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HOW 'BEAUTIFUL SNOW ...


snowing. Natalie tried to restart the engine of the car.
"Hey, you're finished telling the story!" said the little girl of three and a half years sitting in the back seat. He tried again to turn the ignition key. Nothing. The battery was completely drained.
"The car is broken," said the mother.
"What is broken?" asked the child.
"Oh, you're stuck. We need to wait for someone." "Who comes?"
Natalie turned and looked at the girl in the back seat: "Now I come, my angel." He leaned his elbow on the back of the front seat, passed in the space between two seats and sat back with the girl: "Come on." The child opened his arms and circled until he could the body of the mother: "Mom, do not we go to Daddy?"
"Yes, yes, but now we must wait here." The mother held her.
"Now we can finish our story?" asked the little girl with a smile.
"Sure, honey," her mother said, "it snowed and snowed, and the little house stood quietly in the snow. You could look out the window on how much snow had fallen ..." "Even we remain under the snow? "
" No, no, it was snowing in the history much, much more. "
" Continue. "
" The older children then thought of making a big fire in the fireplace. The children began to throw all the wood they found in the fireplace. The fire was getting hot and red. Then we threw chairs, pillows and armchairs. Then the furniture and beds. Soon the house was not nothing left to burn and then the children began to rest and sleep. The next day when they awoke the sun was shining through the window. They ran to the window and saw that happy in the garden and the plants were blooming flowers. They warmed up so much around the house that the house had come spring. " "Mom, I'm cold."
"Courage my little one. Soon Dad will get us. Because while I tell you a story?"
"It was cold outside. Even inside though. And the house was under the snow. The children were inside the house. And then it began to burn everything.
When they awoke the house was gone. Only the grass in the garden. "
"Sleep now."
"Mom, I'm cold."
The woman shook the baby to him.
snowing stronger and it was colder. They were wrapped in wool blankets. Natalie sang the quiet lullaby, rocking the baby. A lively

gust of cold wind and stormy night in the hut shook the old axes. Martino closed the book, taking the thumb through the pages and turned his wrist. His watch said half past eleven. He put the book on the table, settled back on the couch and the pillow well wrapped in the blanket. It was proposed to be patient, not to worry and sleep, maybe Natalie was left by their parents.

So, while he spent the night. Natalie stood there shivering and miserable. He thought Martin
only in their vacation cabin, talk to the happy evening with him, who took the hot tea in front of a roaring fire to their bed, covered by soft and cool down.
dawn came the sun. Matt shone through the thick layer of snow on the car windows. He calculated that in three hours, four at most, Martin was coming. Just

Martino slept soundly that night and got up in the morning full of energy. Stirred the fire in the fireplace, made coffee and breakfast, got dressed and decided to go to break a bit 'of wood.

"Mom, I'm cold." said the child and coughed. Even Natalie was cold. Then he felt thirsty. Her throat was dry and burned.
"Now we get a bit 'of snow and sucks like an ice cream, will you?"
"Like a strawberry ice cream?"
"Yes my little one, like a strawberry ice cream."
Natalie tried to lower the window a little. He failed. It was blocked by the frost. He tried to open the back door. Locked. He lifted the little girl, made her sit beside him. "Now the mother tries to open a door," he said while the well covered with a blanket. He tried several times but the car doors did not open. He remained exhausted and powerless. Said softly
"There's too much snow, my darling. Wait for the sun to warm up the car."
"As in the story?"
"Yes, yes, just like in history."

Meanwhile, Martin was cut with an ax. Just above the left hand. His hand was hanging only by a strip attached to the forearm skin and some tissue that Martin could not recognize. A gush of blood bathed her face. The clock pulse had fallen in the snow, cut by the blow. Martin thought that had it not been for the clock, the hand probably would have removed completely. He raised his arm and tried to stop the bleeding.
rays of the sun disappeared. Natalie saw the changing light and shadows. The cold persisted. She seemed to be there for many weeks. Insensitive and in spite of her slumber. Natalie held her baby in her arms and rocked her singing a lullaby.

semiconscious, Martin lay before the threshold of the hut. Failed to enter the house.
He was leaning against the wooden door cold and hard. He was too exhausted to want nothing but lie and rest. Clenched teeth and with incredible clarity knew dying, a few more minutes and would stay there, lying dead.

