Computer security, scams
Users Argentine social network Facebook are becoming victims of malware, viruses and Trojans. Trend
Argentina, specializing in computer security consultant, reported on possible virus in English that have begun to run on Facebook.
In a statement the company explains that "this new attack has two characteristics that enabled its rapid spread and thus, the infection of large numbers of users in Argentina." The maneuver
urges Facebook users to perform a surgical copying a code in your browser but, unlike previous cases using the "vos" instead of "you" as they are accustomed in the English of Galicia. " As indicated by Mauro Tundis
Cocca Specialist Trend Antimalware Team Argentina "threat information comes disguised in an invitation to an event via Facebook from contact of the user that he even speaks for the chat network, making it virtually impossible for Users feel the danger. "
Recommendations. Trend from Argentina suggested to note the following precautions:
- For privacy concerns of users, no application will display the number of visits to a user profile. Therefore disbelieve the news.
- Be aware of the links that can pass supposedly friends contacts. Like Messenger, users can be sending malicious link without realizing it. It is always advisable to ask some questions about what it is that we are sending to be sure it is something that we actually sent with some intention.
- Never copy codes that are aware of their precedence, nor install applications on the Facebook account that are suspicious.
- Learn. Whenever you suspect a link or application, it never hurts to check the information in a web browser such as Google.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
How To Free Watch Digital Playground
Chapter 10: The wonderful garden (PART II)
"One moment, I notice something strange in the bag," I said opening it. My surprise was paramount to see how the doll moved her arms to clasp the bottom of the site indicating exactly where the cabin was the concierge. - Look at moving! - I said surprised. Martina, Rosa and Rita came quickly to see the curious scene. We all were totally overwhelmed by the little prodigy. - It's true and points to there! - Rita said excitedly. "Come, let us go into the interior of the concierge to see what we mean the doll," added Martina on his way without thinking twice, to the beautiful goal. Once there tried to open the glass door but could not because it was locked. Rosa, who as I have said many times is a true handyman used one of his forks to try to open the lock and how no, he did. The cabin was really small, in fact did not fit the four, so we decided to take turns for inspection. In a first round Martina and Rita, anxious, lost, were commissioned to review as thoroughly as possible the tiny room, while Rosa and I kept a close watch that no neighbor get caught red-handed. Your search was totally unsuccessful, so Rosa and I entered. It occurred to me remove the wrist if we wanted to "say" something else, and yes, started pointing with her little hand the soil beneath an old round table. Martina dropped to the ground as if his life. She pulled the tablecloth and carpet below. Judging by the fingers of dust that hid we conclude that had not been cleaned in decades, and then discovered a trapdoor. - Look a door! - Martina cried separating dust that covered the door handle. At four heart was pounding us completely, we had finally found something. We could not believe but all this was not a dream, it was totally real. Martina reached the ring on the door and it yielded without any effort. Under that door we could only see darkness. I could see nothing, only guessed stairs that ended up in a narrow corridor. Then, as bold decision to join. Despite the thick darkness we had no fear. Rita, occasional smoker, always carried a lighter in my bag and I must say that we were of pearls to illuminate the path. When you turn the burner could see that the hall was fully decorated with floral motifs and painted stucco as the authentic Art Nouveau style. The large amount of dust and cobwebs covering the walls showed us that no one had been there in a long time. After walking several meters this tunnel we started seeing a radiance corresponding to the supposed end of the hall. We continued walking in silence, only our breathing and our feet broke this intriguing atmosphere. Clarity was becoming evident, therefore, that we could do without the light the burner. At last we came down the hall and only a glass door, beautiful, very ornate with gold, inlaid with gems and magnificent stained glass windows grounds full of vegetables and trees separating us from the outside. Open the door very slowly and appeared behind her left us agape. An incredible and extensive garden is opened before our eyes, lush and full as any of life everywhere. It seemed as if the plant and animal motifs carved or formed part of the typical modernist glass had come to life in that garden. In it, exotic birds, butterflies and insects bizarre walking from one side to another very busy carrying pollen caught a variety of flowers so beautiful as never seen before and wrapped it all with his unearthly aroma. In the middle of the garden were two huge trees covered in gold leaf and everywhere there were little orchards where fruit jugosísimos interspersed with fruit made of precious stones. Of all the wonders that were in the unexpected Eden was very appealing to us a vine, the grapes from which emanated a beautiful violet light having a power of attraction without equal. Martina and I were laying on the floor of the magnificent paradise while Rita and Rosa set out to try the succulent fruits of the trees, checking to the surprise of the four, a fruit that came immediately start another of the same characteristics. We were absolutely ecstatic. "My God, never could have imagined that there was something. Never in my wildest dreams! Like something out of a story, but it is real and in the heart of Barcelona! How can no one knew of its existence? - Martina asked aloud as he stroked a beautiful strawberry made of rubies and diamonds. - It's amazing! My father knew this? And why not tell me anything! - Added incredulously. "I think she should know. At the end of the day, it all started in a cabinet in their cellar. So do not let anyone go down without his permission, until you did ... - said Rosa. - It is true as well that night, the winery was not locked and he always kept locked, always! Seems like he discovered this, "said tying ropes. - But, why? - Asked Rita. "I do not know. Maybe later we know, "I said with a shrug. We stayed a while eating the fantastic Eden of those wonderful fruit and a sumptuous landscape. Within a few hours we decided to leave because it was getting late. Now we knew of its existence and could return at any moment they saw fit. We closed the door and walked the beautiful passage in reverse until we got back to the cabin of the goal. We went to leave everything as