Free Wooden Clock Plans

Continuing ...

continued to prepare ...
Between yesterday and today I waved a bit 'relatives, all that before they ask me "are you prontaaa?" I say "no " and their "but you're not happy? ".
Yes, my joys, I'm glad, but the added stress of starting more stress examination and see if I have the right to be irritable

= _ = However, one nice thing about these days is that I received an email from Ms. Sachiko our host! It 'was very young! * _ * And more confirmation that I had in that house have the connection! (And it was discovered that Mrs. Sachiko went quietly to the internet point ... WOOOOOSH )
now I hope there is only the wireless, otherwise we are apart!
In addition there is also a Chinese girl at home with us ... beginning to wonder if the couple run a hostel Onozaki XD

Having started this blog after the arrival of the information concerning the host family, that part has not been documented.

It all started a few weeks ago when, as a happy Easter, I found a mail- Iwase St. (Shibuya Language School of the holy man who has the patience to communicate with us XD) that I communicate the information about the family .. Taketomi Taketomi good note.
communicates it to the Mouse, Joy and rejoicing, we begin to try to locate the house on google maps and beginning to make me all about my mental preparation between home and school and trains to take.
few days passed and I called the Ste trust that, after talking to Rid we do not know 'as was pointed out that I had told him the name of my family tells me that the two of them are from Taketomi.
Ok, at this point I start to think that Iwase-san has been made or that a cane Taketomi have a hotel. Check email and found an email in which the holy man tells me that because they wanted the family to tie the two subjects mentioned above accepts only girls have exchanged their families. MA CHUUUUU . _.
And I that I had already loyal to Mrs. Chizuko!

At this point the sclera starts to understand the way to school (we now have to make a change of train and pay more since they are private lines, although the distance is less than before Shibuya-_-) and of course I spent my beloved 3 days to fix google maps obsessively, hoping to have found the right place!

For the train we should take the Odakyu Line by Kyoudo to Shimo-Kitazawa and then switch on the Keio Line Inokashira up to Shibuya! And on this line we find the Zucchi *-*

In all this I'm talking about people who are with me without having made the least XD then, hang up the post of Zucchi who had made a presentation to us poor wretches that we must go, I've also done a similar thing:
mugshot / design + profile
start by saying that the drawings of people seem pretty normal, but A whole is PPARENZA.

Name: Reru. Reru-chan. Barerù.
In summary That is myself.
What can I say? I love cats, books and movies. XD They are easily irritated and I am delighted to feed my junbini with annual supply of brownies.

Name: Zucchi. Zucchini. Tsuki-chan.
In summary: Our proclaimed goddess dell'onniscenza: Do not have time to rise to a doubt she already has the solution ready XD
lover strawberries, cats and frequent drinker you. Affectionately known as Fat Plant \u0026lt;3

Name: Topo. Tupaster. Raton.
In summary be of limited size, but much pucciosa!
cat lover (we are all un'ossesione for cats, are not you understand?) And manufacturer of polymer clay trinkets so nice to come from the decay XD perennially late.

Name: Stesansan Ste. Sansan.
In brief: Man characterized by appetite and eternal grin from porn star XD
obsessed lover of fantasy and so heavy that video games and the like.

Name: Rid. Discomfort. Mr. Shrimp.
In summary disturbing the person you love Jrock and bass player. Nerd callous.
He has a tendency to drool uncontrollably in front of an Asian. Breeder murderers of pigeons.


We then Jade, our artist and Honorary fellow of Miyazaki, which will be hosted by a friend in our own time.


Finally Letizia and Angelica, our otaku XD who have joined the project later in the trip.


conclude this post with the song of Super Junior who is haunting me these days.

Mata neeee \u0026lt;3

How Many Kcal In Chicken Chow Mein

Convinced but not too ° _ °

Again here wasting time!
ok, No, today I finished my dose of study nauseating (though I would read two novels ... wooooosh)
E 'fault of zucchini that made me want to write ...
But how nice is the new template ?????? eh? eh? eh? I can die happy XD
Sin convince me little dark ... everything makes me headache ° _ °

Coooomunque, yesterday in triple skyFosa conversation with pumpkins and Mouse we have "compared" ; lists luggage for Giappolandia (I put quotes because my list has been lost ... as previously stated, I repeat that the horizon of expectations and the spread of the novel in the 700 to confuse the brain and make me these small errors of course)
In any case I should be more or less in place, leaving out the "list of things to buy at the last moment because we are of Bonehead. "

moments of life * bloody *

Zucchi, "So ... the gift for the family"
Mouse: "What course?"
Me: "Speck"
Zucchi, "Do not know"
* * WOOOOOOSH

An interesting point of the list (divided into structures and superstructures, because Marx is able to merge the brain up to this point) is the part on the adjustments of sockets.
Like a good child-sighted, I have previously informed about the existing outlets in Giappolandia (type A and type B), then went boldly electrician, feeling that these two names (type A and type B, to be precise) he said saying they do not know what they were.

To which I wondered if it was for there to sell peanuts.

After I pulled out a UK plug from € 12 (followed by the expression on my "beautiful, what can I do?") And a kit from € 18, provided with plugs to go halfway around the world, we arrived at compromise of a spinet from 3 €, which I think it would be type A (and if not go and when back in August I'm going to stick it to him on the nose), to which was added a plug FURTHER type L, because the connector in question has only two entrances, too bad my PC for example also has the ground .. . (3 entries to understand)
All this mess to 4 €. I got one for me and one for the Mouse. Turning now to know that the Mouse can be found at the airport. CHUCHO.



But talk about good things and fun, the Zucchi (also known as the omnipresent and omniscient Goddess) has developed the personal profiles of participants in the ryokou (travel) which makes us seem like a lot of superstars (or criminals, depending on the points of view XD)

* inform me in september, direct output of the dates of the exams (but I speak as polished uu) and I'm laughing like a hyena for the surname of prof. muahahhaahaah of contemporary history, however, the 10 English, 14 Korean, 21 story ... I can do it ... I think °_°)*

Returning to personal profiles ... I said, this thing makes us seem very criminals XD (especially considering plans SOMEONE .. do not make names cough cough)

Everything always with a view to someone who affect our blog XD (but remember that I and we are the ones that go Zucchi minutes entirely convinced of living in The Truman Show and a speaking with its imaginary audience ... but we really do these things? oh lord ...)

However as soon as the zucchini publish criminal profiles, I shall also listed here ... because it's fun.

I leave you my joy (I talk to my imaginary audience) I get to dance around the ZukkinTotem and will delight you with this picture genial uu

Laundromats Upper East Side

Soon ... Japan!

always admitted that I did not collapse first departure!
stealing precious time to study (I self-flagellation), I finally decided to resurrect this blog. I had long since erased all the previous posts and will now be used to prepare the record of the forthcoming trip to that of Giappolandia.
We are running out now ... but I still can not well aware of it, probably because with the committee to prepare and anxiety resulting not have enough presence of mind.
Or maybe it's just that I'm avoiding thinking about it carefully, because if it starts to do so would take me an anxiety that I'm not sure of controlling.
I do not want to think about a month away from my home in a country they know only from a distance with a language that I love but I know even superficially.
'll understand what living there? Will I be able to get by? Shares
how to make the list of what I bring, buy the latest things that are missing do not seem entirely real, as if you were making all these preparations on behalf of someone else ...
But am I giving birth. IO.
And I believe that the desire to do so and the thought that is half of my life that I want to go there I will overcome anxiety. I'm sure.
I only have time to do training-autogenous

XD Well, I would say it is out of the bloody break from literary essays (although my brain is screaming "nooooo do not go back on that schifezzaaaaa") but I
doubt that I will return very soon to write, if only because I can not find anything to distract me.
not have time to give an account of how the idea of traveling to Giappolandia, I will mention the wonderful post of my zucchini, our omniscient and omnipresent goddess XD

Raven Rileymobile Raven Riley

c_h_original @ 2010-06-17T17: 35:00

LACRIMOSA-Requiem in D Minor
Anyver_ Deb

Chapter VI [Parts XIII-XIV-XV]




vm 14


XIII

the Lord I said: "A *** Where is your brother?"

And I answered: "I do not know. Am I my brother's keeper? "

Inside, I felt nothing, not even anything that would be something, I was frozen.

disembodied, a asensoriale to be moved without notice.

He was dead. I had killed. Me, I'd sold his soul to him, I had killed.

Oh, Cain, have mercy on yourself.