Natalie no longer felt the cold. He continued to sing and rock the baby. He enjoyed from that hushed silence and beautiful. Our soft blonde hair that little head sticking out of the girl tickled his chin. They knew peace. It was a moment of happiness, she thought, childish happiness. Until he fell asleep.

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THE RAIN ...


Fauriel just left the clinic he heard a slight murmur of people waiting their turn sitting on chairs, had no desire to talk so he lowered his gaze and walked quickly down the corridor of the ward after that went down the stairs and always keeping their gaze slid down quickly towards the exit with amazing ease on age.
He held still for a while 'looking down and saw that the ground was still snow fall the last few days.
Only after passing the big sliding doors of the hospital he looked up and glanced at the sky.
The gray clouds that had accompanied him just two hours ago, blacks had become big loads of rain clouds that threatened a big storm, the autumn breeze had been replaced by a nasty that can not promise anything good.
He did not even time to open the umbrella a little timid drops stood on his forehead. It did not take one of those pathetic meteorologists than playing the professoroni Fauriel just left the clinic he heard a slight murmur from the rise in television to understand that the rain would have anticipated a drop of rain. Nevertheless
began to cross the great and crowded square in the hospital with the umbrella closed and kept closed even when a few minutes later the rain began to fall and copiously as he walked and did not care at all what people might think of so seeing him in that moment with her hair wet and plastered on the front, his jacket soaked with rivulets of water ran down from the back, the elbows, arms up to touch the asphalt sidewalk and that umbrella close to hand, tightly closed. At that time not interested in anything just wanted to sit alone with his thoughts free from all external influences and in total freedom.
If he liked to hear the rain falling on the hair and down her cheeks, though he liked to feel the wind on wet skin that turned even colder than it already was, if he did not want to repair but wanted to hear the contact between him and the rain, between him and nature, why should not it? walk in the rain helped him to think and clear his head and even though his doctor strongly advised against it every now and then could not resist, on the other hand to Fauriel was a situation where thinking was necessary, indeed vital.
This curious glances of passers-by not disturbed in any way, Fauriel could certainly not thinking that someone had also recognizing giggled and made some kind of supposition, but seeing how his driver was taking probably a fool and if you have not had certainly did when Fauriel with a clear brief ordered him to leave. Without him. He decided that he would return home on foot, in the rain.

walked and walked again, and while the rain grew in intensity as if he wanted to continue to challenge him, he completely soaked, walked.
The streets were crowded, the passers-by who marched alongside her in the direction opposite to those in the same direction or crossing it past him with all their colorful umbrellas, until at some point just ahead of him he saw a woman standing in the stands motionless, with no umbrella, out in the rain.
was pervaded by a sense of solidarity without seeing her umbrella thinking maybe in a somewhat 'childish that she at that time by sharing his own thoughts, just a few steps to see that he was wrong.
head scarf, clothes that once must have been colored were now faded and torn, his face was covered with folds and wrinkles, the arms were short, the wet hand was tense, a gypsy woman begging in the rain.
Fauriel overcame the momentum of a little 'disappointed. Then suddenly stopped.
. ... wet hair plastered on his forehead, his jacket soaked with rivulets of water ran down from the back, the elbows, arms up to touch the asphalt pavement and close that umbrella in hand, tightly closed ..

He turned and walked towards the Gypsy looked into her eyes, small dark eyes that should have seen who knows how many places, how many people, how many worlds. He handed her the umbrella, the gypsy took it and smiled in that way that only the gypsies in their freedom can do, she smiled, both smiled in the rain.
And as she walked away in his footsteps were accompanied his voice in that language that only God knows how many and which languages \u200b\u200band is the result of which could take only a few words that gradually became more distant and repeated like an echo far
... "a lot of luck, luck, luck ...

now arrived, just behind that broad curve was her home, an impressive nineteenth century building.
But it was just as do those last meters to the house that he noticed something he did resurface one to which the memory for those twenty minutes in the rain was dissolving his life. could not think.
mind was just making those last few yards to the house he saw the snow fall in abundance in recent days was melting under the incessant and relentless blows of the rain of autumn just as the disease at that moment his life was melting.