we had found, so that anyone who could get notice that someone had been there, and unless you discover the secret door. Eating those fruits had given us a lot of energy, optimism and vitality, we were incredibly well. - Girls do not you meet God? This morning when I raised was crushed by the rush of these days and for the trip. I hurt all over and had a face like I had spent the night breaking stones in Siberia. However, now I'm like new! - Martina said looking in the rearview mirror of the car. Then touching her cheeks with both hands and face of disbelief added: "There can be, but ... - - Yes, I also find great. What can not be? - Asked curiously. Rita and Rosa were also better than ever. "Girls, do not you see me younger? Where are my odious and incipient crow's feet?, Are my grooves to laugh? Let's see not that it was a crock, many would be with a song in the teeth to stay as I at thirty-something, but I had my "wonderful" first wrinkles willing to remind me every day I'm getting older, the very hateful. .. Look at me now, I have no one!, I have the skin as 20 years! - Said carefully looking in the rearview mirror. - It's true, you look younger! What about us? - Said Rita. - Well, you are you like, but of course with your age ... You little girls, and the vidorra that pegabais you in your time, stress, pollution, you could not work ... little older. Since then, are you fixing me life. How I would like to see the faces of some operated forked tongues when I see "Martina said with a laugh. - You're right, we're diviiinas Rita nodded powdering her nose. - Do you think it may be the fruit of the garden that you have rejuvenated? - Rita said in amazement. - As they have to be either fruit or a miracle - Martina replied smiling. - Sure!, Some property had to have!, Appearance and aroma are totally supernatural! - I thrilled. "Every time I'm more surprised, what else can we find?" I said. "Well, let's take things cautiously. We have just started with this, "Rosa said as cautious as ever.
"One moment, I notice something strange in the bag," I said opening it. My surprise was paramount to see how the doll moved her arms to clasp the bottom of the site indicating exactly where the cabin was the concierge. - Look at moving! - I said surprised. Martina, Rosa and Rita came quickly to see the curious scene. We all were totally overwhelmed by the little prodigy. - It's true and points to there! - Rita said excitedly. "Come, let us go into the interior of the concierge to see what we mean the doll," added Martina on his way without thinking twice, to the beautiful goal. Once there tried to open the glass door but could not because it was locked. Rosa, who as I have said many times is a true handyman used one of his forks to try to open the lock and how no, he did. The cabin was really small, in fact did not fit the four, so we decided to take turns for inspection. In a first round Martina and Rita, anxious, lost, were commissioned to review as thoroughly as possible the tiny room, while Rosa and I kept a close watch that no neighbor get caught red-handed. Your search was totally unsuccessful, so Rosa and I entered. It occurred to me remove the wrist if we wanted to "say" something else, and yes, started pointing with her little hand the soil beneath an old round table. Martina dropped to the ground as if his life. She pulled the tablecloth and carpet below. Judging by the fingers of dust that hid we conclude that had not been cleaned in decades, and then discovered a trapdoor. - Look a door! - Martina cried separating dust that covered the door handle. At four heart was pounding us completely, we had finally found something. We could not believe but all this was not a dream, it was totally real. Martina reached the ring on the door and it yielded without any effort. Under that door we could only see darkness. I could see nothing, only guessed stairs that ended up in a narrow corridor. Then, as bold decision to join. Despite the thick darkness we had no fear. Rita, occasional smoker, always carried a lighter in my bag and I must say that we were of pearls to illuminate the path. When you turn the burner could see that the hall was fully decorated with floral motifs and painted stucco as the authentic Art Nouveau style. The large amount of dust and cobwebs covering the walls showed us that no one had been there in a long time. After walking several meters this tunnel we started seeing a radiance corresponding to the supposed end of the hall. We continued walking in silence, only our breathing and our feet broke this intriguing atmosphere. Clarity was becoming evident, therefore, that we could do without the light the burner. At last we came down the hall and only a glass door, beautiful, very ornate with gold, inlaid with gems and magnificent stained glass windows grounds full of vegetables and trees separating us from the outside. Open the door very slowly and appeared behind her left us agape. An incredible and extensive garden is opened before our eyes, lush and full as any of life everywhere. It seemed as if the plant and animal motifs carved or formed part of the typical modernist glass had come to life in that garden. In it, exotic birds, butterflies and insects bizarre walking from one side to another very busy carrying pollen caught a variety of flowers so beautiful as never seen before and wrapped it all with his unearthly aroma. In the middle of the garden were two huge trees covered in gold leaf and everywhere there were little orchards where fruit jugosísimos interspersed with fruit made of precious stones. Of all the wonders that were in the unexpected Eden was very appealing to us a vine, the grapes from which emanated a beautiful violet light having a power of attraction without equal. Martina and I were laying on the floor of the magnificent paradise while Rita and Rosa set out to try the succulent fruits of the trees, checking to the surprise of the four, a fruit that came immediately start another of the same characteristics. We were absolutely ecstatic. "My God, never could have imagined that there was something. Never in my wildest dreams! Like something out of a story, but it is real and in the heart of Barcelona! How can no one knew of its existence? - Martina asked aloud as he stroked a beautiful strawberry made of rubies and diamonds. - It's amazing! My father knew this? And why not tell me anything! - Added incredulously. "I think she should know. At the end of the day, it all started in a cabinet in their cellar. So do not let anyone go down without his permission, until you did ... - said Rosa. - It is true as well that night, the winery was not locked and he always kept locked, always! Seems like he discovered this, "said tying ropes. - But, why? - Asked Rita. "I do not know. Maybe later we know, "I said with a shrug. We stayed a while eating the fantastic Eden of those wonderful fruit and a sumptuous landscape. Within a few hours we decided to leave because it was getting late. Now