I Have Herpes And A Bad Rash

reunification (deconstruction reconstruction) family

I woke up this morning to go to work as usual: Baba's sleep is so silent for a moment I thought of him.
a moment later I remembered: it arrived yesterday and is sleeping next to me.
rigurgitino of pure happiness!
but it felt to breathe, move, and I dared not stretch a foot, a hand, turn around to look.
I was afraid that my imagination and my wish had finally taken over in my head and that if the fairies were having a great time at the big drunk in my ears.
scared to death! a gust of cold sweat and fever.
but it was there, it's still there, and there will be tonight when I get back from work.
then I discovered that he stood up in the middle of the night and as he went into the kitchen to smoke a cigarette, with that perfect aplomb very Inglese not lose even under the impact of atomic weapons, he asked "but who I am .. domendo ..?".

there is a stress syndrome from reunification (deconstruction reconstruction) family?
a syndrome that afflicts people who spent a year at a distance (or two, three, four, eight ..) seeing maybe once a year or even one.
a syndrome that explains why, from the day of his departure, spesso, troppo spesso, ho avuto la fisica sensazione di scosse di terremoto che erano solo nei miei nervi a fior di pelle, che mi facevano alzare dal letto per controllare che il cielo non mi stesse cadendo sulla testa o appoggiare alla cucina, dove stavo preparando pasta cacio e pepe alla romana, con la sensazione che le ginocchia cedessero?
ma nulla si muoveva a parte il mio spirito compresso. 
perchè per un anno il mio desiderio sessuale si è congelato in un rigidissimo non-pensiero-non-desiderio, nella fredda, terrorizzata, distanza perfino dall'abbraccio di un amico, dalle coccole di un'amica?
perchè a volte è stato così facile riconfortarmi con la mia immagine abituale da single, facile come wearing an old flannel pajamas chess men cutting, wrap in pink shawl and put me in front of the telly to purr myself, as easy as thinking about my future, my everything, easy to forget how to have another family now and no longer, nor only a daughter, nor only a sister, or just a friend.
a syndrome that explains why I've been holding so far, and then I find myself for a moment (fortunately only a moment) into a black hole of terror to the idea that the cocoon of blankets next to me is that only the down rose up to my fights night?

syndrome exists, and it touched me because even in mild reading difficulties were my compared to other people's stories are much more complex and dramatic.
exists and the two lightly today we face and we laugh together, to be drunk together, erasing all of a sudden a year of effort.
but some do not have all this good fortune: the syndrome does exist in different forms and affects, and sometimes destroyed.
exists, but it is not spoken, not in detail, not enough.
I would like to speak it, I would be talking about the shared, before, during and after you learn together, not to regard it as inevitable part and all things considered unimportant in the process of migration, but as something which the State, the society can and must deal with what has to deal with health, housing, safety, language, the process of coexistence and change - that if I would speak of it as a right, the right to suffer for his family split in half like a grapefruit.

there is a right to protection of the family unit, as set out in the Immigration Act (TU art. 28, 29, 30 and 31 paragraph 3, Art. 19, paragraph 2 °; Presidential Decree 394/1999 art. 6, 28 ) .
there are too many decisions that disregard contrary, there are too many holes in the support services, there is a huge lack of cultural empathy and solidarity with the men, women and children who live far away and can not join a weekend and so a no.
there are families that these are real and even if they do not live in the same place, nor in the same city, nor in the same country and sometimes even the same continent.
there are families for which the State claims the right to determine who should not be, not on its territory, as if "the state" were monstrous entity with its own life independent of its ghostly citizens.
are mourning that nobody sees, because nobody sees, because they lived at a distance.

distance exists, and it hurts, worn out, digs, furrows, and knots affect nerves, tendons, pulled muscles and weaves, takes your breath away and the will to live.
talk about it, perhaps, will make it a bit 'less icy and sharp, Who knows?

Record Propellerhead Dongle Emulator

My name Ibou, Makhtar, Bassirou, Ousseynou ...

'm the tall one, as massive as a marble column that blocks the passage at the local, that are as thin as a reed, in light Armani suit and glasses, always charming ... and indeed, are roly-poly with the eyes smart and well-kept hands, everybody's friend, and what are looking a bit 'dumb, all muscle, very dark black, looked grim.

I Corso Como in the bouncer, I have the best job you could want to make money, who wants to enter must be my friend and my friend it's about money, who wants to know ask me, who goes in search of gossip comes to me, who wants to live the night must necessarily pass by me - are not powerful .. I know .. I have no money ...

I have all the women I want.