"What have you done? The voice of thy brother's blood is crying to me from the ground Now you are cursed, far from that ground, which of your hand he drank the blood of your brother. When you work the ground, it shall no longer yield its crops will be a restless wanderer on the earth. "

deserve something better? I was not listening, God was only the presence of a distracted conscience in my mind, where a thick darkness of the moonless nights blunts most everything, thoughts, sounds, memories. I sensed the voice of my brother screaming from the stained earth. I heard him swear vengeance, I heard him call me and cajole and lure him to dismiss them just yet, I would never have released him. And as he said my name like my name was his last word, I swore to myself that his name would be mine, and decided that I would never, if not in agony release of my death.
"My fault, I muttered ... and I cried, and talked to my brother, although he believed that God I am addressing to Him-My guilt is too big to get lost! You have driven me today from this soil, and I shall be hidden from you. I'll be a wanderer, a fugitive on earth, and whoever finds me will kill me! "
I wanted it to him I wanted with all my heart, that he was to kill me. I wanted both, and I thought that if you want still worth something in the world, so it would be.
"Whoever kills Cain," said the Lord, he will suffer vengeance seven times. "
I imposed a sign, because it was struck by my encounters.
is something that you can not see, but you hear all around me: I can not be loved or hated. Do not stir up feelings strong enough or large enough to make ideas come to someone's desire to kill me ... they are transparent, as if I had only half-shadow, as if I did smoke. They thought for a moment that you touched her, but does not stay in your mind long enough to impress my presence, my existence. Only a few were chosen by God can feel, without love me, hate me not. They have to do with me, and do so with absolute indifference. I'll
andai, senza più incontrare né mia madre né mio padre, augurando loro di avere un altro figlio, che poi ebbero, e di essere felici; non era colpa loro. Era mia.
Dio mi scelse una moglie, e lei mi diede un figlio, Enoch, da cui venne tutta la mia discendenza; fondai una città, per lui, ma sparivo lentamente. Mi consumavo nel nulla, perpetuando il ricordo di mio fratello in questo universo, finchè un giorno Dio parlò ancora con me.
“Tu soffri, Caino, ma la tua colpa è troppo grande perché io la perdoni. Questo ti dico: per espiare il tuo peccato, vivrai lungo tutte le ere a venire, e vivrai in my name. Because I have created men weak and prone to evil knocking on their door, and just the right way they get to heaven on the last day. You will then run along that route, and show them the glory of the Lord when they stray. You do this, and give you the look of a child because no one ever get up the hand or voice against you. The day of your death, will be the last day of the men, and will be the day that you have served your sin. "
I nodded, indifferent, and listened to my body younger, smaller, and become one of a boy of only twelve years, my hair was as white as the day I was born, my violet eyes, bushy eyebrows ... I was my brother. And while the power of destruction was born into my hands, I found myself smiling bitterly: the glory of the Lord. What hypocrisy. I would not have shown the way to men, I would have punished them when they stopped keeping. What did I care? He was dead. I had killed him, and there was nothing left in the world of beauty to watch.

XIV
An instinct stronger than he urged him to move back, knees crawling in the ground and holding his arms still planted on the belly aching, behind him there was not much space, and he seemed to perceive the cold stones of the wall, wet, moss-speckled here and there. Around the night and the desert, where no more singing for some time now.
"Please, do not move-his brother scolded him, good-natured, I might be wrong and cut your pretty little head ... and instead, should be left in that neck for a while '."
He should have, could react and he knew it, Cain, but he seemed strangely fair, an arm in exchange for his life. Perhaps, finally, he stopped feeling indebted.
"... selfish."
"How?" did his sister, interdict, sickle already raised slightly, but Cain curled his lips in what we would call a smile, but not really with it had any similarity.
"I'm a selfish-repeated, almost without looking, always have been. I thought to myself ... to my feelings, my desires, without worrying about yours. What did you want? What was first thought of the day, and what was the last of the evening? -You looked up at him, and the air seemed to tremble for what that intensity- were you feeling? Because that time I kissed you? Because today you are here, yet? Why can not you forget me? "
" You ... you ... "
" I know-Cain continued undaunted, ignoring the surprised expression of the other-I know because I can not forget you & hellip and it is not because I killed you, you're always in my thoughts. It is not because my eternity depends on this, I remember that day as the most of my life. I do not know why I'm telling you ... but ... "
" ... are you ... "
" You do not need to rip the heart-smiled, with a strange innocence, not here nothing more to rip, for some time. "
" ... shut up! "
A blinding light, brighter than a thousand suns and straight into the retina to the brain, and Cain had the absolute certainty of being become blind to their entire world became black and hot, but there were no prosperity, no paradise, in that embrace stritolante. He heard a blast, and something that was taken down beside him, sticking in the ground ... then, a gnawing pain, which ran through the nerves until it crazy and scream, so loud that the larynx would have splashed out of the throat if he could. Yet, those agonizing screams could not hear them: there was only one sound in the air: an intermittent sound, but not rhythmic. Guttural, coming and going, but not as a sob. It was a cross between a sob and a laugh, between a groan and a hymn tune, a sound dysphonia that melted in the light majestic, glorious, but without any protection or softness. Cain closed his eyes and muttered something as the pain left him arsonist, sliding out of the body ... when he fell to the ground, exhausted, no more air into the lungs, opened his eyes and saw only darkness. The thick, dark labyrinth of the night.
There were stars, and there was his brother.
Do not go away. Back ... back ... to me ... answer

XV
... The movement is everything.
This is what I learned, a little 'to time, one day after another: if I stopped moving, for whatever reason, I would be buried by the passage of time, and I would become a fossil, which observe the ages, without doing anything. I could not allow myself to continue that way my life ... and I was moving, according to my feelings and the orders of God I was, again, where I had to be gripping the world with the purification.
could feel my power as a kind of herbicide, and I hated, I was disgusted, but I could not help it ... I thought of him, of course. Always. It was in every gesture and every sound, every step and catastrophe. It was in the fire, was in the stars. Even though I knew nothing but the stars were the eyes of God, and I constantly monitor, even when not seen.
I have a clear memory of the first time I met him, long after that terrible day that had disintegrated both their lives ... I was watching Atlantis, his government benefits that are not worshiping any god, and I knew that sooner or later would come the time to destroy it. The Lord would have demanded. Still, I liked Atlantis: a way of life seemed easy, the other, the peaceful existence of men who wished only to live in peace, there was a purity in their air, I never found anywhere, and that I remember the old days, my childhood, when still There were no clouds in my sky.
watched Atlantis in the night, and saw the stars veiling, and off one at a time: I did not understand why God had stopped looking, and a shiver ran down my spine, between anxiety and pleasure. Perhaps it was the moment of the Apocalypse. I knew that in reality there was no long, long time, but still ... maybe God got tired of the Earth, and decided to call it quits. For a moment, I imagined the gates of hell open wide in front of me, and I was raised: to be a torment to the other, would be a change ... but there was no Hell, by anywhere.
sensed the vibration of an angel, not far away, the feeling that the air grew thinner and lighter, crystalline like a paradise that I had never seen, but I had touched upon speaking with the Lord, sometimes, a creature Angelica was there, but I did not know why, and I turned. I recognized him instantly, even before my brain was able to record its image and send it to the right ... Her hair was shorter and seemed to grow, and he was dressed elegantly opulent elegance that was not fashionable, probably several thousand years before ... and it was simply beautiful as a dream made flesh.
those were the things I noticed at the time, unable to think of something more significant, he approached with a slow and full of expectation, as if savoring a moment waited far too long, and did not want spoil. He ... oh my God, my brother ...
He paused, tilting her head sideways as he always did in the tease, and smiled.
"Good evening, brother."
His voice was still the same, with a melodic accent, and it was ... inexplicable desire that I put him to turn around and run, putting him between me and a universe away.
"You ... you ..."
"... alive? -Ended for me, still smiling, not exactly. I am an angel. "
was obvious, and yet ...
" Angel? "
" Yeah, said in a tone and strange artifacts, and his smile took on a tinge amused, but not at all sympathetic - after you killed me, God has allowed me to choose between eternal life and eternal life in heaven as an angel. I chose the latter. "
" Why? "
I wanted to really know? There was nothing encouraging in its expression in his eyes burned with a savage feeling, or in the way of the angels holding the spear fighters, I looked at him, and he vanished, to reappear in front of a few millimeters from the face . For a moment, I seemed to be affected, as on that day, his lips on mine, so hot from being moved.
"Why, you ask? I'll explain it, brother: to be able to review ... "hissed poisonous, and the final word was accompanied by a killing blow to the sternum that I inflicted, slamming away in a sea of light painful. And I, I was not accustomed to physical pain, it took an infinite time to catch his breath, and an effort will focus on abnormal for him.
What I was approached, crouching beside me, lying on the ground, tried to recover, but he put his hand on his chest, without pressing, but keep lying down with the sheer force of his gaze, through the lens and eyeglass curtain of white hair.
"Stay down, brother-sighed, so slight that I had to strain to understand-I like you, so lying. Are you really inviting ... it's like watching lying in your coffin. "
" Brother ... "
" Yes, brother. I hear you have sworn not to pronounce my name until they die ... I think a good thing-const, standing and looking from above, a glove on the wrist-hiller Let's do this, then: day pronounce my name, I will kill you. Think about it, Cain must have really wanted to die, because there will be no mercy for you ... and I will put to the test: your desire must overcome the desire to die now that still has for me. How many thousands of years must we wait? "
His every word was a lash to the heart, and even now is this: I listened to him without believing in what he said, even though I knew it was, again, a perfect truth her.
knew everything. He always knew everything about me, as if I read into it.
"My death is the Apocalypse, the end of mankind! No matter what I want ... I can not decide for everyone else ... "
One click, and I found myself pinned to the ground by his spear, stuck next to my shoulder through the fabric of the jacket and the ground; no longer smiling.
"The others? Should I care anything about the men? "
" You're an angel! "
" And you said-a fratricidal, pulling the weapon-Who is most paradoxical, you or me? "Not
let me answer, because he turned and disappeared without leaving behind anything, I was sure he'd be back, soon ... but all I could prove it was a joy to have revised its obscene eyes, and heard his voice. He was alive, somehow. Still existed, somewhere in the universe ... he was cut off. And for me, was more than enough.