we knew of its existence and could return at any moment they saw fit. We closed the door and walked the beautiful passage in reverse until we got back to the cabin of the goal. We went to leave everything as we had found, so that anyone who could get notice that someone had been there, and unless you discover the secret door. Eating those fruits had given us a lot of energy, optimism and vitality, we were incredibly well. - Girls do not you meet God? This morning when I raised was crushed by the rush of these days and for the trip. I hurt all over and had a face like I had spent the night breaking stones in Siberia. However, now I'm like new! - Martina said looking in the rearview mirror of the car. Then touching her cheeks with both hands and face of disbelief added: "There can be, but ... - - Yes, I also find great. What can not be? - Asked curiously. Rita and Rosa were also better than ever. "Girls, do not you see me younger? Where are my odious and incipient crow's feet?, Are my grooves to laugh? Let's see not that it was a crock, many would be with a song in the teeth to stay as I at thirty-something, but I had my "wonderful" first wrinkles willing to remind me every day I'm getting older, the very hateful. .. Look at me now, I have no one!, I have the skin as 20 years! - Said carefully looking in the rearview mirror. - It's true, you look younger! What about us? - Said Rita. - Well, you are you like, but of course with your age ... You little girls, and the vidorra that pegabais you in your time, stress, pollution, you could not work ... little older. Since then, are you fixing me life. How I would like to see the faces of some operated forked tongues when I see "Martina said with a laugh. - You're right, we're diviiinas Rita nodded powdering her nose. - Do you think it may be the fruit of the garden that you have rejuvenated? - Rita said in amazement. - As they have to be either fruit or a miracle - Martina replied smiling. - Sure!, Some property had to have!, Appearance and aroma are totally supernatural! - I thrilled. "Every time I'm more surprised, what else can we find?" I said. "Well, let's take things cautiously. We have just started with this, "Rosa said as cautious as ever.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Permanent Wood Foundation 30 Years
Awakenings
The first time I heard that piece of music I did in a dark garden accompanied by family members who do not see much of a bulky good-natured voice which was also drawn from life by the whims of the universe. He did not understand its significance (how could I?), But some words were tattooed on my mind, like those hieroglyphics which nobody understands and which have nevertheless stood the test of time. Disguised melancholy indifference, words whose real meaning was numb for a few solemn chords and sarcasm, all that captivated me grouchy bellows that tune by saying, "Do not ever expect aid or a hand, or a favor."
was absurd, after all, that those words they had a connection with reality. How could anyone tell the truth when he said "you'll see that everything is a lie, you will see that nothing is love? Sure, there have been so long since that dark Sunday (or was it Monday? Do not know!) And I lost my glasses of innocence, those that allowed me to cure myopia of solitude. There are times when, driving down the highway of life, I inevitably turn the mirror of the past so useless and I would find a way back. Why? Do not think for something in particular determining or useful. In fact the only thing I would do is enjoy the same evening, now understanding the truth of the tangos challenging and perhaps ask for something in particular (I can think of "Cambalache") to that character, laughing carefree and indulgent night shadows I had no idea (or maybe yes?) that his life would not be as long as he could have wanted.
"The meaning of this story? None, probably. After all, pretending that there is any significance has been the first big lie that made us swallow. But as the same tango: "When world does not care "and that really is a great truth.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Congratulate On Promotion Qotes
Arrabal truths
awoke, and when he did, was again a child of seven years.
few familiar voices being lifted up in a hurry to not miss the bus. Puzzled, he noticed how they retained the smell of her room for years would ask, without success. He looked at the window, through which loomed the song of the birds that had awakened him every day of his childhood, always attached to the tune and complaint of the metal door of the car, which he later recalled most fondly that birds madrugones fools, who would hate forever. Was surprised his hands, small and free from distress, with which every one thought he could realize their dreams. He sat on the bed, but it was almost six and twenty, and then his father came into the room.
His father, whose face still had that look of mock severity that never completely conceal his satisfaction, he went and pulled the sheets, lifting the room, provoking laughter echo adormecería which over the years. Landed again with an inexplicable happiness, and quickly put on his uniform: a white little shirt worn in the left pocket of his school's logo (one that would later recall as "the old seal, then change a couple of times during of education), jeans and Reebok shoes by then considered the most comfortable thing he could get one, though not bother tying up a lot in braids, distraction that would haunt him until late adulthood.
left his room and stared at the hallway that led him to the bathroom and was surprised to see its dimensions multiplied. I swore I was small, which was not surprising, since as a teenager I would go through with three strides. Upon entering the bathroom was a small stool that helped him rise to a height which allowed herself in the mirror, and there again was a familiar face: his own. Comic smiled and revealed a string of small teeth, which brushed with strength and skill, as he taught his cousin the orthodontist, seven or eight years later. He did his best to brush with uncontrollable force had killed her by the hair, and was impressed that he was not small hairs fall to do so.
left the bathroom and opened the squeaky door that separated the living room, and saw his mother approaching with all its porcelanesca smile to accommodate his uniform, because there was always some detail right, maybe a belt loop belt that he had forgotten. took his backpack and a Simpsons lunchbox no particular drawings had decorated with stickers of characters who remember it for longer than expected. He asked with a timid curiosity if I could say goodbye to his newborn sister, but as he had spent a long night filled with tears and cramps, said he better wait for lunch to say hello. A couple of hugs, blessings, and flying out of the apartment, heading to the plant low, counting each step and competing against himself, a habit that will eventually become one of the worst torments.
