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"September, come on. It 's time to score" Mariano Grossi

Ecco la nuova creazione del poeta Mariano Grossi. Un cuore interista che si esprime con la poesia.
E la Juve è servita.

Settembre, andiamo. E' tempo di segnare.
Ora in terra sabauda il mio Pastore
riempie gli spazi e vola da Storari.
scende nell'Olimpico selvaggio
che verde è come i pascoli dei monti.

Ha bevuto profondamente ai fonti
alpestri, che sapor d'acqua natía
rimanga nel cuor garrulo a conforto,
che lungo illuda Melo e Marchisio in via.

Fracassato ha le lor terga a tutto spiano!

E vola pel tratturo gobbo al piano,
quasi per un erbal fiume silente,
su le vestigia di Maradona padre!
O voce
know of him before the trembling of their bench!

Now lungh'esso
walking the coast and without changing the raw hump is air. Shepherd
background hump wool
that almost no difference from the sand.
Del Blacks admire Rosanero engine:

"Oh, why is not this hunchback Shepherd?"

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letter sent today to the Gazzetta dello Sport

Dear, I consider it really offensive statements today in the Palermo president Zamparini.
Inter is the new Juventus? If we look at the first games of the season in the Super Cup was a goal annulled for an offside very regular Milito who was not there, against Udinese has not been whistled a penalty on Eto'o (net, and it would have been a red card for defender Friuli) and yesterday, apparently while he was distracted Zamparini, twice stopped a linesman for an offside attacker Inter-existent.
remember these episodes certainly not to say that there is a Complete anti-Inter, let alone, but we are certainly not a team favored by the arbitrators.
allegations to the Gazzetta dello Sport adds nothing, because you do not need defenders office! Sincerely, Stephen

Bellentani

The Best Of Victoria Paris

again without laptop.

Priscilla was drunk on brandy September 5, due to circumstances beyond my control (which was not much left of the will after sparkling, Syrah, vin santo and grappa, but still I have not drunk) and now the keyboard refuses will obey. :-( Fortunately

Piculin arrived last Saturday, Asus, and I'm back in

freedom.

Ok, Piculin is not much of a name, I would have called Fulgenzio, with Priscilla that there was fine, but have chosen the men of the house. Indeed.

Meanwhile, I found Mark Malvaldi, writer Class '74 posted by Sellerio. His first feature "The trump card in five" I liked it so much that I bought the second and third of the yellow ("The shell game" and "The King of Games") as soon as I could. And that is just set foot in Florence, which seem to have disappeared in the Romagna.

Le avventure semiserie di Massimo, barrista (sissì, con due erre!) sulla riviera toscana e del di lui nonno Ampelio - perennemente accompagnato dalla sua cricca di vecchietti, giocatori incalliti e incapaci di non farsi una sportina di fatti propri - mi hanno divertito ed incuriosito. In bocca al lupo a Marco Malvaldi, dunque, che se lo merita davvero.

Che altro? Ah, già, mi hanno regalato questo. Non dirò nulla, si commenta da sé.

Saluti.

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"... I was always the sweetest name of friend or, if you're not shocked, that of a lover or prostitute ..."

Ho terminato "Storia delle mie disgrazie" di Abelardo e "Lettere d'amore di Eloisa", volumetto unico sgraffignato a mia sorella che sta sgomberando casa.

Mi hanno molto colpita le parole di Eloisa al suo amato, che lei fino alla fine chiama
mio unico

anche quando è ormai palese che Abelardo ha spostato i propri sentimenti su un altro piano.

Lei lo ama per tutta la vita, da lontano, e quell'amore se lo fa bastare perché è disinteressato: ama l'uomo Abelardo, non the philosopher or public figure. For him, the same as Eloisa rationally acknowledged, was a violent blaze of the senses and nothing more. Eloisa is much stronger than her man and loves him unconditionally, where he is just deeply in love with himself.
Heloise has a great brain. Even Abelard, but self-centered and selfish. And enough, that the reading gave me a rage ...