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that you exit from the live birth of provincia.nemmeno Joey. his hair too short, his fingers too cold. that she was a light blue. a bit 'off a bit' burnt. that there were ribs piano.che there were the vertebrae piano.nausea nausea nausée . the patches used in the cups of coffee, drowned. a green and a black sleeve and a crab claw. electrocardiograms plates, which did not mica in the roller coaster, lei.virgola. ideas that are, that were perhaps convalescenza.che died. a-pathos. bread and nightmares. liters of liquor to the liquid (s) Eriz. French authors and die there on. pine needles down my spine. then, then do not ask her to make promises Joey then first you do not keep. make picnic umbrellas between steps at the level of our souls with the blacks and blue checkered tablecloths.

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wrote letters, Joey. qwerty. say everything and nothing. going to love abandoned landfill in the backyard. fiocchidineve dita.contava counted with the sips of coffee with her fingers. floral sofas frozen. Used bikes painted red blue gold. rossobluoro. plastic bags in which suffocates. anise color as her eyes.
the herbal tea of \u200b\u200bthe green tre.delle quattro.che then is the same as cinque.incastrare his soul in the film, Violet. comeseifotosensibile today.

could unravel as Joey, a soul like that? DISORDER. DISORDER. DISORDER.

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The Princess and the Pea - Hans Christian Andersen

Image and fairy tales taken from the web

There was once a prince who wanted to be a princess for himself, but had to be a real princess. So he traveled throughout the world to find one, but every time something was wrong: there were a lot of princesses, but he could never be certain that they were real princesses, because something went wrong. So he returned home and was very sad, because he wanted to find the heart of a true princess.

One evening there was a foul weather, lightning flashed and thunder, the rain pouring down, how awful! They knocked on the door of the city and the old king went to open it. There was a princess out there. But as he was tanned with the rain and then bad weather! Water ran down her hair and clothes and shoes from the tip came in and went out at the heels, and yet claimed to be a real princess. "Now we'll find out," thought the old queen, but she said nothing, went into the bedroom, took all the blankets and put a pea on the bottom of the bed, which then put twenty mattresses and twenty feather dusters. There had to spend the night the princess. The next morning they asked her how she slept. "Oh, terribly wrong," said the princess, "I hardly slept all night. God only knows what was in bed, but I was lying on something hard, and now they are all a bruise. It's terrible!" So they could see that was a real princess, because through the twenty mattresses and twenty feather dusters had felt the pea. No one could be so sensitive if not a real princess. The prince took her hand in marriage, because now he knew he had found a real princess and the pea was put into the art gallery, where even today you can see, if no one has taken.

Mind you, this is a true story!

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empires blue. blue souls. Joey centimeters of snow underfoot. without the classic futuro.il future classic. {
then are all the rage the songwriters who are competing to be more anonymous tutti.poi go fashion. then criticize them all. then forgotten. who does not want too dreamy for words Joey.}

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The Little Match Girl - Hans Christian Andersen

Fairytale and images taken from the web

was terribly cold, snowing and starting to get dark, and it was New Year's Eve.

In the cold and dark a poor little girl, barefoot and bareheaded, walked down the street and had her slippers when she left home, but what she would have been served? were too big for her, so great that recently he had used his mother. And the poor little creature had lost once, when two cars passing at high speed had had to cross the road race. One of the slippers she could not find, and if the other took a boy, saying he would use it as a cradle, when he had children. Now the little girl went, and his bare feet were purple with the cold in an old apron she carried a number of matches and had a bundle in his hand. All day she could not sell anything and no one had given him a dime, there was hungry and cold, and so miserable, poor thing!

Snowflakes rested on her long golden hair, which curled nicely on the neck, but she did not think this really. The lights were shining from every window, and the road is a savory smell of roast goose was the last evening of the year, and at this she thought.

In a corner formed by two houses, one projected beyond the other, and sat crouched, pulling him to the legs, but she was still colder, and he dared not return home. She feared that her father would beat her, because she had sold no matches, and had not even a penny. And then it was so cold at home! They had only the roof above them and the wind penetrated through the cracks, even though they had been stopped up with straw and rags. Her little hands were almost frozen with the cold.