All bouncers, in Corso Como are Senegalese.

if steps not recognize me there, we all look the same at first glance and it's okay, what matters is not your first glance, but ours.

My dream was to get married and have a family, a family of Europe, a European wife, I find it very elegant, the German - but I do not know why after a couple of years of living together is always out of something wrong: the final did not want to get married and did not want children, a particular bureaucratic insignificant, he said, but I do not see the sense of a living if you do not get married at some point.

So I left.

I went back to live alone, my house is well appointed with trendy style learned from a lot of friends, work at night, rest in the morning, some commission, a book, a movie at afternoon.

At one point I realized I have forty years, had not realized the dream of European roots, I felt the urge to go a bit 'at home and I took three months of vacation.

As soon as I saw it I felt that there was something special, I can not find the words to tell you what, I never fell in love with a black woman before, even when I came on holiday there were many women I wanted to but I've never desired.

you, I wanted right away.

And she agreed immediately.

We got married after a month and two months we were together.

As these things happen?

I returned to Italy and you know, I immediately asked the family reunion, was in a hurry: awaiting response from the Prefecture for six months, but the times are long, I know, but now I do not know if I have a lot more hurry to start it, maybe it's better if it stays there.

Something has changed.

I tell you this, the first time, when I heard her on the phone, she said things that made me cry, seriously! I'm not kidding, I had never heard before and I was happy, totally happy.

But it changed for some time.

has changed.

Maybe he is in love with another.

Maybe my brother, who often goes to visit her.

The distance is a bad thing.

go to Senegal in February a couple of months, I have already asked for leave, I want to understand what happens, maybe it's just the distance that makes it more difficult and incomprehensible, but I want to see with my own eyes, talk, and then decide what do - I will not leave in the case, but it can always be there.

His eyes are dark, cloudy, listening to his story without a word, with too many words in my mouth, no need to say anything.

She looks at me knows that I understand it, look past me, knows that I listen to, you know who can tell me what you feel in the heart without filters in a long dialogue that rises to the lips only just enough to be said, but which is really a continuous story that has almost no internal need to stress, which was repeated several times in the head until you find this form quiet and resigned.

Un dialogo che va perfezionato, se l'intento è quello di nascondere la delusione e l'amore frustrato.

Gli offro una sigaretta, la prende, mi ringrazia, la tiene tra le dita senza accenderla, mi osserva accendere la mia, i suoi pensieri non sono lì.

Sorride quando riemerge, i suoi occhi quasi si scusano ma è solo buona educazione, voleva tanto parlarne che non si fermerebbe più e io non lo fermerei se potessi.

Sta facendo notte, in Corso Buenos Aires piove e si accendono le luci di Natale.

Quest'uomo parla di sé e di molti e di molte.

speaks of those who are alone and believed to find a half and then half that got lost somewhere - a dubious half wandering, barefoot and disheveled, and looking for a hand to pick up and bring her home, confused laws and restrictions, economic needs, parts of families who live elsewhere, are not shared cultural codes, new cultural codes are not yet understood.

Us and them, we stop.

U.S., mixed with the burden of living at a distance, many miles away that deepen wrinkles and furrows of loneliness, insecurity, of fragility, of the personal difficulties - united by fate common in a world where the family first duty is no longer the old coded and parental marital fidelity or respect, but the patience, the eternal waiting for wives and husbands, sons and daughters, mothers and fathers on the phone do not recognize when you see more and shake to strangers.

I am Italian, my husband is away Senegal for a year.

Senegalese friend of mine's husband is away for almost two Italian.

The wife of an acquaintance Albanian Italian fails to return for eight months and can not be certain of when he can get a visa.

The twins are the Bangladeshi caretaker arrived a fortnight ago, after two and a half years of waiting: you are playing two spinners who were thirteen, sixteen had requested, came two boys with the right to exercise the vote and to call the hotline with your credit card but their mother remembers them small and can not get used to the smell of their male counterparts.

Us and them, we stop.

bureaucratic reasons, legal reasons, economic reasons, contingent reasons that make that a long distance relationship, otherwise manageable, becomes a nightmare when the miles are too many and when you can not shorten each time your heart demands.

Maledette frontiere.

Pazienza, da coltivare con dedizione, certezze da mantenere salde, amore e cura che passano per i fili del telefono, adolescenti che crescono con la sola guida di una tessera telefonica internazionale.

I codici di riconoscimento dopo un po' saltano.

Dici “ciao” e si sente “vaffanculo”, dici “amore” e si sente “chi sei?”.

