Osk Green Tea Caffeine

I do not have anything

I know I do not own anything. I understood at a great price, but I think I did anyway soon enough. In the best time to enjoy the rest of my days. I know I do not own anything.

I read Ali Smith, a sort of "addict of the novels" in the sense that in order to grasp the full meaning of his stories should first take a mental trip. And who knows why - I can not dwell on this point because the risk of being subjected to doping control provided for bloggers - I have fully grasped the depth of the last page of his book.

I know I do not own anything. And the best that I can wish for things that I love and live their lives in freedom. Maybe sharing it with me when they want, but always in their way.

Carry the last lines of "The first person." Words that if you grab them in the truest sense really illuminate our minds possessive.

"When I go downstairs to prepare two cups of tea I see the dining room table still in the garden on the lawn under the moonlight. It 's something unexpected. It seems unwise, abnormal. The changing table in the garden. The garden changes the table. When I look at it, it strikes me that the table is beyond my control. Until now, that is, I thought I have that table. And now, looking outside there, I know that it is not. And for the first time I know that maybe I do not own anything. If it rains tonight, the wood does not warp immediately. But if we leave it open for a long time, eventually will burst. Come out of the cracks. Stains. There will be many little crevices where the wasps and other animals nibbling the wood to make us the nest. The legs will sink into the grass, the grass grows all around the legs. The bindweed will find it. The heat and the cold ruin. The green will engulf him, around him will die and be reborn, it will make the old, damaged, aged. I do not know what to think about tomorrow or the next day, but this is what I think at this time. And 'the best that could happen to anything I ever imagined my "

Artist Copyright Formsample

A show 48 hours long


Cagliari is a dip in the sea, is a plane that touches the waters of the Gulf and then lean on a tight strip of land is good morning to a land that looks like a mole on a white body, something placed there out of spite, but that does not take much to be understood as nothing would be the same no.

Cagliari is a succession of steps have been surveying his lean on green expanses of water, is born strong flavors from lands jealous, it smells of wet salty tears of people who expect the world out there. Cagliari is an unexpected finding, Cagliari in Sardinia.

I did not even have time to feel a stranger in a land unknown to me. There was Robert waiting for me. It 's a girl inside, but strong - very strong - and determined. It takes the lives of many slaps has taken her. Here, I just gave the impression of a boxer, one of those facing the ring with his fists and his face down and discovered that it took every punch they come back, inevitably, another, always. It 's beautiful inside than outside. E 'Sardinian, those that slow the heart beat of things to read about a land alone and lonely.

Cagliari is also good. Since its bread loaves and then his version carasau tasty breads guttiau. And yet on and on coccoi civraxiu. What about the so culurgionis, delicious ravioli stuffed with potatoes and mint. Everything then dampened by the inevitable myrtle. Yes, Cagliari is really good.

It's hot in Sardinia. The weather is often associated with central Italy, but it's hot so that would be good, really good, close to Sicily. And it's wet. It leaves its salty tears in the skin, you choking, but then, when you're tired when you feel like giving up, a fresh breath lifts your mood. And 'this, Sardinia, Cagliari is this.

you get tired, I tired to follow his ups and downs and his innate nervousness. But then not let you go, you still convinced that it's worth it.

The people of Vasco is already inside. Many are from yesterday. Inside a myth, in a world that may not like it but it exists and you can not ignore. We are many, here they would meet Vasco Sardinia, and beyond. You feel it in the air Vegetarian, suspended in the rock sounds of the words, movements of young men united by an invisible thread. Do lack hour event: sitting in the waiting thousands of legs runoff serene but with a bit of background that will explode quell'adrenalina irrepressible. This is Vasco: irrepressible.

Occasionally a scream fills the sky Vascoooo, Vascooooo. There are hours of waiting, only this, hours of waiting.

Everything is dark, the moon was hidden by clouds, a few accomplices. Apart from the first notes come to life the first light, we hear the voice of Komandant: Blasco's cap on his head, his usual grit and a great desire to let off steam. With "A great film" starts the show, even now it is as if he had not done more. It 's a series of harsh sounds and melodies to screaming delicate, at times barely whispered. Time flies, the emotions will follow until you reach the peak with the acoustic medley, with "Laughing" at all. And above it all. Then there's the thirty-year notes of "Albatross" and then you know that we are to yours, what else can not give you this incredible evening.

The last thought is about perfection, indescribable joy, of pure pleasure.

The night flies away, but as the rain gives me a good morning star full of vibrant, memorable. Like the three days lived on an island that has a lot of family members. If Sicily is a mom, Sardinia is my aunt. These islands are sisters, but different name from something that goes beyond concreteness of human existence.

A few hours I came back to breathe my air, my fatigue is a companion, legs and head heavy. But I'm lucky and I know: I went to a concert of two hours and I spent 48 hours long instead of a show. Unforgettable, simply unforgettable.

Opening Program Prayer

Give me an A. .., give me a em .... And

In my hands this holiday period were spent in motion. I debated between polymer clay and crochet, all in quantities of one who is absolutely other. I created yards of cords with knitting ... In short, I am dedicated to my pleasures very creative. Wandering in my own little world, I came across some fabulous cards décopatch and then I decided to bring to completion the project for which I had purchased. So give me a


... give me a


give me a ....


give me a ...

and then give me a ...


The result can be only one, no matter what your language or what your inclination, the result is ...



Now I just have to do is find a worthy corner of this building, so that covers my tiny little house ... but not in Canada!
I really had fun with this project, because the paper décopatch is very easy to use, and its use also like me, who does not like decoupage!
What can you do ... de gustibus!
See u soon, my dear and beloved.
the next project.