What Does Swollen Ankles Indicate

Ga lwa y G irl

of Cerridwen

A Ceci simply for everything. From your
Galway Girl. For
Ely, to be able to always beside myself. A
nacchan for Under a tree of wishes: not thank you enough.
A Nemo From Mars, as promised .

I

[Source: Google Images]

Chapter Rating: vm 18

And I ask you now, tell me what would you do If her hair Was
her eyes Were black and blue.
So I Took her hand and I Gave her a twirl And I lost
my heart to a Galway girl.
[Steve Earle & Sharon Shannon - Galway Girl]

Galway, March 17, at 0:53

"... and give me enough That of rare old stuff that's brewed near Galway Bay! "
A round of applause greeted the last notes of the song, and the four young musicians bow. "Thank you! Thank you all! 'Screams the singer, overlooking the laughter and the cheerful chatter of the customers of the pub, and looks around. "Now, folks, we need a girl in your midst, but not any of them. "He feels the wait fun meandering between people now quieter. "Because this is not any song. At last, the object of his research catch his attention: a dozen boys occupies one of the tables in the corner, and each sees a face with delicate features, caressed by the gentle cloak of black silk of her hair. Approaches brushing his shoulder, and she pulled it to his lips once again holding the mug from which he was drinking. "I would I, the girl you're looking for? She asks, laughing, but nodded his silent, somewhat incredulously. "Me?! "

" Yes, your hair blacks and two beautiful blue eyes. 're Perfect. "He smiles, holding out his hand. "No ... I do not know if ..." He bites his lip, undecided, ignoring comments from friends who try to convince her. He always hated those situations, especially if you include the title role. "Oh, come on,'re not obliged to sing! "Seeing the look on his face does not change, he gives up:" Okay, if you get an offer around you and all your friends. Do it for them! 'Ride, followed by all the guys sitting at the table.
"Come on, Saoirse! Think of us! "Urges the girl at his side, and echoed by others, until Saoirse, defeat, he stands up. "Only for you! 'Growls, trying to hide a laugh that is struggling to blossom on his lips' Remember this! "
" This song "resumed the young voice of a new high," about a girl. Suddenly a goffissimo bow to Saoirse, "a girl with hair from the eyes of blacks and ocean color, and above all, a girl from Galway, our beloved Galway! "As the public takes to applaud and shout, bends down to talk about the girl's ear:" And if you're in Galway, do not tell! "With a wink, picks up the microphone and makes a sign to his friends:" One, two, three, four! "For the first chords of the guitar, everyone recognizes the song and began to beat time with his hands. "Aye! Well, I Took a stroll on the old long walk of a day-y-y-ay-ay ... I met a little girl and we stopped to talk Of a fine soft day-y-y-ay-ay ... "It takes Saoirse's hand dragging it to a stunted pirouette, while she, without even meaning to, joins the chorus: "And I ask you now, tell me what would you do if her hair Was her eyes Were black and blue ... 'cause I've traveled around, I've been all over this world, But I is not never seen nothin 'like a Galway girl! "
With that part of herself that stubbornly continues to repeat to hate that situation, is convinced that it is the fault of the beer if you're leaving now drag and dance with the singer, not even push him away when he approached the microphone closer to his lips to sing in chorus.
"I know I Took her hand and I Gave her a twirl, and I lost my heart to a Galway girl! Happy St. Patrick's Day, Galway! He bowed to the public side by side cheering them, they are all a standing ovation, many rise up the glasses in their direction, and Saorise decides to silence for a time his rational part that is probably already very ; drunk a few hours.
shakes his head, laughing as he watches his friends jump in enthusiastic shouts. After all, is the evening of St. Patrick. And that evening, it can also be simply a girl from Galway.
"Hey, Galway Girl, I like Guinness, Smithwick's or something? Asks the boy take her back to the table, "Guinness, thank you! "She smiles, as he rised next friend, that embraces a laugh:" But you were really you? "
" Do not ask me, Dana ... I would not be too sure! 'Replies, a little' confused, with the blank stare. Yes, it's probably really drunk already.
"Here, you! "The singer supports the tray on the table, then turns back to Saoirse:" But tell me one thing: you're really in Galway? "
" Yes, yes, "she laughs, - also want an identity card? "
" Oh, no, trust me! Good evening, guys ... and thanks! "Squeezes the eye and then go back to the center of the room, and immediately joyful notes of another piece already fill the air swells the music of laughter.
Dana does not know if it's the fault of alcohol, but can not help but notice that the blue eyes that night Saoirse is deeper than usual. It shines.

