Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Bmw Front Plate Install

The day my father became a tree glove box

My mother never spoiled me dig in the dirt of the mountain. Yes on the sandy beach or the park, but not in the bush. Once I was surprised to do so. Your father did him no good, I said. No. And he repeated. Never again. I loved her. My mother was dark and high. Never again. And it swelled the veins in his neck, as small and thin branches were simmering with his jugular. I do not remember the height of my father, and her hair could not see him ever since, when I was born, he was already bald. Of it remains in me a picture. Just one. Maybe dreamed, invented, carefully selected from the pages of a book of illustrations. He leaning back, with two huge plastic bags covering his hands and his face, a beard like chipped, thick, reddish skin and and hardened, forming small mounds blackish. Your father is no longer out of bed because their roots have been fused with the inferior wood headboard. So my mother never let me sleep on any couch that was not iron. If possible, without storage, with the mattress on the floor. As a result, many were the nights that I spend with her. Huddled. I do not remember the time we left. Perhaps he was 2 or 3 years. Maybe less. She screamed. The branches grew in his neck. And seeing the light is turned into shouts that sawed the air, spreading bark on my ear small wind that used to tickle me.
say that over time I forgot my father would be inaccurate. With three years old was not to forget or to remember. Soon, very little of the time slots left in my memory still readable. The rest are encrypted hieroglyphs, which often collide with reality, coated with indecipherable past. Do not play with the earth of the mountain, my mother told me. Your father was involved in that. Or why not tell her but that was my only one conclusion. We walked through the woods, endless hours. Some nights I even slept outside in summer, with the heat. Together. Do not pull the bark, I cried when I saw a tree fingering. At first I was frightened screams. My mother often left me alone. That hurt. Especially in those moments that was in a trance and was approaching a small oak snatched me with painful sufficiency, the caresses that were for me.

So, perhaps with a vengeance, more than once tossed out the window plants and small trees that adorned our home and she watched and watched with great zeal. One of those times came from the street with the pot shattered in his hands. From it hung a small stem dead. The look of my mother was panic. Among the land could see a small heart-shaped stone. The branches now spread across his forehead, arms, hands and eyes. Look what you've done. I said. I've killed. I threw the plant and, soon after, his face took on a semblance of repentance. His eyes seemed to sink under the ground, many feet deep, light years ahead of me, as if nothing could desecrate the surround image who knows what underground. Let, then wipe. I felt that something was bothering me in my index finger. He had a chip embedded in the flesh.

Monday, March 16, 2009

Szkoła P[odstawowa Jejkowice

events

The event began with a miracle glove. Yes, indeed a miracle, said the majority. Others attributed this extraordinary case to the stubborn soul of the deceased, unable perhaps to leave this world without carry out those tasks that life could not reach. A saint, they said some women, it certainly is a saint. Does anyone doubt that Frederick was to abandon Hesteria without leaving their mark on us? They questioned some of his friends, as implying that this was something they expected or even calculated, as if his last breath of life, this companion would have confessed their plans one to one and they all around him, had found in the confession the essence of something they already knew, so latent that the goodness of this man was beyond its bodily prison. The beneficiaries: the children of compartments of both dealt in life. He was called the Big Fedi, and he loves this name, as if to hear him pretend not to know, seeing a body referred to his younger, more vigorous.
This was not here yesterday, said the Mother Superior, who barely carried a sack of rice to malrepartir among all children and just realized that in that bag, stay had enough money to build the orphanage that was his dream, in addition to decent food for a year to all children now living there. Nobody knew the source of the funds until Helena, the wife of recently deceased, she realized that her account had net disappeared and running, went to notify the authorities that relatively soon, amounted to discover that that amount had been taken from the account Federico Hesteria last night, hours after he expired, unique, and that she knew best anyone with the right to put your hands on your money. So Helen, who did not like the people especially since the glove box for years attributed to a lover in the neighboring town, Jered, was quick to communicate, surprising the whole village with the goodness of man, ruthless rebel against that earthly death , that soul was capable of transporting money to a school for homeless children.
Two days
was another surprising fact linked to it. My husband could not do otherwise, always so good, thoughtful, then said Helena, Lloret on a tissue paper filled with memories. And is that good woman was found one morning on the table with the pendant of pearls from her mother, committed years before in order to survive both, where the shortage struck, killing even his only son, Federico. Poor, until it was not we did not realize how little importance this trinket. But there it was again. They gave it to a man from the south, which in turn sell it to another man, and he to another and so on until you get back to it, not know what monetary random. The people visited the grave of Federico letters Hesteria, seeing in him a kind of messiah, seeing it as another human goodness, but goodness expanded into the air, the walls, the stones of the people, a goodness beyond the grasp of a body, lost in the mortal goodness, now free to act with impunity in the world of the incomprehensible. Waiting for a cure cripples, the aged, cured his arthritis see, the cancer, the metastases excised.
week
When this horrible incident took place in school of homeless, no one thought of Federico Hesteria. At least until the child said her name, naturally, as if they had been abandoned and never every day like it used to do, you visited in the left hand carrying the bag of lemon drops. Yes, it was he told me to go with him. Of course it was him. Actually that was the transcript of the interrogators in that room just nodded his head, his shoulders hunched and his eyes following the shape of the tiles. The deceased woman was shocked when she was called to testify. My husband? Do you believe that a man who died donated his fortune to a school is capable of a few days later, sodomizing an 8 years? It's full of blood, said the senior monk, the boy had been beaten on the back and his right arm completely match. It is the work of a man, and there are no men. First appeared painted on the grave of Federico Hesteria. Rapist, pederast, were the words that poured unknown hands on the stone with irregular and shaky line. Even some old lady came to the tomb cleaned of debris and provide support for him, a kindly man who, thereupon, prayed for a cure for the terminal illness of her husband. What if life was ever suspicious behavior with children?, Asked the nun, who goes. It was a decent man, please. Exemplary husband, exemplary misanthrope. Soon Helen was glove as not bear to see sullied the memory of her husband. The Gossips claim was not alone, but with that dark character Jered. And so ended the miracles of glove compartment. A month after the rains began. And before the end, everything was back to normal and absolute.