The ground floor of the building looked as it would be tattooed on his memory, a wide room in which there were several roads. One of them carried the parking lot through a long corridor of trunks, the other, directly opposite the former, was shorter and ended with the party room. Back were the elevators, which would prevent use by many long after power failures (though fortunately lived on the first floor), and forwards a glass wall leading to the porch and intercoms. This was where he joined his friends to wait for the bus. The
could see: the lanky figure of Albert, the driver's wife confuse him several times, and working in the school library for many years after graduation. Also saw the smiling bag fuchsia Naomi, who was called Mimi, who became one of his first friends to become pregnant in adolescence. Also saw the corpulent mass of Gentile Joshua, brother of Mimi , who remembered every time you eat tacos. These three friends were waiting for the "Transport One," which took them to school and would be driven by the same driver, Ali, long after graduation and their migration.
got on the bus are giving a greeting sleepy and almost intelligible, and sat on the penultimate row. Had to take those jobs, because at the time of departure it was almost impossible to sit in them. The red leather seats were newer than he remembered, and saw dozens of sleepy faces that would eventually forget. Some talked about how to pass the fifth dungeon of Zelda , and others, the older ones, they took the time to review your notes. He looked abstractedly the window, not to avoid being sociable with peers, but by being saturated with images that, although it was common that day had a weight and a special impact. The ride was still as we remember over the years.
The school building stood towering at the end of the steep street, still crowned by the old drive-in that gave him his name. Stepping off the bus, slyly turned the site where posters hung films and found that Chucky and was not scared at all. How could he give? if in the future would come many consequences of this ridiculous film. Entered the central courtyard of the school, and while all the students sang mechanically the anthem, was trying to detail the faces of her friends, some of which would not change much on their way to adulthood, and others whose face would look like nothing "end product". But what really was amused to see so many teachers that after years would cease to fully respect a solemnity plastic pretending to hear the notes homelands. Trying to hide their laughter behind a smile that, indeed, even he seemed a little ridiculous.
got into the room with the typical chaos of those days, preceded by the deafening ring tantrum. He thought, like so many times that the pedagogical sense some schools was bound to come from the directors of Auschwitz, and laughed a little to himself to think how strange it was that a student seven years had such a benchmark. Decided to keep his references to history and philosophy and do everything possible to act according to their age, which also form part of their modus operandi for most of his life.
The first classes were incredibly boring, but the company of his friends (and those who were to become) represented a major distraction in the midst of the monotony of the Palmer method, the Hymn to the Tree and a rather superficial explanation Cycle Water. Fortunately he always found time to talk a little bit (quietly) about Ninja Turtles, Nintendo games and even exchange Barajitas clandestinely, risking a potential cry of the teacher on duty.
A recess, made a long and noisy queue to enjoy a pie and a passion fruit juice for twenty Bs, and was amused to see his friend Wilmer, "Chinese", buy a hundred- and spent most of the change in small (and delicious) candy " Zoo." After eating, he took the rest of the time to play in the "outer court" something his friend Martin had invented a game with rules rather trivial and mutable called "The Jailer".
He met some friends in another section, but felt something different to see a small punch in the stomach so overwhelmed with sadness. How could playful Rodolfo prepare for the death of his brother? Would you know the little Federico all the suffering that would bring the separation of their parents? As yet not known, it was no use to approach them in order to warn anything. If anything I knew, was that the time had to respect their whims. Noon came
faster of what might be expected, and was back in the Transport One back home. And if that yellow and noisy bus had more than hearse school that morning, at noon was the most chaotic symphony of childhood dreams, materialized with shouts, laughter and hydrated with chupi-feelies to withstand the heat that preceded the time lunch. The window saw the facade of his building, that had the "balcony twisted" in a zigzag architectural delirium each apartment gave a different distribution.
Saying goodbye to its three neighbors (who always made fun of his reluctance to be mounted in the elevator), ran the stairs to reach the apartment number 13, which would in adulthood a silly superstition that this was indeed his lucky number. There he hoped his parents and his small (and new) younger sister in a family harmony at seven years no one is able to assess, but over time becomes the most obvious symbol of happiness.
ate willingly, to the surprise of her mother, and usually not very fond of lentils, and it would take some years before they develop a taste for grain. Right in the lunch, the phone interrupted the act of eating, and he hastened to answer it (Both to prevent his father or his mother parasen to satisfy the curiosity of who might be). He shook a wave of laughter and good things when he heard the voice of his grandmother, who greeted him with a voice almost as comforting as a hug. His mother, he realized who it was, was quick to remove the headset and talked with her briefly. "Your grandmother is on Friday to stay a week," his mother said after hanging up, creating a huge smile on his face, and a bit of disdain in his father's.