"Whoever finishes first pay the next round, who finishes last is for penance! "Inprovvisamente announces one of the boys, and now stands a chorus of voices and laughter.
"This is already the sixth, Dean ..." the timid protests from the girl sitting next to him is not at all convincing, and the Dean silences, laughing: "But do not say shit, it's St. Patrick's Day! If you do not get drunk tonight, when you do it? "
" You said penance? "Dana seems to wake up just at that moment from a long daydream. "Welcome among us! Yes, that penance ... "
" Uhm ... "When they saw the flash of amused malice in the eyes of a friend, she grabs the mug and takes a long sip. He does not want to get between the clutches of Dean, definitely not too late ....
Not even five minutes later, Dana is the only one that has not finished yet: "I give up, are the latest. What should I do, Dean? "She stares at him with a look that should pity in its intentions, but something is wrong ..." Hey, Dean, stand still! Why are you moving? "
's friend before you laugh, team with affectionate condescension:" Honey, I'm afraid ... very firmly that you are drunk! "
" I Drunk? Never! "
But his language does not obey to commands, kneading all the words and the world turn, turn ...
Shit, maybe he's right.
Trying to keep a glimmer of lucidity, speak again: "Um, so what? Have you decided what to get me to do? "
" Wait, we need to contact us ... "Dean and those sitting around taking a confabulation, giggling occasionally, until suddenly all burst out laughing not loud. "Ok, you have decided ... kiss Saoirse! " he announced, turning to Dana with a smile.
"Kissing Saoirse? "
" Mh-mh. "He nods, sounding innocent," Think of a little revenge for the ten years that have passed to piss us all with the rights of homosexuals ... "
" Asshole. "Dana mutters between his teeth. He elegantly put their backs to the wall, and the faint glimmer of lucidity that remains is still so vague that it could not understand him: escape would show glaring inconsistencies in the last decade of his life.
" Oh, okay. "He has no reason, after all, to reject: it is March 17, and none of them can boast the apex of sobriety. "Provided that Saoirse Not Giving a slap ..."
The girl, who was laughing alone abstruse for whatever reason, it is time, "Talk to me? "
Dana moans," Do not tell me that you have not heard anything about what we are saying ... "
" No, I do ...? "She stammered, unable to stop laughing.
Perfect. Saoirse is much more drunk than she.
'Well, Dana has lost a bet and penitence that we have decided to kiss you. "Dean misunderstands staring Saoirse and hesitates, fearing to upset her. "Mh ... just die, of course. "His expression did not change: it seems to contemplate the void. "Ok, if you do not patience, we will find something else to do them ..."
"No, no," Saoirse shooting of a sudden, "Okay. What will "mutters, shaking his shoulders.
"Ah-ah, great! "He exults, laughing, and suddenly everyone is silent, staring at the two girls waiting for one of them moves.
Dana grabs the jug, completely drained. The pounding of his heart is noisy now hangs among his friends the silence, although the environment is anything but serene.
senses throbbing waiting, and it is sure that his friends expect at any moment you pull back.
But promises must be kept, especially those close after six pints of Guinness. Staring
his eyes in those of Saoirse, takes her face in her hands and brings him closer to her until there are only a few inches apart. Remain motionless, looking at for some time. Saoirse Then he smiles, encouragingly, as if to give her permission, and then closes her eyes and rests on that of his lips, gently. His heart leaped. It is almost certain that he had never tried before, in nineteen years of life, a sensation like that, but then at that time is also sufficiently drunk enough to be certain not to remember the more his nineteen years of life.
Savor this moment, undecided. The still bright side of herself tells her that now might be detached, in the end was happy and Dean kept his promise. But the part about her still bright voice too faint to be heard in a pub in Galway, the night of St. Patrick.
As if he read my mind, Saoirse at that time barely moving his lips, opening, and she took the initiative slightly caressing his tongue with those of the other, to meet a rush and surrenders, rocked from that river of intoxicating sensations.
Neither has ever known how much time has passed, but suddenly a chorus of voices makes its way into the minds of the two: "Hey, girls? You may as well stop now, eh? As penance is enough ... girls? "Sean laughs, shaking his head would have been better to stop them before they decided to go to other shores ..." Dana! Saoirse! 'Calls, more loudly.
"Eh? "Dana is part from what little annoyed enough to turn to Sean, with the intention of blatantly insulting, when in a flash, he sees the situation.
"Oh ..." he stammered, bursting into wild laughter, immediately followed by all. Saoirse is abandoned on her shoulder, her body shaking convulsively from too much laughing.
"Um ..." a girl sitting in front of Saoirse trying to recover: "Since I was the first to finish, as promised I offer the last lap ... I would say that we need at all! "

" Girls, you need a lift? "
" Yes, yes, thank you! "Dana gets unsteady and does not end miserably on the ground only because manages to grab his arm in time to Saoirse. "Oh, I'm not even ..." you live, succumbing to a bout of laughter, "... the walk-in! "
" Oh, come on! It does not hold seven rounds of Guinness? "
" You shut up! "Saoirse mutters," you can not understand, you have only made four! "
" Of course, otherwise how could you go home? A bit 'of gratitude, at least, I sacrificed my St. Patrick's Night for you! "
" Oh, you got it, Saoirse? What a Knight! "
Sean shakes his head, guiding them outside the room without even stop laughing for a while.
"Bring cash to my house, Sean, Saoirse asleep on me tonight! "
" Okay, "Sean smiled, changing gears," But please, have pity, let alone my poor battered ears! "
" Do not tease, Sean, our voices would be worthy of singing a duet with Ronnie Drew! "
" Mh ... agree, then try to propose your ... er, innovative version of the Wild Rover ... "
" certainly will say so! "
Sean decides that there is no need to remind them that Ronnie Drew died in 2008.
"Of course, Dana, meanwhile, believe it ... but go down, we arrived," announces approaching next to the sidewalk.
"Thank you, darling! "Saoirse's print a kiss on the cheek and down trying not to lose his balance.
"Of nothing," he smiles, turning the engine, "And girls ... sleep tonight! "Throw them a look alluring, but the confusion on their faces is obvious. Can they be so drunk as to have forgotten that less than two hours before they were to make an exhibition in a pub in the middle?
"Good night! "Concludes giggling, and walks away slowly along the avenue, the headlights cut through the misty darkness.

Dana closes the door behind them, and slipped down the side of the entrance: "What a wonderful evening! "Lift up your eyes on the environment, that is staring at the wall with eyes apparently driven by an intense interest. "I'm sleepy. "Mutters with a yawn.
"An-go to bed, then. "Dana gets up and takes her hand, until come staggering up to the bedroom.
"I've been a wild rover for many years ..." takes all of a sudden Saoirse, circling the room in a precarious balance.
"I Spent all me money on whiskey and beer ..." Dana answered, taking her hands and dragging it to a goffissimo dance.
"But now I'm returning with gold in great store ... "Spin
, convulsive laughter.
"And I never will play the wild rover no m ..." A second pirouette
Saoirse falters and then finally lost the balance on the bed shaking with a shriek and dragging along her friend.
"mooooore ... nooo! "
Their bodies laced quiver with laughter unstoppable. Saoirse's hair touching the face and neck of Dana, blacks as a night sky lit only by the glow of his eyes - two gems from the deep, dark color of the ocean. Dana is silent. Perceives the jump of the body of Saoirse, who is still laughing all of a sudden it feels with every fiber of his flesh. Without being fully aware, as if to confirm that contact, wanting to be sure, until it moves slightly touch their breasts are not under the thick wool sweaters, and feels her friend to hold your breath, holding back the last laugh.
Like a distant shadow of evasive lucidity, hear his voice whispering: "What aspects of the written invitation? "
And immediately, while his heart beats faster, you know that that last soft edge to it escaped.
"Happy St. Patrick's Day ..." he murmurs, his lips rushing with impetuous tenderness, and mild burning at the same time, and then starts to play with his tongue, while a part of herself, that is, it is surprising effect on the taste of her lips Saoirse, play biting and touching her.
separated for a moment, when the need for oxygen becomes unsustainable, it is almost painful.
Immediately, Saoirse draws him back to Dana's face, taking with her tongue to trace the outline of her mouth, then slide down with a studied slow - the other does not take long to find it exasperating. When he finally reaches to touch the soft skin of the neck, unable to suppress a groan, and Dana feel her lips stretch into a smile. But the plush Saoirse has become an obstacle, and all of a sudden stop, caught a fleeting flash of awareness. Immediately deleted from the now more hoarse voice of the beloved: "No ... more, please ..." ;
"What ... are ... doing? 'Manages to stutter in response, while laying kisses on her skin glowing light. " N-I do not know ... but it does not matter ... the only thing I know is that if you stop dying ... "
Fight with the sweatshirt until they manage to place, and then out of the way also to Dana, with an ardor he would never have imagined, and she starts to kiss her, takes possession of every bit of skin that will achieve, and with trembling hands impatiently fiddling with the buttons of her blouse, which ends quickly with the company to make its to pile on the floor. Saoirse
This time it took the initiative, and hugs to hear again brushing against their breasts. At that touch, Dana receives a heat rash flares up and invade their bodies, seized with a sudden and disruptive urgency, leaving a trail of kisses on the chest of Saoirse, until you find the fabric of the bra. "Can I? "Whispers in the ocean of his eyes. "No, you can not ... you! 'She said, guiding his hands to unfasten the hook. "You too ..." murmured the other, asking it to do the same, and then leans back on her, following an instinct never discovered before. Saoirse groans when laying a kiss on the pink flesh, promoted, Dana gets to play alternating small bites to small strokes until he feels almost screaming with pleasure. So nasty, down to the navel, teasing, while the parade is the skirt pantyhose.
mind clouded by alcohol and excitement, it lingers for a moment with her lips only inches from the strap of the slip. "Dana ..." Saoirse able to pant, trembling, "Do not stop now! "
He stopped thinking long before and no, it would not stop. Neither would survive a while longer.
first touched with his lips and then with his tongue, letting her moans the guide to find the most sensitive spot, and then replaces his fingers to the language, the faster and then slower again and again, while the cries of the Saoirse show that has already been eclipsed its limit, "Dana, please ..." is to beg the other, while wishing that the sublime perfection remains eternal, bright and vibrant.
smiles on his lips and adjusting the pace to hers, and then increased again, until he hears coming from his fingers - eyes closed, her lips still joined, the breath broken.
And the silence of a sudden the winds calm, punctuated only by the beats as the most placid of their hearts.
Their lips meet again, very gently, while Dana reached out to grab a blanket, wrapping both.
There is perfection? Only a few hours before
would laugh, skeptical, without thinking even for an instant response.
But now ... now, when they close their eyes and their bodies are still tied, a doubt insinuates itself, silent, serene, with the crack that conviction. And stays there.
Maybe it's almost a certainty.