Ah! perhaps a burning match might be on to something. She could draw from the bundle and strike it against the wall, just to warm your fingers. He took one, and "Ritsch," against the wall. How to spark! like burning! was a flame warm and clear, like a little candle, as she held her hand. What a strange light! The little girl thought he was sitting by a stove with brass knobs and the fire burned so well! No, what happens? was already stretching the legs to warm up a bit as well, when the flame disappeared. And even with the flame of the stove. And he found himself sitting on the floor with a piece of burnt match in his hands.

now disfigure another, which lit up the wall, making it transparent like a veil. So he could see into the room a beautiful table laid with a white tablecloth and tableware made of porcelain and a steaming roast goose, stuffed with prunes and apples! The goose jumped down from the tray and dragged on the floor, already with a fork and a knife stabbed in the back, right toward the child, but at that moment the match went out and before the child was left alone on the cold wall. She lighted another. And he found himself sitting under a beautiful Christmas trees. It was larger and more decorated than the one he had seen the year before through the window at the rich merchant thousands of candles were burning upon the green branches, and colored pictures hung from the tree, just like the ones that decorated the store windows. Looked down upon her. The little girl stretched out her hand towards them, and the match went out. The countless Christmas lights went up higher and higher, until it became the stars in the sky, then one of them fall, leaving the darkness of the night a long line of fire. "Now somebody dies!" said the girl, for her old grandmother, was the only one that ever loved her, but who was now dead, had said: "When a star falls, then a 'soul goes to God."

He lit another match that lit up all around, and in that light he saw the girl's grandmother, shiny and sweet! "Grandma!" he cried, "Oh, take me with you I know you will go away when the match goes out, vanish like the stove, the roast goose, the Christmas tree!" It turned all the other matches which had in the bunch, because he wanted to keep her grandmother and the matches glowed with a radiance that was clearer than during the day. The grandmother had never been so beautiful, so great. She took the little girl in her arms, they both flew upwards in brightness and joy. Now there was neither cold nor hunger nor pain, were at God's little girl was found the next morning in the corner of the street, with red cheeks and a smile. She was dead, frozen to death on the last evening of the year. The new year was advancing on her tiny little body, surrounded by half burnt matches. "He wanted to warm up," said someone, but no one could know the good things she had seen, or in what light had gone with her old grandmother, in the joy of the New Year!

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Joey and Merv. plan to drown distances impossible. scars. bubbles lactose blue, turquoise. Dragons, jellyfish, killer. bites on a thousand pages of dusty books gialli.ormai now. autumn as a sharp blade. kilometers, water, hair, hats. lips to 'anti-inflammatory mint. I care about you. unidiciequindici. similarities and analog photography.

hello my name is Joey. and nothing.

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Joey would have liked to be able to relive one of those days that he had accurately captured in old films and then ordered carefully. not to forget. the rain falls and soaks into the cookies as she. chelavuoiancoraParigi? wrote. waves in the sea. foam of the waves in the sea. the blue metro stops in Paris. red raspberry tea out of place in that world that cyanotic. blue blood that has very little real and fogged glass in which he wrote farewell letters. all out of place, everything collapsed. and smothered under the rubble, Joey.

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preferred biting kisses Joey. Paris and take the neck was not by all, they said. new worlds to know that smell of hell and join. and at night it rained and Joey felt lonely and afraid. and the heart that was bad or maybe it was the lungs, or maybe it was just, just a hypochondriac. pads and care. Joey trying to nail that smile out of focus with the clips to the wires of the laundry not to let it go away, carried by the wind of autumn province. Profiles of focus on regional trains that leave even plan on rainy days. Joey hated to see them leave, plan, assholes. and he always went first, her. were from Pluto them. or hopping in the rings of Saturn? synapses embedded and painted blue eyes narrowed just tired.

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Venice Maybe I'm afraid of losing it all at once, if I talk about it. who wrote of Venice and travel really knew. Joey was afraid of losing his Venice. the water trapped in the dark and deep channels. Hispanics who cross the bridge with difficulty. believed there were poets who were defeated and psychologists in the grass. there were long white rabbit ears. There were cameras that were beating in his chest, he said. There were cameras that worked between neurons, he said. nicaragua green fruit and curly hair to elvis. I love you grant , evangelist.

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mercury.

And so was Paris once. but would not remain forever. Joey memories in the overlap, intertwine, and she did not have enough power to bind them to itself. mercury and silver. Venetian corners slowly covered the streets too wide boulevards of Paris. Low-speed trains hung over the tracks of the metro parisien. "Health is not only in millimeters of mercury of the thermometer, you know?" Joey unlined almost a smile of defiance to that which was staring at her almost white coat came from some lost planet. Pluto, maybe. blood in a dose of caffeine significantly above average also made it too quiet, as asuefatta. eyes that are crossed with his simply stated light color, the interior yellow regardless of what he tried desperately to scream with that look tired. along the yellow line that separated from the parallel metal, waiting for Matilda, Joey.