When they had finished eating and his parents did nap, sat on the couch in the balcony and did not care much sounded's cartoons on television as the street, the mountains and the minimum noise that can only remember one who succumbs to nostalgia. I was there, at home, in moments of pure joy indescribable. And perhaps such joy can not be supported by a body of seven years, because on the couch he slept on the balcony, thinking about his school, his friends, his sister and looking forward to a visit from his grandmother, perhaps the only I could understand the unique situation in which he was. Ecstatic
so much happiness, he learned that he had never reconciled briefly such a deep sleep, but soon decided that at that time it was more valuable to be awake than asleep, so I decided to use all his strength to get out of this nap as soon as possible. And there was that confirmed the sad reality.
awoke, and when he did, was again a man of twenty years.
awoke, and when he did, was again a child of seven years.
few familiar voices being lifted up in a hurry to not miss the bus. Puzzled, he noticed how they retained the smell of her room for years would ask, without success. He looked at the window, through which loomed the song of the birds that had awakened him every day of his childhood, always attached to the tune and complaint of the metal door of the car, which he later recalled most fondly that birds madrugones fools, who would hate forever. Was surprised his hands, small and free from distress, with which every one thought he could realize their dreams. He sat on the bed, but it was almost six and twenty, and then his father came into the room.
His father, whose face still had that look of mock severity that never completely conceal his satisfaction, he went and pulled the sheets, lifting the room, provoking laughter echo adormecería which over the years. Landed again with an inexplicable happiness, and quickly put on his uniform: a white little shirt worn in the left pocket of his school's logo (one that would later recall as "the old seal, then change a couple of times during of education), jeans and Reebok shoes by then considered the most comfortable thing he could get one, though not bother tying up a lot in braids, distraction that would haunt him until late adulthood.
left his room and stared at the hallway that led him to the bathroom and was surprised to see its dimensions multiplied. I swore I was small, which was not surprising, since as a teenager I would go through with three strides. Upon entering the bathroom was a small stool that helped him rise to a height which allowed herself in the mirror, and there again was a familiar face: his own. Comic smiled and revealed a string of small teeth, which brushed with strength and skill, as he taught his cousin the orthodontist, seven or eight years later. He did his best to brush with uncontrollable force had killed her by the hair, and was impressed that he was not small hairs fall to do so.
left the bathroom and opened the squeaky door that separated the living room, and saw his mother approaching with all its porcelanesca smile to accommodate his uniform, because there was always some detail right, maybe a belt loop belt that he had forgotten. took his backpack and a Simpsons lunchbox no particular drawings had decorated with stickers of characters who remember it for longer than expected. He asked with a timid curiosity if I could say goodbye to his newborn sister, but as he had spent a long night filled with tears and cramps, said he better wait for lunch to say hello. A couple of hugs, blessings, and flying out of the apartment, heading to the plant low, counting each step and competing against himself, a habit that will eventually become one of the worst torments.
The ground floor of the building looked as it would be tattooed on his memory, a wide room in which there were several roads. One of them carried the parking lot through a long corridor of trunks, the other, directly opposite the former, was shorter and ended with the party room. Back were the elevators, which would prevent use by many long after power failures (though fortunately lived on the first floor), and forwards a glass wall leading to the porch and intercoms. This was where he joined his friends to wait for the bus. The
could see: the lanky figure of Albert, the driver's wife confuse him several times, and working in the school library for many years after graduation. Also saw the smiling bag fuchsia Naomi, who was called Mimi, who became one of his first friends to become pregnant in adolescence. Also saw the corpulent mass of Gentile Joshua, brother of Mimi , who remembered every time you eat tacos. These three friends were waiting for the "Transport One," which took them to school and would be driven by the same driver, Ali, long after graduation and their migration.
got on the bus are giving a greeting sleepy and almost intelligible, and sat on the penultimate row. Had to take those jobs, because at the time of departure it was almost impossible to sit in them. The red leather seats were newer than he remembered, and saw dozens of sleepy faces that would eventually forget. Some talked about how to pass the fifth dungeon of Zelda , and others, the older ones, they took the time to review your notes. He looked abstractedly the window, not to avoid being sociable with peers, but by being saturated with images that, although it was common that day had a weight and a special impact. The ride was still as we remember over the years.
The school building stood towering at the end of the steep street, still crowned by the old drive-in that gave him his name. Stepping off the bus, slyly turned the site where posters hung films and found that Chucky and was not scared at all. How could he give? if in the future would come many consequences of this ridiculous film. Entered the central courtyard of the school, and while all the students sang mechanically the anthem, was trying to detail the faces of her friends, some of which would not change much on their way to adulthood, and others whose face would look like nothing "end product". But what really was amused to see so many teachers that after years would cease to fully respect a solemnity plastic pretending to hear the notes homelands. Trying to hide their laughter behind a smile that, indeed, even he seemed a little ridiculous.
got into the room with the typical chaos of those days, preceded by the deafening ring tantrum. He thought, like so many times that the pedagogical sense some schools was bound to come from the directors of Auschwitz, and laughed a little to himself to think how strange it was that a student seven years had such a benchmark. Decided to keep his references to history and philosophy and do everything possible to act according to their age, which also form part of their modus operandi for most of his life.
The first classes were incredibly boring, but the company of his friends (and those who were to become) represented a major distraction in the midst of the monotony of the Palmer method, the Hymn to the Tree and a rather superficial explanation Cycle Water. Fortunately he always found time to talk a little bit (quietly) about Ninja Turtles, Nintendo games and even exchange Barajitas clandestinely, risking a potential cry of the teacher on duty.
