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Draw

Have you ever fought against yourselves?

Do not do it.
Do not do it, because you can not win, because your victory over yourself to provide for your loss. So how can you win if you lost?

I can not win against myself. I can not even lose.
I can draw.

Trimming.
The draw, even worse than defeat: you do not know if you have been good enough to win or weak enough to lose. The draw leaves you in your initial condition, do not say anything. Body of Lies. No lie.

I do not want to try something that I feel? Can I forget something I always jumps to mind? Or someone?

No. P airy.
I'm back to the initial condition. Nothing has changed.

Nothing ...

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Caldarroste

before the fire, and warms me around the chestnuts into the pan. I seem to be cooked to perfection.

I do not want to soil the tablecloth, I open a newspaper and to roast chestnuts on it.
What a great heat.

I take in hand, I hopped from one palm to another, I burned trying to peel them. Gradually formed a small pile of shells. And beneath them, barely visible, a face, in print.

The coincidences. The right page of the newspaper right.
Roby Piantoni, mountaineer Coleraine. Friends and family will make you free tomorrow, Sunday, at the Church of Coleraine (BG)

Coincidences ...

I do not think I'll see you in the door over Albania with all those kids who want chocolate. Not see you smile more, no more will I see you sign your poster. Never again.

many things you take his life. Really a lot. Escape, you want them, you want to stay, but for one reason or another, by force, with vehemence, the fuckin 'river of life brings you on.
Sometimes you see them next to you only go fast, just a flash and go. Other times you manage to
was they, for a while '.

But everything, everything flows. Runoff.

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A roof of green leaves filter the light coming attenuated in the undergrowth, where he also shows his hair cut beech

over 1300 meters and also beech ridge are finalizing the foliation.

On the branches of the larches, next to the flowers stretch the tufts of new needles;

also greening the broom and wild roses bring the first stones.

In the darkness of these woods, are filled with flowers the last of the bare branches mezereum Daphne,

while in the full light of the Prairie Euphorbia Cipressina is full of its yellow-green flowers.

to Scilla is not that the V of the leaves appear yellow anemones bloom hounded by

that are spreading under the trees.

The buds of the daffodils have already reached the Height "and the leaves are getting ready to unfold,

but especially the time of the gentian and orchids

the sunny slopes are dotted violet-blue flowers of Gentiana kochiana

and the yellow or red Dactylorhiza sambucina,

together with the yellow flowers of Primula veris

that seems to abandon his heads to the whims the wind blows on this pasture almost incessant, sometimes sweet, other wilder.

But now spring has come on these mountains and the cold winter months that remains is some slight, vague memory.

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Bormio

Bormio

And here we are with our mini vacation. This time two days between Bormio and Livigno. Baths, good food, snow on the Stelvio, a few bottles of wine in Livigno, quick step in Valtellina, an invitation to dinner is not never refuses.
See you next trip ...

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Piansecco a Spider '09 Spider

Piansecco a Spider '09

Last exit the group in 2009. Amazing year for Spider. For the first time we were able to carry more than 4000 meters a nice bunch of guys. Piansecco The output was characterized by strong wind and cold, without forgetting the snow and ice hair ... But the joy and good company there have been the same. And now all in "hibernation" until the resumption of operations in 2010, who knows what will happen next year ... We'll see. Hello is always
voster Boss Rafiki

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al (upstream) to the Spider Bar

Deer Mount Bar

Party to go with the Spider group to look at the deer Monte Bar arrived in time. .. eat pizza. Okay, better late than never ... The deer will be for next year. Enjoy your meal by Rafiki
Boss

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The past and memories that will not return

Sometimes it's amazing how our mind is subject to the disturbing flash. Maybe just made up stories from our subconscious, but it probably happened.

And that's why looking out the window of that old restaurant in the mountains, looking at his "historical" I terrace we met older people who play card games, old hunters sipping hot soup or young couples that there are no clubs or local fantamitici now found themselves under those screws look in his eyes.

I also see ... happiness

The ripening grapes, persimmons that secular bears fruit every year, regularly collected by gnarled hands.

Today those khakis stay on the tree. They will fall and rot. Just like today.
we no longer feel so happy with a mediocre soup, or so gratified by an evening in a place that now seems decidedly not cool.

We can still fully enjoy a loaf of bread with salami? A Saint Lucia as the mandarins do not get it. And children who came with a pacifier hanging from the trees of sugar while the mothers gathered in the garden now can not eat too many sweets, they would become obesi.Quei child born in the stables, because the hospital was too far away, today can not go above 1000 meters before a certain age. It would do him harm.

What is the mountain, what are the roasted chestnuts in the pan "with busi" in the evening, with all Ch around the fire, which more than to eat served to warm the hands? Where it all ends, what is it that so inexorably engulfs the past? And the cards, the briscolone, and give some food to the hunters passing through? Where am I?

But the terrace is empty ... we are just kids, kids evil ripping the leaves to the poor lives.
View photos: faces tough series, the family photos is a rare opportunity. Who knows how far will have done, Mr. Photographer. Boys in two colors with baskets on their shoulders. Hay and fatigue. Hay and simplicity. Hay and a smile, then can go play with their friends.


Hay and happiness ...

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COME AND VIVIL

Ripon took a post here on the blog "Generacion Y". I do it because I think it is particularly significant, and that draw attention to it is a must.