Monday, March 2, 2009

Dress For Contemporary Solo

invented words with another woman

Joaquin Berto, a writer, deviser words, irrational entigretado with touches of calcium sulfate. Hailed by the independent press, cheered by young hienescos melanin overwhelmed. Famous for esquilofrases as "Miraculous spinning wheel, sharp, clear crap, random, eroded, unmistakable rough skin of a camel, like a turtle with traces of crimson fucked a daiquiri glass." This man, messiah of a new narrative asensibilidad, we found a hot morning in February with a deep fever at home. He looked away. Nothing. The refrigerator. Nothing. Pantry. Nothing. The toilet. Nothing. Bird cage. Nothing. His canzoncillos. Hardly. The dishwasher. Nothing. Searching for his fourth found the solution to the puzzle: your computer. Your computer sucked. Then called a technician, one either, "enazulmonado like a whale semen restregante drawn upside down with crayons in black and white bastard prick enazulmonado encabrietado because, just by clicking empinchetando dirty sadness tears of stone " typed as he expected.

Then it was technical. Although the apparatus looked and I wonder what you do, sir? I am a writer of words nventador . Uhh, bad thing, "said the technician. You see, always offering up words a complication to the computer: they are newly hatched, so you just control your sphincter, and instead of peeing, because they need to pee in the trash, do it in the CPU, making everything smell shit. Did not you write rude words? The truth is yes. Uhh, horrible, rude words shit everywhere. You have to look after them. If, moreover, fluttering leaves, ie if not placed in a context where it is domesticated, they become wild. So how does the computer smell Joyce, asked Berto. Horrible, smelly, but lived in Ireland, and there all smells really bad, so it achacaría to drunken pissed on his website as well, that tipple so you know ... Ahh. Well, I will note sir, thank you.

Thus, once the technician left, Joaquin invented words, began to remove profanity and neologisms. It was then found and translated the phrase: "With the blue overalls, like the night to scrub fluid of a calf drawn with colored pencils black and white, blue overalls smarty sulking because of punctures, eventually getting the skewer to prick the dirty sadness tears of stone. " And then as the Word was beginning to malfunction. As if, after missing the fragrant words, a kind of anarchy reigned in the program. Began to fill the texts alone, without writing anything suspiciously resulting sentences equal to everything he had written earlier. Atiuste, he said, lie looked bored her pride as an artist. Therefore tried to give coherence to his words: "I had a blue jumpsuit ... I was sick of what I did ... his life was a mass of loose women, as if someone had Scrubbing ... no ... as if I had all the makings of a nostalgic life in color, but just saw all white ... no .... " Damn, you're not going anywhere so, Joaquin said Berto (he always liked to be treated you.) Wrote "rationalizing elefantesco greening." Damn, you're smelling bad, he thought. Made a determination, would come down to the drugstore to per colony, to develop his art was worth a good perfume. There was a couple of apples foreshortening enhijoputizando entorneo my body sharp corners that my tears. " Entered the store, relieved, at last was back just before overcome adversity, and once passed over the purist language, now would do the same with the union, fired up and smelling gigabytes.

- Sorry, the cashier asked, does perfume for your computer?
- No, sorry, I was exhausted, he answered with little eye contact. He added the last one I just brought this gentleman in horn-rimmed glasses.