A recess, made a long and noisy queue to enjoy a pie and a passion fruit juice for twenty Bs, and was amused to see his friend Wilmer, "Chinese", buy a hundred- and spent most of the change in small (and delicious) candy " Zoo." After eating, he took the rest of the time to play in the "outer court" something his friend Martin had invented a game with rules rather trivial and mutable called "The Jailer".
He met some friends in another section, but felt something different to see a small punch in the stomach so overwhelmed with sadness. How could playful Rodolfo prepare for the death of his brother? Would you know the little Federico all the suffering that would bring the separation of their parents? As yet not known, it was no use to approach them in order to warn anything. If anything I knew, was that the time had to respect their whims. Noon came
faster of what might be expected, and was back in the Transport One back home. And if that yellow and noisy bus had more than hearse school that morning, at noon was the most chaotic symphony of childhood dreams, materialized with shouts, laughter and hydrated with chupi-feelies to withstand the heat that preceded the time lunch. The window saw the facade of his building, that had the "balcony twisted" in a zigzag architectural delirium each apartment gave a different distribution.
Saying goodbye to its three neighbors (who always made fun of his reluctance to be mounted in the elevator), ran the stairs to reach the apartment number 13, which would in adulthood a silly superstition that this was indeed his lucky number. There he hoped his parents and his small (and new) younger sister in a family harmony at seven years no one is able to assess, but over time becomes the most obvious symbol of happiness.
ate willingly, to the surprise of her mother, and usually not very fond of lentils, and it would take some years before they develop a taste for grain. Right in the lunch, the phone interrupted the act of eating, and he hastened to answer it (Both to prevent his father or his mother parasen to satisfy the curiosity of who might be). He shook a wave of laughter and good things when he heard the voice of his grandmother, who greeted him with a voice almost as comforting as a hug. His mother, he realized who it was, was quick to remove the headset and talked with her briefly. "Your grandmother is on Friday to stay a week," his mother said after hanging up, creating a huge smile on his face, and a bit of disdain in his father's.
When they had finished eating and his parents did nap, sat on the couch in the balcony and did not care much sounded's cartoons on television as the street, the mountains and the minimum noise that can only remember one who succumbs to nostalgia. I was there, at home, in moments of pure joy indescribable. And perhaps such joy can not be supported by a body of seven years, because on the couch he slept on the balcony, thinking about his school, his friends, his sister and looking forward to a visit from his grandmother, perhaps the only I could understand the unique situation in which he was. Ecstatic
so much happiness, he learned that he had never reconciled briefly such a deep sleep, but soon decided that at that time it was more valuable to be awake than asleep, so I decided to use all his strength to get out of this nap as soon as possible. And there was that confirmed the sad reality.
awoke, and when he did, was again a man of twenty years.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Are There Glitches On Cubefield 2
's Exile
Few know it, but the latest scientific findings show that there was a time in our moon a lot more civilized people us. What's more, this group of individuals living there long before it breaks out here. These people, whom we call "Selenite" (by our nomenclature that refuses to detach from the Greek), noted for some time to develop our young planet and expressed a great hope because Mother (as we call our Earth) sister developed a culture that, which both orbs cosmic revolve symbiotic harmony with theirs. Needless to say, this did not happen, although it sounds redundant, it should be mentioned that very little is actually known of these people, because what they suggest is that at the time of taking up the first man in bipedal adventure, the people of the Moon packed up all their civilization and went away, until who knows what confines of this or any other galaxy. They
few documents (found in deep craters and amazingly written in a language which, although totally different to those here, is without major problem so that scholars have defined as "semantics of the subconscious") that was the moon a very different place than it is now. Something worth mentioning is the fact that selenite, who did not appear to be biologically very different to us, had succeeded in creating an artificial atmosphere, as their means of production, unlike ours, clean breathable air exhaled . All their wastes were synthesized in a manner that would not have to wait centuries (or millennia) to biodegrade, and anything that could jeopardize the balance of his world was sent directly to the Sun In fact, the space race was created, more that curiosity about the universe, for his aversion to pollution and toxic.
The existence of these beings no longer a mystery which will soon be what we discover, but also explains much about the way it is "accelerated" the technological progress of mankind. And is that experts Selena (who are, so far-three) were among the inhabitants of the Moon who is dedicated, although the ordinance general not to approach Mother, to teach our apelike ancestors practical things that allow their survival, like fire, the wheel, and other technology primitive and harmless.
However, it believes that "strong dissatisfaction" (a term used to refer to separation and total repudiation of our species selenite) came when they saw what they had given selflessly to humanity had served for the first men exercising the most terrible instinct: burned, pillaged, creating round projectiles, did the most unthinkable things with the arts learned. Even the beautiful temples were erected for triangular receive the selenite in different parts of the world had become more absurd sacrifices and ritual disguised violence. Selenite was there when they realized that this furry being helpless and could never understand what it was like to live in harmony, and that if the selenite were helping them, they might give meaning to a word that did not exist in their language, and yet there in all human languages: the war.
And so they decided to leave because they could not afford to live with so unpredictable neighbors. The moon was empty, as if each one of its craters had not never been a hydraulic support for floating cities where they lived Selenite. And when they picked their people, their culture and atmosphere can not know how they felt, whether relief or sadness, because feelings are not easily Selenite understand our still rudimentary arts. What I made clear was that even among them there were those who had hoped that the knowledge they had made with humanity might as well be your salvation, but there were few who thought so.
