karima raising Marco) is the recruiter of Hays who called me about 8 or 9 times always leaving a voicemail message (if it's because more than one call a day and be offended crisis in cardiovascular) that I I never understood a bat because he speaks as if he had run out of money in the phone (about 500% faster than an average human).
I know him better than my brother at times (but gets you to the otherwise wants to bring her out to dinner), but still calls me Daniel Leon (as is the film's Jean Reno). The 6 or 7 times I said that I'm unemployed and my last job was in Italy but it keeps asking me what job I do. In short, it's like a nightmare, where a guy smashed the temporal lobe of the brain is convinced of having to meet, and he calls you every morning asking for confirmation for now ...
Returning for a second serious (hard thing Asthe my sanity if it is taken away the constant Rain London) are still with her ass on the ground but do not lose heart and hold on (although as I write my pants are soaked with tears.)
We know that hope is the last to die (though this time it seems to me a challenge like "Tom Thumb against Goiath" or "man of paper that passes through the hot coals without burning) and then we
quiet and serene ( "-Karima just hit his head on the wall! We rise the deposit !!!!- sorry ... apparently there was a mosquito) than ever before.
addition to this we also discovered with great joy that our already 'm perfect for home (the one with the scratched wooden floors, doors broken wall unit, with the scale removed, broken windows, with the basement to the limits of the room and so on ...) has a hole in the wall in the basement from which sprout in the evening nice snails half a meter long, which at best can be used as a pillow, but you alzeresti every morning as if I had drooled over (the pillow) or as if I had slept on a bed of Simmenthal.
In both cases it would not be pleasant.
Daniel
PS
calling me tomorrow morning on the first answer words:
"Go Fuck Yourself And Your Mother That Suck Dicks In The Hell Motherfucki'n. Comprehend DO YOU?"
............
.........
.....
..
.
would be a descent of style for a gentleman like me.
Never mind.
Dany
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Ap Biology Lab 1 Osmosis Diffusion Answers
We apologize for the momentary interruption
I know that the blog these days is not very updated. Even though I'm devoting most of my time for exams (the last but one went well and so I am concentrating "on the last one) the news there.
soon will begin the presale of the waterlily Party 2008. The slogan has already been delivered, as well as the main theme of this year. I do not want to anticipate anything and I refer to the Friday Night Blog for updates (you think you Paul?). I'm just saying we will give it all to surprise our guests.
July will give us something in writing, are in the planning stage of autobiographical short stories peppered with ill-concealed intention intriguing yellow in the country. What the hell am I talking about?
I speak of the summer adventures of Benjamin and Laertes, a young man and his pet dog, half way between the Fletcher with the penis and a commissioner Rex barely more fearful, investigate mysterious cases of Rocciafratta area.
I know that the blog these days is not very updated. Even though I'm devoting most of my time for exams (the last but one went well and so I am concentrating "on the last one) the news there.
soon will begin the presale of the waterlily Party 2008. The slogan has already been delivered, as well as the main theme of this year. I do not want to anticipate anything and I refer to the Friday Night Blog for updates (you think you Paul?). I'm just saying we will give it all to surprise our guests.
July will give us something in writing, are in the planning stage of autobiographical short stories peppered with ill-concealed intention intriguing yellow in the country. What the hell am I talking about?
I speak of the summer adventures of Benjamin and Laertes, a young man and his pet dog, half way between the Fletcher with the penis and a commissioner Rex barely more fearful, investigate mysterious cases of Rocciafratta area.
As usual recommendation: stay tuned to the frequency of summer! 
(C)
(C) 
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