Wiring Diagram For Motion Sensor

Galway Galway Girl 1 Girl

of Cerridwen

Maybe one day they'll laugh, telling some friends that night transformed by time into nothing more than a funny anecdote of life, hilarious result of pints too much of a St. Patrick's Day - maybe one day they'll laugh, oblivious to the feelings trapped under the skin, trapped in the soft mist speckled silver Galway Bay. Maybe one day they'll laugh ...

No.
can not afford. She knows that her eyes shine when she thinks she knows why same fire that burns in every single star.
Galway, Ireland.
March 17.

Genre: romantic, erotic, comedy, yuri (femslash)
Rating: vm 18 Warnings: lemon Complete : no

Note: Galway Girl arose primarily as an experiment. So long cherished the idea of writing NC17 yuri story, because I love them with all of myself, and the first chapter of this story was initially conceived as a one-shot PWP. Saoirse
Then Dana and took life in my hands - yes, they have been to do everything. * Rolls * I have * forced * to give them a future, to give their three-dimensional photography. They made me mad, every time, but succeeded in the business. There is a lot of me in each of them - there's a lot about myself that I would, I think. Maybe that's why I left that they would decide the fate of this story.
So three chapters, which I hope to be able to remove all traces of PWP, although mentioned, because otherwise it would be like if the character is a shadow of themselves, and it was certainly not mine or - especially - their intention.
The setting is pretty obvious - they are no longer able to write anything that does not concern my beloved Ireland. In this regard, I must mention the wonderful film PS I Love You , which inspired me a lot.
The wonderful image is the work instead of my best friend, to whom the story is dedicated course.
Thanks to those who read it.

Index of chapters

♣ One
♣ Two
♣ Three

Games Where U Can Get Preganant

Feather boa - NUDE Have you seen my feathers?

P I U M E D I B O A
of Roh & Fairy



Chapter 6
Nude - Have You Seen My Feathers?

(Rating of chapter for All)