Chi sei amore? Ciao, vaffanculo.

Un giorno ho sentito forte la sua mancanza, fortissimo, ero per la strada, pioveva, tornavo da alcune costs, and I called, was a great feeling, how can I explain it? I do not know, I could not find the words I was stuck, maybe I'm scared and I was a bit 'aggressive with her.

Since then, it is not the same thing, she is closed and whenever we feel is a bit 'worse.

Perhaps the distance is the damage that being together will melt, or perhaps has done irreparable damage and she went elsewhere to look for companionship and comfort forgetting the other side of the sea.

Sometimes we fight, for no reason.

Sometimes he does things che non capisco, va a parlare con i miei famigliari, dice che l’ho abbandonata, che non voglio farla partire – le ho detto che deve parlare con me, dei nostri problemi, ma come posso pretendere che una voce nel telefono la tranquillizzi davvero?

Mio fratello è lì, presente, attento, occhi negli occhi, un braccio pronto a sorreggerla se scivola.

Forse lui cerca di portarmela via, forse invece prova ad aiutarmi, ma come lo capisco, al telefono?

Le uniche certezze che puoi avere devi dartele da solo e a volte scopri che sono solo illusioni, buone per non impazzire.

Adesso non so più se voglio che lei venga a stare qui, prima devo vederla, capire, guardarla negli occhi, capire cos’è successo.

Ciao, amore, chi sei?

Bailiff Seizure Meaning

sopprimiamoli love the bouncer!

mi sono persa dentro un desiderio troppo grande.
attraverso la strada e non mi accorgo che il semaforo è rosso.
prima o poi sarà troppo tardi.
mi sono persa.
vorrei stendermi lì, davanti a quella vetrina chiusa che mi guarda ottusa ogni mattina, sul wet pavement, close your eyes and stop thinking this cold makes me want to let me go.
but what right I have, I think to myself?
Mussa Khan arrived in Europe in the back of a truck ice cream.
"sopprimiamoli, even small children are Gypsies!"
there is no heat nor love, nor law anywhere.
I can not even breathe in the values \u200b\u200bthat I have grown.
I can not stop believing.
values \u200b\u200bserve to provide support, limits, rules, things warm and reassuring, are not crazy.
pretend that everything is always good, but I do not think, after all.
"women talk too much, the right to withdraw them word" ungrammatical arrogantly claim the administrator of a facebook group.
I lost in naive irresponsible, forty years.
I missed thinking about that a policeman could not kill a nigga with a teser
I missed saying that a farmer would never have bought toxic waste by the mafia polluting the earth and his own thoughts
I lost belief my husband was my husband.
shared values \u200b\u200band goals.
learn together to make the wedding.
to learn to shield against everything that's out there.
but what right have I to think of myself?
Africa has insurmountable problems, problems unimaginable in our spoiled white head - once advised people not to force the women to their pretty little head into their biggest problems of today are too polite to say it and use cultural differences - I can only wait, be quiet, not show, back straight and playing penelope - the same soup.
no one before had ever told me "you're sick," as if it were a colpa.
è questo il matrimonio?
il matrimonio è la colpa?
non basta avere un uomo accanto perchè la vita ti sorrida.
intanto la mia amica rom fuori dal bar muore di freddo e io non so se vuole abiti per coprirsi o per venderli e nemmeno mi importa perchè non ne ho da regalare
io adesso non sono forte.
non sono niente.
grido silenziosamente davanti a un telefono muto, strepito, pretendo, vorrei farmi del male per spostare il dolore dal cuore al sangue.
“la vita con te è un inferno”
la vita con me è un hell.
but I have to live there, you can go, I do not: how to survive in hell?
"you write with soul"
perhaps the soul can be useful to escape hell.
I'm lost in a too great desire, to grow together, and with a perfect pass from perfectible.
I'm lost and I do not know where to look andarmi.
dignity, a friend tells me severe.
dignity.
right.
when you still have the dignity will save you, keeps you in the organs who would run out, the stomach acid splashing, the brain bursts.
invention, dignity.
I lost my dignity.
and when you have more you lie there in front of that window is closed you look stupid every morning on the wet pavement, close your eyes and stop thinking the cold makes you want to let go.

[if I were certainly a man finds a woman willing to open myself unconditionally the door, listening to my anger against the world, in questioning before an obstacle, but probably, if I were a man, I do not notice it - I do not envy the pain, neither for men nor for women]

South Park The Movie Streeam

onions

but as they fight the Senegalese women?
probably as a huge amount of peel onions without letting his eyes water.

ago but still a bad dog.