Diet Clinic At Matamoros

Mountains ... friendship

The forehead beaded with sweat burns. It's hot, body temperature increases and there is a breath of wind. Salgo. The
the group in a row, proceeds more or less compact. Someone sent, others less, others trudging willing to overcome the steep ridge. The last section proves quite challenging, but with less snow than expected. Now the group is extended. Rest the back next to a friend. I look at the fantastic scenery, lights and shadows, different colors. Slowly I let myself embrace and caress the mountain, slowly and calmly, we go up the last steep section of ridge falls back on "Cozzo fly". I taste the air and then we sit down with Albert to see the rocks of Serra Dolcedorme. Filled with towering pinnacles of snow gleam of light, narrow gorges and canyons that open to occasionally dump debris of stones mixed with snow. Loricati pines, on the other hand, there observed from the Saddle of Vessel, other, very close, they seem to grasp branches twisted, fingers senile beings who fought bloody battles with thousands of years and the forces of nature. Charred logs as shields, black scars like cuts of swords, bark torn by the force of lightning, hear the hiss of moans, groans coming from another time and another space. I feel so numb the mind, I return the child. From the country of their grandparents, I follow the contours and folds of the southern chain of Pollino. Light with her eyes climb the steep slopes and scales of steep rock that caress the sky. Without a trace, relief of the rock walls and stretches of white snow-capped peaks. Then skillfully follows the ridge that leads me to the top. Without effort, without effort, I close my eyes skimming the snow of the summit, before embarking on the journey home.
Today I learned how to compete on these ridges bold, I walked the ribs of the "My montagne”, con lo sforzo i miei piedi hanno calpestato le loro vette e, d’inverno, il bianco immacolato delle loro nevi. Tutti i momenti vissuti in montagna hanno lasciato il segno nel mio cuore, ma soprattutto mi hanno insegnato a percorrere con umiltà i mille sentieri dell'animo umano.
Mettersi in gioco, misurarsi con la montagna è anche un mezzo per scoprire sin dove le nostre forze psico-fisiche possono arrivare. Saggiare tutto quello che si ha dentro con la sola forza dei muscoli e della rapidità del sangue che raggiunge le parti vitali del corpo.
Mentre guardo il gruppo che ormai sfila sotto il traverso della Timpa del Pino di Michele, e lentamente si avvia a raggiungere la cima di Serra Dolcedorme, credo che ognuno di noi oggi stia percorrendo il proprio sentiero.
Guardo l’amico Alberto. Regna il silenzio. Sono felice. Questa pace profonda mi induce a pensare. Le montagne ricalcano l’amicizia, stanno attaccate alla terra e protese verso il cielo quasi come a cercare qualcuno, abbracciandolo, nell’immensità della volta celeste. Le montagne rappresentano un mezzo per trascendere ed elevarsi, rinsaldano i cuori, rendono le amicizie inossidabili per tutta la vita.
A sera, lungo il facile sentiero che ci conduce all’auto io e Salvatore ci attardiamo, rivivendo con i nostri discorsi alcuni momenti della giornata. Salvatore cerca le ultime luci del tramonto. Io mi volto verso Serra Dolcedorme. Le rocce di vetta si stagliano in the dark sky as the head of a large prehistoric animal. I wonder if love and friendship will last forever. In this life, I believe, will never die, perhaps only divide, and then one day, perhaps, grow elsewhere.
Rock. Friendship and love. Rock that breaks, it breaks, it dissolves into sand and dust is not denying his own soul, what has succeeded in creating the mountains. The same blood that day after day, in the light and shadows, makes me love life more.

A heartfelt thanks to President Roberto Berardi and dear friend "mechanical" Antonio Di Luca at 21:00 helped me bring home my dear old car.

Can A Downdraft Hood Be Behind Oven

Silvio deve morire

Me l’ha confidato in segreto un medico che non ha mai sbagliato una diagnosi.

Ma lo sanno, e ci contano, un bel po’ di politici, oltre che il 40% degli italiani.

Perchè appena Silvio has made the only common and unavoidable duty for all men, funny little things happen: a.

the partiton of popolone of Liberton will melt like snow in a blast furnace;

b. true to the heritage of hunting burst late father-godfather (= master plug);

c. Fini and former MSI think they are in "pole position", but did not reckon with ...

d. Pierferdi-the-most-beautiful-than-clever Casini: he expects to see the body of Silvio pass in front of the river, eat up to 70% of the PDL, pushing the fellow in the arms of Gianfri er-sheep and St (a) Orac (another sitting on the other sponda del fiume...)

I bookmaker di Londra accettano già scommesse.