bets Hands on hips - look inquisitive - the mother of the twins is around along the perimeter of the room sniffing the air like a bloodhound.
is Sunday - Sunday afternoon - and only you are at home. Her husband
.
And Dylan, of course, that as the script was caught by a sudden attack of fever.
"I do not understand ..." he muttered, puzzled by launching the son look suspicious. "But I cleaned up the other day, before your brother went away ..."
"will be the trainers of Chris ..." he ventured, distracted.
But she shakes her hand, upset.
"Dee," replies, lifting the blanket to peek under the bed. "As far as the shoes of you guys can get to be really pestilential I doubt that Chris has a rotten whale, instead of feet. This is just the smell of rotten fish, do not want to recognize it? "
" Marco, now ... "
"Marcio, I say!"
"Hm ..."
Silence.
"You believe that the fish become toxic if it is fresh and cool?" He asks cautiously.
Doubt had come, in fact, perhaps too early to pass at the fish could not have been exactly a good idea, but did not have much choice. Officially has a fever, for that matter. From Friday afternoon.
and could not risk running out of raw material for its aphrodisiac dinner - dinner aphrodisiac that without the whole plan would go ahead. I had to buy shrimp
Thursday then. Hide them with care.
Among other things, is almost sure I heard it move during the first night.
course, could not sleep.
"Oh my goodness, but what is this stuff ?!?!"
his mother's cry startles suddenly, brutally detaching it from his thoughts.
"Dee, but shrimp! Damaged! "Feels screaming in horror.
blinked, then - straightens his back.
Intrigued, he turns in the direction of all that noise.
Have you heard about often, Dylan, perceptual gaps: they are small black-out that the brain active at a particular moment - in response to a shock, often, or in front of a reality too traumatic.
He never thought it could happen one time just before X, though. Just when the plan seemed unassailable - when half the work was already done. When there was so little, to the fateful dinner. Just a few hours.
Glued to swallow.
I can not believe - can not accept it.
never survive, such a catastrophe.
"decaying" screams while her mother, beside herself. "A full wrap shrimp rotting in the custody of your guitar, Dylan! "
But he is bleached - the blood fell to the feet.
"I think Ash has forgotten them ..." fuming, in a faint voice.
"Ash?"
"Now that I think, were a birthday gift for Cathy ..."
Pause.
"You know how it is done, Ash," resumed, Aton. "He has too good taste in these things ..."
Nor is it convincing, if only to realize it, but can not find the strength to react.
I can not think of anything but his dinner - the key part of his plan.
Deleted.
He had also prepared the candles - the music. Pepper, ginger and chilli and paprika.
is about to burst into tears.
"All right, all right!" He exclaims, before her mother translated into words, the rise of the eyebrow. "Crayfish are mine, I have hidden there because I wanted to make a surprise dinner for Chris! To say goodbye, you know? The Last Supper! Cooked by me, leave a memory! Something I could not forget that ... "
You press his hand over her mouth, choking a sob.
And he sent away his brother, therefore, sent him to spend a weekend alone. He left after
worried about his fever - he cheated. And betrayed.
at all.
Despite the euphoria of the plan, to Dylan's last days were not easy at all: Ash shortness of breath, night, and there was the smell of her hair on the pillow. There was
his image printed in dreams - that he went down one by one the steps of the house, which turned one last time before getting into a car with his black bag. Before leaving a fearful silence behind him. And there was anxiety
thin - undefined - to weave the plot of every moment without him. To blur the edges as if time flowed differently. Slower at times. Or faster. But never in a family, without ever being collected.
actually wanted to tell his brother to tell him of the plan and also has a little 'fear. Chris's watch that makes you want to do sinful things of the world, at times, and in others only to run away. Let it go, maybe. Stay
child.
But now - now that his mother is standing there in front, with that box of shrimp smelly hands - Ash wants to be by his side just to see him turn his eyes to heaven. To be sure that the world is collapsing as it seems, after all, because he is always puffing. What shrugs, engaging the ear to ear.
With shaggy hair. With its mournful shirts.
"Yes, well ... The fact that Chris would have remembered a long time, your dinner, no doubt about it ..." she sighs, resigned, and Dylan can not help but notice what looks like her brother at times.
"I miss Ash," he cries, depressed. "And I have a fever ..."
"I'm already softened, Dee," she says, sitting on the edge of the bed. "It is not necessary that you commit so much."
"And tomorrow he'll go away too Chris ... And my shrimp are rotten ..."
"You can always cook something else, you think?" ;
"No ..."
"Why not?"
A sigh.
"I am red."
"Shrimp?" Application for her mother, raising an eyebrow. "So what?"
"They remind me ..." He exhaled, glancing heartbreaking.
And he did not believe it would be so easy - he never thought of being able to cope with the disaster that cool.
Half an hour later, perched on the kitchen bench, noted with delight the window of the microwave into which the lobster has remedied that his mother is slowly turning and considers that he should have thought from the start, the freezer at home.
It would save a lot of trouble. And he could spend the money to buy the new shrimp glaze color pink I love you I .
The truth is always too much to worry - too much responsibility for a boy: as now, that has to be careful at the same time the beep of the oven, the pot of water to the pan of sauce.
the moisturizing mask that has been smeared on her face.
"OddioOddioOddio! The six and a half! "Exclaims, alarmed, jumping off the stool with a single leap.
Hold on for twenty minutes to get your skin smooth and silky , was written on the packaging of the cream. And who knows how to count exactly how many minutes have elapsed since he spread, Dylan, but that she had already had to remove a piece that's almost guaranteed.
Leaning to observe the own reflection in the bathroom mirror, it gives a disgusted grimace.
"Bleah. This sucks ... "he muttered, passing his fingers carefully on the findings of the cheekbones.
The mask has formed a greenish film on the skin - a gelatinous stuff that seems to mud. O Light toad.
Blood elf.
For a moment - at once - the panic seems to dig the bowels.
"Gone away!" Dylan began, hurrying to snatch the first residue from the face of that green stuff.
The alarm of the microwave stops his hand in the air, though.
widened his eyes, spun around toward the door.
"Oh crap! The lobster! "
think the cream after - decide:" Now the most urgent thing is to remove the beast from the oven and quickly push it into the pot. The water is already boiling, for that matter.
And the sauce has become black. Better off. Already smells a bit 'burnt ...
"Ahhhhhhhhhh !!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Jumping back, clinging to the edge of the table with both hands, had not realized how lobster was awesome until it's fully thawed appeared on the plate of the oven, with those of his sprawling legs. Con quelle antenne telescopiche - con tutte quelle protuberanze. Quell'aspetto preistorico.
Rabbrividisce.
A tentoni, allunga cautamente il braccio per raggiungere la forchetta: trattiene il fiato, avanza di un passo. Serrando gli occhi, tenta di arpionare l'orrido crostaceo.
"OddioOddio!" esclama, scontrandosi con la corazza del guscio.
Ha la pelle d'oca.
Per calmarsi, è costretto a passeggiare su e giù per la cucina, respirando profondamente.
Lanciando rapide occhiate in giro, intanto, alla disperata ricerca di ispirazione.
Forse potrebbe agganciarla con gli alari del caminetto - se in casa ci fosse un caminetto.
O potrebbe gettarle on a towel. Two. Three.
Take it while it's nice covered by sponge - completely invisible.
"Mamma !!!!!!!!!!!" screams instead, pressing his back against the wall.
"Mammaaaaaaa !!!!!!!!!!" insisted desperately.
When his mother finally enters the room, the air has alarmed those who expected the most terrible disasters. Yet nothing seems to have prepared for the vision of a child smeared against the wall, his face covered with green jelly. Eyes wide - spectrum.
jumped, lets out a strangled groan.
"Dylan!" Exclaims clutching her hand over her mouth.
But he shakes his head, raises his hand.
Trembling slightly, indicating with his finger the door of the microwave.
"The lobster ..." stutters. "I do not know how to put it in the pot ..."
"Do not you realize you're burning the sauce, I do not see the smoke??" She snapped, rushing to turn off the stove.
He always had a great ability to react, his mother. Dylan must admit.
"And what you put on your face, what is that?!?"
"Do you think I cooked too much?" Murmurs he dare to stretch their necks to peer into the pan.
"Dee, do not tell me is my mask of cucumber! That disappeared two years ago - the one you swore not stealing! "
" I have not stolen it, "comes the answer, cautious. "I only borrowed. Just give me the pocket money buys you, I promise ... "
" But you realize that a piece will be expired by now? "
" Expired like? "
" Go at once to get that stuff from face, do me a favor! "
"I put the lobster in the pot?"
other side of the kitchen, she sighs.
And while the lobster floats at last in an embroidery of bubbles and steam Dylan draws near again to the bathroom mirror - again usual grin wrinkled his nose in disgust.
again is going to wash my face - stretching your hands under running water.
again - suddenly - it freezes in mid-gesture.
"Seven!" He exclaims, turning the wrist for a better look at the clock. "The seven are the seven already!"
is very late - Chris will be at home between less than an hour and he still has to wear a dress. Must stop to make dinner, prepare the table. Light candles and give the enamel on the nails and straightening hair. Make-up.
But above all - above all! - That we must hasten to implement the most difficult part of the plan: get rid of her parents.
is that the biggest unknown factor, the aspect that has worked with most attention when it came to plan the details. In
quickly left the bathroom to return again in the kitchen, the lobster is still boiling, Dylan has not the slightest idea whether it is already cooked or not. What is certain is he did not grant it more time - not now. Without hesitation
grabs the colander, the system in the sink. He closes his eyes.
"Okay," he says to himself. Takes breath. Then
down water and lobster in the sieve, holding a thrill, groping for a tray. And that's it! When the cilia
reopens chilling crustacean is sitting exactly where it belongs: in the middle of the plate.
With great satisfaction he is watching from a safe distance and thinks that he does not remember ever having done anything as heroic in the whole of her life: dealing with the firm such a monster. For love! If
dinner should not be most of the culinary arts, Chris will certainly be proud of him just for the courage. The dedication.
Sighing, she smiles happily. Step Three
finished, type the phone, setting the number of Babs. "Start phase four."
is delighted.
trotting happily through the apartment to reach the living-peeping through the door, looks around. Find the figure of his mother sitting on the couch.
"Dad where is it?" Question, weird.
From afar, she lifts her head from the book he is reading.
"Dylan!" exclaimed, straightening his back. "I told you to remove that crap from my face!"
"Dad?" He repeats, without badarle.
"It's going to take a shower, said the ashes and will put you to bed. Had a headache ... "
" Oh, good! "
" Well? "
" Well ... I mean going to bed, so he rests ... "he tries to remedy, coughing. "You've got a bad wax, anyway ..."
"Thank you," replied the woman.
"You have a scary face ..."
calmly, she raises an eyebrow. "We want to talk about the your face, Dee?"
Dylan shrugs.
"But I think it's just fatigue. Maybe a little 'stress. You know you need? "
" Someone who adopts my son? "
" No! "Snorts Dylan, annoyed. "A nice hot coffee!"
"Where's the catch?"
"What trick?"
turning his eyes to heaven, she sighs.
"Go for the hot coffee, then," grants, while Dylan is already starting satisfied to the kitchen. "But do not poison him, okay?" He adds, and he blocks the steps at once.
remains motionless for a moment, not even breathe.
swallows.
"But no, can not suspect anything ..." he repeats to himself, pressing his hand on his pants pocket. "It was just a joke of his. Everything is normal ... "
The bottle is still there safe, and he returns to catch my breath.
clarity should be maintained and not be impressed by coincidences.
Everything is going well at the end - there is no rational reason to worry.
Now prepare the coffee, it will bring a cup to her. A cup to his father. Wearing clothes stolen from the closet the runaway's mother Candy, light the candles. It will finish the lobster season ...
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Sitting at the kitchen table, the father of Dylan startled as if by a pin point sharp.
Nutcracker in his hand shooting with force - the lobster claw fly on the refrigerator.
He screams in turn, raising his eyes on the face of the child.
Sky Dylan, you made me afraid! "Exclaimed breathlessly. "What's wrong on the face??"
"My lobster !!!!!!!" he moans, holding both hands over her mouth. "You ate my lobster!"
"your lobster?"
Interdict, the man looks at the plate.
"I had my dinner ..."
"Do not was your dinner, the dinner was Chris ... "Dylan yelled, furious. "I had cooked myself! For him! "
" Oh, really? "
Silence.
"I had come good, however," considers the other, while his wife appears in the doorway of the kitchen. "Maybe just a little 'rough ..."
"What's going on, what have to yell like that?"
"My lobster!" Dylan does not seem able to say the least. "He ate my lobster, it ate all!"
"No, on ..." Disappointed, the man points to the pot. "The legs are left ... and even a claw ..."
"Mammaaaaaaaaaaaa !!!!!!!!!!!!!"
" Play Dee, your father has not done on purpose, " she sighs, throwing a dirty look in the direction of her husband. "Unfortunately it happened, these things happen. We do it this way: you go to wash my face now and in the meantime I'll cook something for dinner, okay? "
" But something what?? "He moans. "I do not we have more crustaceans, and I explained that I need something red! "
" A salad of carrot? "dares his father. But Dylan
screaming, hysterical, railing against the parents to push them both out of the room.
closes the door, then - he drops his chair.
Traps tears, looking around with a troubled countenance.
Inside the pot that had the hot sauce has thickened so lovingly prepared in dozens of terrible lumps blacks and lobster, amputated of its prehistoric every bump, lying belly up on the edge of the tray with the bowels dug. The claws cut off - its tail twisted. Planted the knife on the head, at eye level.
carnage.
"My dinner ..." he muttered, unable to console themselves. "You can not ..."
slowly stretches his hand toward the plate: gathers the legs of the animal in complete silence, aligning them one by one as if it were precious relics to be saved. It does the same thing with the tail - with the antennas. The claw of the only surviving fragment.
It's not the dinner that he was planning to serve, that, but if her father has eaten the flesh eating lobster in touch Chris feet, willy-nilly.
Dylan can not give an aphrodisiac effect of shellfish - not just talk about it.
Resolute, down on the gray bowl of sauce pan - season with plenty of paprika and ginger adds a handful. A thick layer of chili over. Pepe
in quantity.
"At the end is always a lobster," consider wisely while climbing the stairs, carefully balancing the tray in her hands.
Entering the room is always a certain effect, since Ash has started, but after the lit candles can already feel a bit 'better, the room is a mellow glow, warm, and for a moment erotic fantasies take over everything.
Already we can see, draped in silk Candy from the mother, with a red feather boa around his neck and his hand resting gently on the side. Chris
'll be crunching the claws of the lobster, while - maybe half lying on the bed. He
incederà slowly, one step after another to reach. Up to fermarglisi opposite - lower the straps. Dropping the suit on the ground - hear it slip down my spine.
feel his gaze.