And on a night where on earth the men were too busy looking down, the selenite is gone forever from the moon. But according to three experts in the field, there are indications that we are still watching. And every so often, when a lunar eclipse and the moon is a red opaque melancholy, overlook a small little camera that left installed to take a snapshot (human language is still too limited to accurately relate the term selenite) from every corner of our state and check occasionally.
you come back someday? No one can know. But as we found in 1969, the Moon remains a desert, like the rest of this corner of the universe where it seems no one wants to approach. And we are still here, using the cosmic wisdom for our earthly nonsense.
Few know it, but the latest scientific findings show that there was a time in our moon a lot more civilized people us. What's more, this group of individuals living there long before it breaks out here. These people, whom we call "Selenite" (by our nomenclature that refuses to detach from the Greek), noted for some time to develop our young planet and expressed a great hope because Mother (as we call our Earth) sister developed a culture that, which both orbs cosmic revolve symbiotic harmony with theirs. Needless to say, this did not happen, although it sounds redundant, it should be mentioned that very little is actually known of these people, because what they suggest is that at the time of taking up the first man in bipedal adventure, the people of the Moon packed up all their civilization and went away, until who knows what confines of this or any other galaxy. They
few documents (found in deep craters and amazingly written in a language which, although totally different to those here, is without major problem so that scholars have defined as "semantics of the subconscious") that was the moon a very different place than it is now. Something worth mentioning is the fact that selenite, who did not appear to be biologically very different to us, had succeeded in creating an artificial atmosphere, as their means of production, unlike ours, clean breathable air exhaled . All their wastes were synthesized in a manner that would not have to wait centuries (or millennia) to biodegrade, and anything that could jeopardize the balance of his world was sent directly to the Sun In fact, the space race was created, more that curiosity about the universe, for his aversion to pollution and toxic.
The existence of these beings no longer a mystery which will soon be what we discover, but also explains much about the way it is "accelerated" the technological progress of mankind. And is that experts Selena (who are, so far-three) were among the inhabitants of the Moon who is dedicated, although the ordinance general not to approach Mother, to teach our apelike ancestors practical things that allow their survival, like fire, the wheel, and other technology primitive and harmless.
However, it believes that "strong dissatisfaction" (a term used to refer to separation and total repudiation of our species selenite) came when they saw what they had given selflessly to humanity had served for the first men exercising the most terrible instinct: burned, pillaged, creating round projectiles, did the most unthinkable things with the arts learned. Even the beautiful temples were erected for triangular receive the selenite in different parts of the world had become more absurd sacrifices and ritual disguised violence. Selenite was there when they realized that this furry being helpless and could never understand what it was like to live in harmony, and that if the selenite were helping them, they might give meaning to a word that did not exist in their language, and yet there in all human languages: the war.
And so they decided to leave because they could not afford to live with so unpredictable neighbors. The moon was empty, as if each one of its craters had not never been a hydraulic support for floating cities where they lived Selenite. And when they picked their people, their culture and atmosphere can not know how they felt, whether relief or sadness, because feelings are not easily Selenite understand our still rudimentary arts. What I made clear was that even among them there were those who had hoped that the knowledge they had made with humanity might as well be your salvation, but there were few who thought so.
And on a night where on earth the men were too busy looking down, the selenite is gone forever from the moon. But according to three experts in the field, there are indications that we are still watching. And every so often, when a lunar eclipse and the moon is a red opaque melancholy, overlook a small little camera that left installed to take a snapshot (human language is still too limited to accurately relate the term selenite) from every corner of our state and check occasionally.
you come back someday? No one can know. But as we found in 1969, the Moon remains a desert, like the rest of this corner of the universe where it seems no one wants to approach. And we are still here, using the cosmic wisdom for our earthly nonsense.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Positive Opk Creamy Cervix Mucus
Selenites Entering
Few know it, but this dusty place full of fantastic gadgets, anonymous people, and reports critical fabled pilgrim is not what could be considered "open access." Yes, soil referime to him as "my cachivachero", and indeed I am the only one who gets to register your drawers with the ideal of showing the odd object of here overnight, but the truth is that the very , place (or maybe the creatures that compose it) seems at times reluctant to step on it very often. Needless to say that cachivachero has no idea what a blog, and still have some dusty attic and basement even as much mysterious, as it certainly is a place that could be up or down in my own mind. What
how it is possible that the cachivachero, still in my mind, a place that resists my presence? It also has an explanation, I think it pertinent to now that I myself have found, after a desperate search. And I must begin by saying that like all stay in a house or building, the cachivachero has a gate, one of which only I have the key, and I was given when I was born, perhaps noting that I would the guardian of such futility. I repeat that the fact that you can see it does not necessarily mean that insiders, rather than watching from a window that I have made available. Anyway, continue.
cachivachero The door is so rustic and flamboyant like him, I do not know which tree comes from the wood of which was carved, because although I dare say that carob is, perhaps varnish which betrays its appearance. But that door, crusty and old, it is most important about the entrance to cachivachero, but rather a lock, although at first sight seem that of a monastery medieval, indeed is itself also a very particular gadget.
Rusty and unfriendly, the lock that opens the door cachivachero has the quality (I would say only, but I'm sure in some other dimension that is very normal thing) to change at will, getting into trouble with the key tired (and this server) every time we enter the sea of \u200b\u200bboxes that dwells within. One day, for example, can be represented by the simplicity of a traditional lock and another day this lock may have recorded a double-headed eagle that continues to laugh aloud when you enter the wrong key, and only when it turn has taken the exact shape is that the mocking bird spreads its wings and allows the door creak with his dusty melody.