Small Vacuum Cleaners

Ciàpel kè ’l gh’è (XLIII)

en dèl ignì zò del kaàl el gà pikat la skena

Nike Mercurial R9 1998

light and fatigue ... in the silence of the wind

The trill of the alarm. These are 05:00. Rest a little 'to bask in the warmth of the blankets. The moment I get up for your hand looking for my hot body. I take your hands and shake. My eyes moisten. I gotta go. The mountain is calling me.
time to prepare something hot, to leave you a note that read "I LOVE YOU" and are ready to meet my freedom, feeling the silence of the wind, to discover the limits of my strength and overcome and win my weaknesses.
we enter the thick of the Valle Cupa, the absence of sun makes it even more dark and gloomy atmosphere that the name evokes. As we climb the snow is getting deeper, we realize it is just before you reach the Passo del Campanaro. Today, the mountain we strive severely.
Step On the mountain begins to enchant, so some sunshine is the space between the clouds. And 'nice and pleasant to be on that clear field of trees and smell the scents and sounds of nature to revive and oxygenate every fiber of my body. I need this contact through the mountains to search for a more authentic and genuine life. Here it is only themselves. It 's impossible to cheat. I stripped the mountain, the bark slips of my daily life revealing the most remote and hidden sides of my character.
The ascent along the ridge of the first Campanaro starts easily, go up, then rears up the ridge, we alternate with hard work to make our way in the snow that often yields to the weight of our bodies, making driving difficult and tiring. The last stretch requires no tevole effort, go around a wall of rock on the left and up the steep channel leading to the end of the ridge, sull'anticima the Timpa del Pino Michele. The
looks out onto the great vessels and left the amphitheater of the walls of the summit of Serra Dolcedorme. Joseph goes on
kidnapped by irrepressible energy, I more limped back. We proceed in a row, a bit 'spaced from one another. On the beam that leads us to the main ridge the sun shines, the wind chill making it more bearable. Proceed slowly, since the crest, then the warmth of the sun can not chill anything to violent gusts of wind that beat us. It seems to climb a Himalayan peak: the shortness of breath, slow movements, the frames, snow shaped by the wind. I feel my face burn.
up at the top of thick clouds are gathering blacks. The violent wind in the air raises myriads of grains of ice that scratched his face. The space above us is cleaned by opening to the sky as a friend. Climbing is
a crescendo of emotions, the ridge east of the blue sky Dolcedorme draw a curve of ice and snow. I struggle to crush the ice layer. I am very tired. We have not worn crampons, in some places must be very careful. Exceeds a passage of sharp daggers of ice. Then powder snow alternating with layers more compact. The horizon opens up to see the Stromboli and the Aeolian Islands. Continues to rise, please. I have a feeling that here, someone or something great, you are reminding me that most of the others giving me a great joy and serenity. It 's the charm of the height, oxygenated air that enters into every fiber of the thin body. Yet another
bit ', then the curve starts to degrade. We are prey to strong emotions. The summit. I cry like a baby. I feel my soul soothes and purifies. The embrace of my brother tried to revive him. I think Uncle Franco, where you at this time. I sit on the snow. The tears are icicles. I get lost in the infinite sky. A breath of wind, this time sweet. It 's a caress.
Protected by a ledge of snow eat something.
On the descent I tarry a little, 'I feel the silence of the wind, the light is dispersed by all parties, to charm me with his eyes caress high cliffs that plunge into the valley below. In the glitter of ice shavings I get off full of joy.
On the descent from the saddle of my friends back Grosso Beech children. He loves to slide along the tongue of snow, I watch them amused.
Among the trees high in the snow sometimes plunges us up to the dock. The valley, as we proceed, narrows, until you reach the path that leads to Cozzo Palumbo. I detach myself from the group. The forest is a kaleidoscope of lights and scents. Pine needles, smells of resin, I sit on a stone kidnapped by the silence of the wind that shakes the bare branches of some beech trees. I do not hear the voices of my friends. The light penetrates through the branches, making this valley no more gloomy. Right now I seem to be l’unico uomo sulla terra. Anche la vita dell’uomo come quella del bosco ha bisogno di luce. Di luce per sperare in un domani più luminoso e rendere più vigorosa la pianta dell’amore per la vita. Di luce per rinverdire la pianta della fede e della speranza.
Lascio l’abbraccio della montagna e torno da TE. Con gli occhi lucidi e arrossati di fatica. La luce del tramonto, luce che non muore…nel silenzio del vento. La luce dell’AMORE.

Un grazie di cuore
a mio Fratello, che tutti ormai nella rete conoscono come “U Lupu”,
a Franco per la simpatia,
a Giuseppe per la determinazione.
Grazie per l’AMICIZIA.

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BOUNDARIES

the village of 'PORSANTANGELO' borders: to the north and Mount PONTEDODDE PACCAR ELCE to the west, east and with BULAGAIO RIVER RIO and south to Perugia - the border issue is often to ' source of tensions with neighboring peoples