on the skin ... "Occavolo!" He exclaims, as soon as the hand that was touching his groin meets the relief of the bottle of sleeping pills.
Quickly, his eyes run to check the clock: the clock is ticking. Must hurry!
again closed in the kitchen, shortly after, wait impatiently while the coffee is ready and try to quantify the dose of medicine that should be paid the cup will have to adjust the weight of the person to fall asleep? There will be a standard requirement?
have no idea.
He only knows that when he went to steal the bottle from the bedside of his mother there were no leaflets, around, and he can not risk that her parents will wake up mid-evening - the most crucial time, perhaps. No way! Better
abound.
Half a bottle should be to protect him from any risks - meditation, satisfied.
Yet, as with the cups in hand across the aisle to get back into the living room, insistent inner voice and begin to repeat inappropriate obscure mantra of loss and misfortune.
if it's dangerous, Dee? whispers one of them, sinuous. If
fell into a coma? rages another.
your fault! Combining
eyebrows angrily in a grimace, he snorts. There were only
scruples of conscience, now! As if he needed more smoothly, as if there were already too many things to worry about!
And if you die?
"Mammaaaaaaaaaa !!!!!!!!!" moans, throwing open the parlor door.
the couch her parents heave in unison.
"Mom ..." coughing Dylan, lowering his voice. "I brought this coffee, you know ..."
glares at his father. Fast. "And to you, here ..."
"Really?" Asks the man, straightening his back. "To digest The Arag ...? "
" You are very kind, Dee, "interrupts the wife, handing a nudge in the ribs. "You then find something else to cook? Are you sure you do not want a hand? "Your mom ...
whispers the voice, full of emotion. What ever you do without your beloved mother, Dee?
"I get along very well alone," he muttered, grimly. "At least this is not the risk that someone devour everything!"
His father clears his throat, embarrassed.
"Here, drink!" Dylan ago, handing the coffee with a gesture, only to meet his eyes - eyes sink a few seconds. Remembering younger half-closed on a book of fairy tales and the voice tells of princes and fairies. White horses. While censors any mention of gnomes - angering Ash.
This is your dad, ago this little voice, any of the two. What you read fairy tales when you were little ...
What did you learn to play guitar ...
And you're addicted!!
"Thanks love," smiles the man, leaning to take the cup.
I called LOVE ...
"So we have peace?" Question, confident. "I've forgiven him?"
"No!" Dylan exclaims, snatching the cup from his hands. The
spills hot coffee on his pants, his father let out a yell. His mother rushes to the rescue of her husband, alarmed.
"I changed my mind, no coffee this time!" He exclaims, with steps across the room angry. "But I warn you," threat from the doorway. "If someone dares interrupt my dinner there'll drink one liter each, a full liter! Without absolutely no scruples, I swear! This is a promise! "
" But it's crazy? "Stammered her father.
His mother shakes her head, resigned.
"I go," Dylan ends then, pointing the finger in their direction. "When Chris arrives, send it on to me. And remember the promise, I strongly recommend it! Something to say? "
Silence.
"Take off the mud from his face, Dee."
"Perfect!" He grunts, disappearing in corridor. So now
must also worry about his parents - snort - as if it was not enough to seduce a man challenging!
Not sure of being able to give their best knowing that those two wandered the house - they are able to break into his room at any moment.
But no, you're wrong! voice spoke cautiously. You know that your have always been discreet
... "Shut up you!" He growls. "Nag"
not even have the strength to send a new message to Candy - has the feeling that whatever faccia potrebbe portargli sfiga. E poi non avrebbe tempo, in ogni caso.
Sono quasi le otto, e lui non ha ancora provato il vestito! Non ha ancora scelto lo smalto!!!
Non c'è tempo da perdere.
Salendo i gradini due alla volta si precipita in camera, chiude la porta, spalanca l'armadio.
Facendosi largo fra le lugubri magliette di Ash, recupera l'abito di seta nascosto dietro i giubbotti.
Gli viene da piangere - gli viene sempre da piangere di fronte alla seta.
Non esiste al mondo nulla di più commovente, per Dylan. Neanche le piume. Niente.
Lascia che le dita scivolino sulla trama liscia del tessuto, incantato, e pensa che darebbe qualunque cosa per potersi sempre vestire so.
But if you always dressed so would not be so excited, now - would not address that point with my heart in my throat. With the excitement that vibrates beneath, like a shiver.
In fact he likes the idea of reserving Chris something so rare and precious.
"Hmmm ..." she sighs, closing his eyes, when the fabric glides over the skin.
He feels very sinful - no one else in the world knows that this is completely naked and holding on to him a very special charm.
The charm of the secrets, in a sense.
of the forbidden.
moistened his lips, slowly approaches the mirror, holding the eyelids tight - focusing on the rub of the fabric along the sides. Along the thighs.
"Okay ..." she whispers.
Piano, opens his eyes.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhh !!!!!!!!!!!"
not expecting it, he remembered he still had that damn face cream cucumber!
The shock is so violent that Dylan jumped backward, stepped on the hem of her dress falls down. Something
tears, something falls on his head. The hair hang up somewhere.
He shouts again, in terror.
"No, the dress !!!!!!!! The dress! "
going to have a panic attack - is to feel bad. Or to burst into tears.
has already started crying, in hindsight.
"The dress, the dress ...." Continued to sob, dazed, while pulling up. While time to assess the damage and discovered a huge tear on the buttocks. Just there.
As a joke!
"The dress ..." he repeated, in tears, unable now to articulate any other word.
Beside himself rushed to the bathroom, turn on the tap. He washes his face, convulsively.
"The dress ..." still sobbing, clutching the towel.
"The dress ..." moans, lifting his head.
"The ves ..." The litany
stops suddenly, he blinked.
brought her face close to the mirror, still flapping her eyelashes.
Tilt the head.
blinked.
And let go of his arms at his sides, then - you drag it back into the room.
slowly past the wine, lobster legs, the bed. You pass the yellow enamel
Pants on fire and the color a bit Flit. What color I'm not Really a Waitress - which had nearly chosen.
Exceeds the rubble of his plan of seduction, the absence of his brother, the soft light of candles.
The feather boa.
It transcends everything. When
crouches in the shadow end of the room is only around him - Dylan holds the knees in his arms and buries his face in his matted hair.
skin smooth as silk - the label said the cream.
Her face is completely ruined, however, punctuated by dozens of red spots.
disfigured forever.
Nor is it yet another failure of his plan to make that knowledge so heartbreaking - is the certainty almost absolute that no one will ever look at him let alone have sex with him. Do not you imagine the look of the people, or one of his companions. To Chris. You
Ash, especially - lost their similarity.
The foundation of the world who seem to waver, the reference points confused. The sense of loss, paralyzing.
Terror.
"Dee?"
Nor has the strength to wipe his eyes when Chris enters the room - not even move.
In a sense it's like anything concern him only marginally, now, as if everything happening on a plane too far away.
There is silence around, and the candlelight is shielded from the hair. The face is hidden against her knees, motionless.
"Dee ..." repeated the other, cautiously.
But he remains firm - continues to cry quietly. No noise.
has the feeling that any sound could only make the disaster more real - like when he was small and curled up under the covers for fear of the dark, without even finding the courage to breathe.
do not hear much grown since then - just a little 'more lost, perhaps. Inadequate.
And the voice of Chris does not help, because Dylan does not recall having ever heard in a modulated tone so sweet. So intimate and friendly.
"What's up, mh?"
is almost a whisper, but the lump in my throat is immediately closer.
Without answering, shaking his head slowly.
"From ..."
Silence.
"It's Ash?" Chris mutters again, running his fingers through his hair.
Dylan bites a shiver through his teeth - Tighten the muscles of the shoulders. Take
just back him when he slipped his hands to the sides of the face.
"Dee?"
would never find the courage to look into his eyes if he had not found his chin between his fingers closed and his face suddenly raised - discovered by the hair.
not expecting it - not because he opposed the resistance.
"No, do not look!" Exclaims, trying to break free from the socket. "Do not look do not look!"
"But ..." Before him, Chris seems to hold back a laugh. "I know you've done that, Dee?"
curled against the wall, he sinks his teeth into the lip.
"I have a full face ... ..." A sob - strangled. "Of red bubbles ... "ends in despair. "I know you've seen ..." Pause. "I do not want your pity ..."
"What ... Pity? Dee, you have the nose a little 'flushed! What bubble are you talking about? "
" You must not do, Chris ... "
" But what? "
Silence.
"compassionate telling lies ..." he whispered softly. "There is no need, really ... not ..." Reversing his eyes to heaven, the other pulls on their feet.
"God, if you are dramatic ... Have you looked in the mirror, at least, before you start crying your beauty faded?"
"No, Chris!" Is now the cry, heartbreaking. "Please, I can not do it, not me ..."
blinked, Dylan shuts abruptly.
There are two figures, the reflection of the glass in front of which it is pushing his friend, a boy almost blond, very attractive, sufficiently amused. Chris, no doubt.
On that there is raining. And a
someone with the sides wrapped in silk - with the straps down, and eyes red from crying. And the hair more tousled than Ash - wildest.