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THE FOX with a full stomach - Aesop

THE FOX with a full belly

Image taken from here

Winter was approaching. Trees without leaves no longer offered no shelter and pets were already prepared to face the cold. A young fox was wandering alone in search of a little 'food with which to appease the terrible famine that had struck her. They had not eaten for many days. His usual prey had taken refuge in shelters by eating hot food supplies collected during the summer and it was impossible to flush them out. Thus, the poor animal walked disconsolately thinking that the hunger was really a bad enemy. Suddenly, a delicious aroma teased the nostrils. The fox came up to the point of which there was the unexpected fragrance, and finally saw a huge piece of roast thoughtfully arranged in the hollow of an oak. Surely it was forgotten for some lunch pastor.

The animal is slipped into the cavity of the plant, being able to enter with great difficulty. When

is inside the hole he could appease his compelling hunger, devouring the flesh in one bite. After a few minutes, a fox with a frightfully full belly, he decided to go to return outdoor dall'incavo. But when he tried to pass the entrance hole from which he discovered was no longer able to overcome it! He had eaten too much and had become much bigger than before. Frightened to go out so much he tried he was ultimately hopelessly stuck in the crack!

The unfortunate animal began to scream until passing a second fox saw her and heard what happened said: "It 's no use crying. You should have patience and wait quietly inside the plant until your belly is not decreased. But you have reduced impulsivity in this condition and have to wait until you do not dispose of what have eaten. " Thus, the poor fox was stuck in the cavity for more than a day, regretting the warmth that would have been if he had waited patiently in the tree.

Patience and time are good allies to face any difficulty.

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Aesop

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Joey ethereal in its seventeen years and two {,} say landed in the lagoon. there was nothing romantic, you. water to the knees and narrow streets with names of flowers. smiles slanted too intrusive. loved Paris and its neurons fit the memories of that magical città.ci would bring Matilda, in Paris. or perhaps they had run up in Berlin. puntodidomanda. jackets, sailor or Gryffindor embedded in his body cold, almost bluish. be a 'killer was becoming increasingly challenging for her. murders and red wine and glasses. hot. hot. sharp. sharp. life will tear us apart. keys on the typewriter with which he wanted to write the good that he wanted to Matilda in small characters blacks. dark and determined. the clouds gliding in the sky in mid-September, just touching, Joey and his clear eyes, too dull. you lit another cigarette and drank a cup of coffee, but not to think, Joey. jo {y} and {division}. but there were dragons, dragons with strong shoulders that greeted the plan by Joey Cat.

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Joey played at being the inventor. I train tracks that fit the exchange undecided, too. imagined fucking friends as well, made of cigarettes, bitter coffee, and read poems floor. Plan to give meaning to the words one at a time. the melancholy that clung to his back with tape wrapping cartadazucchero color. color the sky blue eyes in his hands while fighting the two heavy sound like in the movies where the culprit is always maggiordomo.come. business as usual.

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Joey was surely not a superoe comics and all illusions that it was. the savior of good fame was not for her. maybe it was between the bad guys, her. and maybe if he deserved it as well. that his world a little 'dark blue colarsi seemed like the candles of the churches. yes, those of the saints. she missed angles and Paris with his hands clasped them carry with them. dovunque.comunque. ideas had never stopped rolling? the rain in and out of the warm sun of late August that penetrated the curtains too hot. dragons flying too far. and had beautiful eyes too. looked even more in the eye. walked along the white line dividing the street rocked by the wind of trucks and vehicles. too fast to notice her. too slow to bring it with them.

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rain in August mingled with coffee in the cup of Joe. old wheat fields behind the station had been replaced by corn fields behind the cemetery. new wounds that were not enough patches used, nor were they married them. Joey felt the hand of Mr. V. Between his. but it was cold. His hand was warm and the only heat he adored the little Joey.l 'smell of tobacco and caffeine on their hands who wore on his face like a mask. photographic negatives and fish eyes and the black and white like old movies. perhaps that was the hand away from her, Joey. trembled at the idea. trembling. maybe it was not that time. no, it was not.

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joy.


"no star that falls on him" Joey jot with a rounded and shaky writing in his notebook. notes of the movement of the dark sky on his taccuino.chissàcome sky over Berlin was in there if someone had escaped.
that his name is Joey felt doomed to be happy. a British mispronunciation of the word joy, its special curse. which then could not even believe exist, there were those who wondered what that noise was and no one ever knew how to respond. Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I'm through. screaming not to be forgotten Joey, I screamed with all the air that still could not breathe and had little, too little for his lungs. perhaps even his neighbors could hear. not felt the most. insomniac. that everything was dying. she, too, a bit '.