When I go to my parents' house like to stay a few minutes alone in the room continues to be mine and rummage among the my things. Every object continues to be in the same place where I left off and even though it has no commercial value is important to me. Memories resurface always gently. I was given this ring in silver from a friend of mine who wanted a greater good friendship and I never had the courage to confess. This magazine instead, I received a gift from my classmate before moving to another city.
I do not like the memories. They make me feel bad. The memories you cry because time of your life and how much is spent unnecessarily. You yell what you could be who you were and become who you really are and you are. Now you can not do anything even if you believe that you do something. Is not it nice living memories and it is nice to have.
But in a drawer of the same cabinet that I see here is something again, a picture of the fourth grade class that I attended at the Salesian Institute in my hometown. 23 children in a classroom, placed on three lines, the highest and lowest behind seated or kneeling, each with a black apron, with the same collar and white bow with the same gray and light gray for boys for girls. Actually, the flakes were blue and pink but the photo is in black and white and shades of gray than the picture gives more consistency.
How strange, I can remember my friends even if not the names of all. There was a skyscraper, a tall boy, the first in the top left, and before him Ciccio, a fat boy in the class had given that very name. In the midst Andrea smiled and his ears earned a large part of the paper the picture itself. John smiled in the front row who had polio as a major slap in the face of which bore the consequences. Maria was the smallest in stature and Peter was sitting beside her with one eye perpetually ajar to hide his squint in felt ashamed. Denton named for its special image and the Abyssinian took over the nickname for that frizzy hair the color of his skin dark just the opposite German pallor of a corpse and straight-haired and blond.
For an absurd coincidence or chance a few days before I happened to see a similar class photo of the son of a friend of mine, The photo was in color and children's clothing made it even more colorful. We do not use the aprons and most certainly not the ribbons around his neck. Some say it is too reminiscent of the grim decades of a uniform and discipline.
All the children were smiling to the photographer to show off, almost everyone, a bell'apparecchio orthodontics. All the same, all beautiful, with small and insignificant nuances.
It 's the new generation pulled up with baby food and food preparations for children.
It 's the new generation that is bursting with health, ipervaccinata against everything and antibiotic coverage for all. I think where it fails the apron and bow thinks Plasmon to standardize the children but this is my personal opinion as mine remains the
I do not like the memories. They make me feel bad. The memories you cry because time of your life and how much is spent unnecessarily. You yell what you could be who you were and become who you really are and you are. Now you can not do anything even if you believe that you do something. Is not it nice living memories and it is nice to have.
But in a drawer of the same cabinet that I see here is something again, a picture of the fourth grade class that I attended at the Salesian Institute in my hometown. 23 children in a classroom, placed on three lines, the highest and lowest behind seated or kneeling, each with a black apron, with the same collar and white bow with the same gray and light gray for boys for girls. Actually, the flakes were blue and pink but the photo is in black and white and shades of gray than the picture gives more consistency.
How strange, I can remember my friends even if not the names of all. There was a skyscraper, a tall boy, the first in the top left, and before him Ciccio, a fat boy in the class had given that very name. In the midst Andrea smiled and his ears earned a large part of the paper the picture itself. John smiled in the front row who had polio as a major slap in the face of which bore the consequences. Maria was the smallest in stature and Peter was sitting beside her with one eye perpetually ajar to hide his squint in felt ashamed. Denton named for its special image and the Abyssinian took over the nickname for that frizzy hair the color of his skin dark just the opposite German pallor of a corpse and straight-haired and blond.
For an absurd coincidence or chance a few days before I happened to see a similar class photo of the son of a friend of mine, The photo was in color and children's clothing made it even more colorful. We do not use the aprons and most certainly not the ribbons around his neck. Some say it is too reminiscent of the grim decades of a uniform and discipline.
All the children were smiling to the photographer to show off, almost everyone, a bell'apparecchio orthodontics. All the same, all beautiful, with small and insignificant nuances.
It 's the new generation pulled up with baby food and food preparations for children.
It 's the new generation that is bursting with health, ipervaccinata against everything and antibiotic coverage for all. I think where it fails the apron and bow thinks Plasmon to standardize the children but this is my personal opinion as mine remains the
NAUSEA
:-(
:-(
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