"Inspired by one of the many tourist propaganda, I had an idea to attract visitors to the island. It is not an ecological journey through the squares and monuments in the country. A stay at" the Cuban ", it could be the slogan This tourism promotion, pay in advance to disinterest of its possible users. Come and live it, recite the cover of the ration that will be delivered to anyone who wants to try this adventure.
The accommodation will have nothing in common with luxury rooms that exhibit hotels of Varadero and Cayo Coco, because our tour operators suggest small rooms in Central Havana, Buena Vista and huts in a crowded shelter damaged by hurricanes. Tourists who buy this package can not use a convertible currency and for their expenses for two weeks will have to rely on the average wage for one month, three hundred pesos. In this way, they can not take a taxi to be paid in uniform or driving a rented car through the streets of the country, will required the use of public transport for those interested in this new kind of travel.
For those who choose this tour will be banned restaurants, but will receive a eighty grams of bread every day. Perhaps it will be lucky to get half a pound of fish before you start the return flight. To move in the other provinces can not rely on the tourist company Viazul, but instead of staying three days in line for a ticket, they will simply buy it after only a day of waiting. Will be forbidden to get on a yacht or hire a surfboard, which had never ended their stay at ninety miles instead that in our "Paradise" Caribbean.
At the end of their stay, the brave walkers will receive a diploma of "connoisseurs of Cuban reality," but will come some time in order to be declared as "adapted" to our everyday absurd. It will be leaner, more sad, with an obsession with food that will meet in the supermarket of their countries and, above all, a terrible allergic reaction to the publicity tours. Those that have a golden propaganda Cuba made of mulatto, rum, music and dance, can not hide the view of falls, frustration and inertia that now they have known and lived. "



Surprised? Yet Cuba should be the country with perfect health, social security and education.
It 's all fiction. Painful fiction. Because it's true, damn true that for us is mulatto Cuba, cigars and carnivals.

Do not you feel strange knowing that I live "over a mirror? A mirror that distorts your image, a cloak of lies that is hard to crack, to get to the true light.

Yet just a link. A single, insignificant link.

So ... go and live it.

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Generation Y

Yoani Sánchez, she is the protagonist of this story, was born in 1975. Twenty years ago a child, just as he completed a degree in English literature, philology Hispanic and Latin American literature contemporary. Thesis: Parole under pressure. A study of the literature of the dictatorship in Latin America. A theme that perhaps as content can be played in a perfectly orthodox, but already the title of which may play a flamboyant statement, in a context such as that of the Castro regime. Once the University decides that in fact the ivory tower of philology is not his vocation, and 2000 is used at the Editorial Gente Nueva. But with the state salary in Cuba do not maintain a family, and she began to give lessons to the illegal English German tourists visiting Havana. A choice of dissent have already implied, to enter into the parallel, but widely in Cuba, if only for mere survival needs. Anyway Yoani can remain at a higher level: not only with respect to students or graduates who prostitute themselves, but also to the engineers who get to drive a taxi, the teachers who are employed in hotels or brain surgeons and nuclear physicists who are salesmen in the shops for tourists.

The blog "Generation Y", translated into Italian by Jordan Wolf, is the voice of Cuba: a window to a world of illusion and often misunderstood

http://desdecuba.com/generaciony_it/

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End April 13-April

As a light curtain, the leaves of light green color of the sky beyond the forest 1000 meters and begin to open even the buds of beech cut, while

on the branches of trees that run along the crest of the first shoots appear

and multiply the flowers of the larches.

the edge of these woods flourished Daphne mezereum

along with extensive carpets of yellow Gage.


A Pulmonary grown isolated in the full light of the prairie, does not rise much above the grass;


where the grass thins and opened some farfara.



At 1300 meters the first buttercups bloom



and among the long leaves of the daffodils toss their shoots.


Over 1500 meters the last melting snow accumulations, leaving pools of water trails and crocuses


that are lower rather touching, leaving only tufts of their leaves av with the characteristic white line .

around them seem to be competing to see who the first blooms of gentian and koch sambucina



with their rich colors that characterize the spring of this pasture

Primula veris on which the leaves hanging in the wind

its yellow flower heads.

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Nailed (a typical Saturday in airsoft)

Azzo, Geez, Geez ...

Hell, maybe from here ...

Ting! TING! ti-ting! Tinggi!
Shit!

Here I am. Nailed.

Nailed behind a red trailer. As soon as I lean, shot from all sides.

Jerry is gone, he tried to advance, but they caught from the side.
And here I am alone.

Of the two in the wood, no trace. Where am I? I I can not move from here! I serivrebbe at least a little 'cover!

Wait, maybe ...

TINGTINGTING!

Uuuufff, by a hair! Fuck me just what tip!

And what do I do?
And ok, we are here ... see what happens ...

And meanwhile? bah ...

Think, think, think ...

are concentrated, I do not think of anything else. I can not think of anything else.
Do not get hit. Being able to get out of this situation.

Hey, over here I can peek!

Let's see ... ah there it is! you see only the testTINGTINGTINGTING!

And okay, well now I have seen .. at least I know where ..




ffff ....

Shoot the wood. Eventually they move. Let

from the left side ....
I have to take up left-handed to aim, but better to go out without hearing ...
...

nothing.

Ganz right track.

And who is that?

...
GAS?

trrr trrr ... ..
TINGTINGTING!

But shit! I've missed you!

- "he is shooting, is still back there ..."

Mythical ... sgam again .. And

right? ... if I lean just a little ...

Here, No longer there ... support the barrel on the hook and keep your aim ...

here that juts out e. .. TRRR ... TRRRR

HIT!
Good! one less.

If now the guys did ..

TRRR TRRR ... .. Shots from the woods ..

Gas is hit!

It 's over, it' OVER!

Mythical, I did it! Great guys, no more than I hoped!

I was stuck ...