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Events and sense of responsibility to the men

(photo by Garima)

Or talk to clichés

Recent events and subsequent discussions led to reflect on the significance surrounding our life. Words and comments led to understand that in fact we live to hear, or rather, we live according to the norms and dictates that there are inculcated, and we do not understand the absurd.

From this it follows that not only do not we live for our models, but also reason according to preconceived and imposed by stereotypes that have nothing to do with our nature as thinking beings.

The obvious conclusion is that in fact we are just now do with our ancestors, our ancestors, who might have been less advanced and erudite, but surely much more than we used the brain.

The speech focuses on the sense of responsibility in this society now fried and retract, the modern world as we know it, revolves around the concept of responsibility.

On closer inspection, the generation of the two thousand uses and abuses of that period, put everything on the sense of responsibility. There is no field in which no appeals to the sense of responsibility, politics, economics, the social medicine, the profession to entertainment, from family to religion. And

when today we indignation, and this is increasingly the case, we conclude every speech always with a sense of responsibility.

I am a responsible person is the phrase most abused and exploited in the years post-modern.

Every event that does not solicit our sense of responsibility, that does not encourage us to be more and more responsible.

And the question arises: how is it with this strong boost to the sense of responsibility, our world is increasingly falling apart?

Here comes the mystery, it is clear that any wheel is out of place, and some gear does not turn the right way.

Recent events of ecological disasters do nothing but encourage our consciousness of consumers, and encourage us to say we must be more responsible.

Recent economic events lead us to conclude that we must all be more responsible for our habits and to avoid the collapse that we have to moderate them. Recent political events

indignant pushing us to take personal responsibility for active citizens to try to give a signal of change. Recent

religious events lead us to assume spiritual positions responsibly, having more faith in what we say by heart.

In every aspect of our daily lives that we do not repeat that we are responsible and others, only others are unaware of, and that is why things go wrong.

How much truth, in a nutshell is within us?

We seriously believe that we are personally responsible and that is what happens outside of our control?

Recently a sad event has given rise to the conscience of many in saying that by adults, especially in the presence of family ties, should adopt a responsible lifestyle.

Because of the family we must be more responsible, more adults if we want to ensure as far as possible a future for our descendants, our children, our grandchildren.

Yeah ... all right?

Man as animal is only the law, ensure procreation and the continuity of the species.

all right then?

It would seem so, if that is all fake as the glass most commonly sold as emerald.

Simply we are playing at the subject and the script is not written by us.

How else to explain, in these circumstances, the fact that we continue to make and accept all the slaves for a pittance, how to explain that we lend our work in activities that kill our planet, how is it that our figure and our work is exploited to extract the most money, how to pretend not to know that these same children who we say we protect them means that we leave in the hands of us relieve the fatigue (and say it a good time is a chore) to grow up and listen, how to explain it to ourselves that in front of our child protective and then do the opposite to those that infect the air and water and food immodest bend your head if nothing had happened. We think that avoiding a product brand or the other place to put our conscience, for that matter if the market what it is ... we can only choose the lesser evil.

How is it that we feel in front of teachers who leave the family out of pure selfishness (or unfortunately for the will) and then with equal sagacity us personally plundered the planet in fact taking away not only our children but to all future generations the opportunity to have any future?

's funny how we affirm our responsibility on the one hand and the other you give to the most infamous looting that man can make. We are eating our land at a pace not seen in centuries past, and claim to be responsible? But

responsible for what?

One wonders, before talking about the brain connect it, or we wind the horn as we are in a concert cacophonous sounds?

know only people responsible, I have only responsible persons, see around only responsible persons, and the way it falls so low, why?

seriously is to be hoped that a change is coming, an end, a distortion, but that both of our minds, our values, and bring us back to a condition of statement without hesitation, and especially to a condition of natural conscience.

that the end of the world, this world come as soon as possible, because it can not be more.