him that he in fact is not recognizable, well dressed, but that is tilting the mirror in front of a face on the surface there seems to be nothing more that look like boils just before red - nothing is too different usual.
There is only the wet trail of tears on her cheeks, and the imprint of the teeth on the lower lip. The light of a relief evident in her eyes. And maybe just a hint of embarrassment, immediately after, while the legs move a half step backwards. While he sketches a slight smile in the direction of Chris, and hair system. And adjusting her dress, quickly.
clears throat.
"Yeah, well ..."
Pause.
"I was joking, anyway ..." stutters. "It's not that I was seriously worried, eh ..."
"Certainly not. Of course. "Amused, the other holds a smile. "It was obvious you were playing."
"playing, that's right ..."
"Exactly."
"Yeah."
"Besides, you also put in costume ..." Chris grins and giggles Dylan in turn, not understanding. Looking around - meeting her reflection in the mirror, and the right shoulder slipped on his arm. The black silk dress. The
dress.
start.
"The dress!" He shouts, eyes wide in a still image of sheer horror.
"The dress !!!!!" again, perhaps for the hundredth time since he set foot in that room.
Suddenly, the connection is chillingly clear: the brute sought to compare her gorgeous sexy dress for a masquerade - a ridiculous caricature third-rate theater!
And maybe it's the weariness of tears, perhaps disappointed by the ultimate failure of his plan.
Maybe it's that Chris has dared to denigrate the silk - sore. Mined land.
But even before the mind can assess the actual need for a full-blown hysterics Dylan has already exploded, is already sinking his hands into his hair. We have already forgotten about the tear down and is walking up and down the room as if to burn the ground. Burn it all.
building, at a safe distance, Chris is watching him curiously.
"How dare you, you bunch of ungrateful and cowardly brute?? As if all the misfortunes of my life does not depend on your aesthetic pathological Neanderthals, as if it was not your fault that I almost disfigured his face! "
calmly friend raises an eyebrow.
"My fault?!?"
"Yours, of course! For those who believe that I have made poached shellfish, what the hell kind of reason that I think is coated cucumbers on my face? "
" I have to say? "A cry
furious - strangled.
"I did it to prepare the damn aphrodisiac dinner, to be irresistible! Why you will decide to look for once, because I wanted to ... "
Silence.
Suddenly, Dylan blushed to the roots of hair.
"wanted?" Question Chris, angelic, stretching his arm to lift the shoulder.
But he does not answer - all of a sudden it's as if the voice had crumpled in her throat.
And most unsettling is that all of a sudden you're realizing that the hand of the other is resting on his shoulder - that this shoulder is bare. What are bare knees, and back, and that the lips are very close to Chris. Just
close.
is starting to feel a bit 'hot.
"I wanted to ..." exhale, lowering his eyes.
"Yes?"
"Well, I wanted to ..." repeated, unable to even finish the sentence this time.
across the screen just chuckles hair - looks at the door. Take a breath, a little 'hard.
"I do not think that women's dress is exactly the best strategy to seduce a gay guy ..." says Chris, making him slowly slip his hand from his shoulder to the neck. He still has that smile
fun on the lips - Dylan almost certain to have found the typical curve before the mind is disconnected from everything. It is certainly not the first time that his friend sinks his fingers through his hair - there seems to be anything too different from usual in that their interaction. And yet ...
"Hm?" Exhales.
Yet thoughts are inexorably collapsing in some unspecified point in the path that the hand of Chris's path to reach the neck and the brain appears to become unable to process any other stimulus than the sound of his voice. The sound and nothing else.
It's like a split net.
mind softened by the tone of voice, body fearfully sensitive. The skin dotted with chills.
cabbage. The
has created over a thousand times that moment, Dylan has always fantasies in a mischievous smile - he pressed the palm of your hand on the groin of the other and then he raised eyebrows by saying something like, "Wow "It is now completely paralyzed
instead.
Maybe because that seems too much to reality - because there is a chance that Chris tried too many times if they come out at any moment with one of his jokes. But more than anything else because all of a sudden the muscles are petrified by fear crowds - only a fear of the intensity of the chills that dot the skin. Or the heat of excitement. At dizzy.
Catching his breath, raises his eyes on his face.
"It's because I'm leaving tomorrow?" I ask this in a whisper. "Last-minute panic, or are you really sure?"
Without even understanding the reason, he blushes.
"Could you ..." He looks down - making instinctively closer. "Could you give me an easier question, please?" She whispers. But Chris shakes
her head, smiling, and he slides his fingers under his chin. The lifts the face, gently - he leans forward. Brush up your lips with his.
And other questions not addressed, for that evening. Fortunately. Why
had asked him anything from that point on, it was also his name, Dylan could hardly have been able to respond.







Sometimes there are lights that create atmosphere, or flavors that evoke memories.
Objects that become symbols.
is strange.
Sitting on a windowsill different in a different house, Dylan meets the rasta in a makeshift tail and thinks that the smell of the glaze has always reminded his fifteen years - the apartment he shared with his parents. The period in which Chris lived with them and that sense of security intact. His childhood, perhaps.
smiles. A
time taking hours to choose a color to spread nails and every choice he brought with him the regret to all those who had to give up accordingly.
Now it has become incredibly easy - in which the enamel is dipping the brush is transparent - did not name - and maybe he only realizes the infinite shades of color that takes on the color of light with certain conditions. With the sun, sometimes in the evening or at sunset.
is a bit 'as a secret.
He has often come to laugh, over the years, thinking back to his unlikely plan of seduction and lobster claws neatly lined up under a thick flow of chilli sauce.
you sure that you have sworn a thousand times to Chris not to tell a soul the matter of dress for women - has threatened him with death if he had dared to reveal to anyone what was nervous that night. Or what has proved awkward.
course the answer has always been a not very reassuring grin - you can be sure that some things never change. Are the cornerstones of your universe, after all - the foundation of your home.
And that's okay. What still
Dylan is unable to locate the exact moment that changed him, though - when exactly it happened that as a teenager and hyperbolic airhead has been transformed in the boy that is now.
Maybe Chris would raise an eyebrow if you tell him that his first time, after time, does not remember much excitement or pleasure, or novelty contact with another body or the taste of kisses. Or tenderness.
recalls clearly curious details, rather like the fact of having him growled at least a dozen times before deciding to let him enter.
Remember that he was convinced that would never be able to sit down later, but that would have started from scratch anyway. He did not care at all.
And if you think back on those moments are his hands that tickle the best picture - not the sensual caress or touch more exciting. Or the intertwining of bodies.
It is a strange thing, memory.

yet ... And yet there is one thing missing in all this system of memories, more or less confused - a curious vacuum that has never been explained. Absolute lack of any pretext. And maybe the answer is right there.
Because there is a feather boa, in memory, to wrap each single moment of his fifteen years was leaning on her shoulders as Ash left for its first weekend alone, was twisted around his neck while he was stealing from the bedside of his sleeping mother.
He was lying on his chest and peered through the holes in the locks - as he slept. In developing imaginative plans of seduction.
And he was still there that night - it is safe - when Chris has touched the lips. Dylan
Then he smiled, tilted his head. Forgot your dress and silk and enamel that he would choose. And he wanted to show the sensuality.
He closed his eyes.
And from that moment, for some reason, there is no feather boas been more.





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