Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Royal's German Surname

Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami

I.

was thirty years old, and I was sitting on board a Boeing 747. The giant aircraft began the descent through thick layers of clouds rain, and soon it landed at Hamburg. The cold November rain tinted dark all the land transforming the scene, with the mechanics in raincoats, flags hoisted on anonymous airport buildings and the sign advertising the BMW, in a bleak landscape of the Flemish school. It 's true: I am back in Germany, I thought.
When the plane had completed the landing, "No smoking" and went out through the speakers on the ceiling began to spread low-volume background music. Norwegian Wood was a watered-down version of the Beatles in the orchestra. And as always recognize the melody was enough for me to feel upset. Indeed, this time I was agitated and upset as I had never happened.



Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Recipe With Chicken In Processor

The Devil's swamp of George Sand


CHAPTER I
plowing

"A la Sueur de ton visaige
You gagnerois ta pauvre way
Après long travail et usaige,
Voicy the mort convoie you here. "

L a quatrain in the old French post below a picture of Holbein is a deep sadness in its simplicity. The composition is a plowman in the act of conduct his plow in the middle of a field. A vast country stretching into the distance, dotted with poor huts, and the sun sets behind the hill. It 's the end of a hard day's work. The farmer is old, stout, covered with rags. The four horses of the shot that he pushes forward are thin and exhausted, the land sinks into a plowshare bumpy and rebellious. One is happy and be smart in this scene of sweat and toil. It 'a great character, a skeleton armed with a whip, which runs in the groove next to the frightened horses, and hitting them, making the old boy from plowman. E 'death.

Saturday, November 6, 2010

Chridtian Sympathy Phrase



Ce grand malheur, de pouvoir it être seul. (La Bruyère)

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

What Temperature Should My Radiators Be

STO still smoking ...

I'm still smoking my cigarette

butt now.

Christmas outside
again
want to sit at home
or fleeing
pending steps
that Christmas steps
puffs
took puffs
curlicues of smoke
ash here and there
on the ground
and on the sofa
its last legs and butt
it does not want anything to end

in an ashtray
and two fingertips
a bit 'roasted
that tighten the teeth.

Giuseppe Gibilisco - various