And yes, the key belongs to this same line of objects that change at whim, but rather in this case should be "at will" from other objects. Once the key whispered that she was tired of obeying the follies of that lock, and if it were not for me, had long been drained out of my pocket to rest in the depths of a sewer or lift shaft, you know, those places that they like them to keys. I thanked the soul that was so faithful a key, as others have touched me very little lead from honorable adjective.
So far no big deal it may seem the case: a lock that takes many forms and a key that fits her. But you do not have pondered on the fact that it may take days, weeks or even months, before the key has been my faithful not only to analyze the mechanism of the new shape of the lock, but changed his so that its physiognomy produce the desired tingling who crave all locks and that leads to opening of a door.
In this I have spent the months that have not been free of anxiety and sadness of not being able to show new gadgets, the eternal waiting that precedes the smell of sage and solemn pages dust off my memories, that it allows my mind is not a square, minimalist office, and every moment of the day I want to visit. For now, I've done: I have gone back to cachivachero. When you lock the capricious will to change? I do not know, I've never known. But meanwhile, try to show how many gadgets I can, lest the fidelity of my key also want to go on holiday.
Welcome, again, I cachivachero (which is also my junk, of course).
Few know it, but this dusty place full of fantastic gadgets, anonymous people, and reports critical fabled pilgrim is not what could be considered "open access." Yes, soil referime to him as "my cachivachero", and indeed I am the only one who gets to register your drawers with the ideal of showing the odd object of here overnight, but the truth is that the very , place (or maybe the creatures that compose it) seems at times reluctant to step on it very often. Needless to say that cachivachero has no idea what a blog, and still have some dusty attic and basement even as much mysterious, as it certainly is a place that could be up or down in my own mind. What
how it is possible that the cachivachero, still in my mind, a place that resists my presence? It also has an explanation, I think it pertinent to now that I myself have found, after a desperate search. And I must begin by saying that like all stay in a house or building, the cachivachero has a gate, one of which only I have the key, and I was given when I was born, perhaps noting that I would the guardian of such futility. I repeat that the fact that you can see it does not necessarily mean that insiders, rather than watching from a window that I have made available. Anyway, continue.
cachivachero The door is so rustic and flamboyant like him, I do not know which tree comes from the wood of which was carved, because although I dare say that carob is, perhaps varnish which betrays its appearance. But that door, crusty and old, it is most important about the entrance to cachivachero, but rather a lock, although at first sight seem that of a monastery medieval, indeed is itself also a very particular gadget.
Rusty and unfriendly, the lock that opens the door cachivachero has the quality (I would say only, but I'm sure in some other dimension that is very normal thing) to change at will, getting into trouble with the key tired (and this server) every time we enter the sea of \u200b\u200bboxes that dwells within. One day, for example, can be represented by the simplicity of a traditional lock and another day this lock may have recorded a double-headed eagle that continues to laugh aloud when you enter the wrong key, and only when it turn has taken the exact shape is that the mocking bird spreads its wings and allows the door creak with his dusty melody.
And yes, the key belongs to this same line of objects that change at whim, but rather in this case should be "at will" from other objects. Once the key whispered that she was tired of obeying the follies of that lock, and if it were not for me, had long been drained out of my pocket to rest in the depths of a sewer or lift shaft, you know, those places that they like them to keys. I thanked the soul that was so faithful a key, as others have touched me very little lead from honorable adjective.
So far no big deal it may seem the case: a lock that takes many forms and a key that fits her. But you do not have pondered on the fact that it may take days, weeks or even months, before the key has been my faithful not only to analyze the mechanism of the new shape of the lock, but changed his so that its physiognomy produce the desired tingling who crave all locks and that leads to opening of a door.
In this I have spent the months that have not been free of anxiety and sadness of not being able to show new gadgets, the eternal waiting that precedes the smell of sage and solemn pages dust off my memories, that it allows my mind is not a square, minimalist office, and every moment of the day I want to visit. For now, I've done: I have gone back to cachivachero. When you lock the capricious will to change? I do not know, I've never known. But meanwhile, try to show how many gadgets I can, lest the fidelity of my key also want to go on holiday.
Welcome, again, I cachivachero (which is also my junk, of course).
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Where To Get A Fake Id In Calgary
Chapter 10: The wonderful garden (Part I)
Martina, extremely organized, took the paper in which he had pointed the direction in which the stars were located on the map and went on to draw an itinerary.
"Let's see, today we might begin with these two. I do not think that gives us more time. Furthermore, we do not know how we are going into these houses, I guess that will be inhabited ... Well and we managed. Come let the car. By the way Minerva, have you taken the brooch? "He said, biting his pen victim of nerves and emotion.
"Yes, it's in my purse. Sure it's for, as the other hanging replied.
We took the car and headed to the first direction you travel, Girona street 118. On the number 118 of the map was drawn a loaf of bread and what looked like a biscuit, we thought it would be a bakery or pastry, but really had no idea. Barcelona traffic that hour of the morning was terrible. How could there be so many cars!, Was incredible. Circulating in our time only a few dozen and most of them friends and acquaintances of the family and neighborhood. I had changed everything! Finally, after what seemed like ages to us, we arrived at the address in question. We look the building and looked again and did not see any trace of anything that could remind us bread, cookies or bakery. Then, very early, left the old building next to an old man who had at least 100 years.
"Look, we could ask this man if you know of a bakery, pastry or something related to bread and cookies that may be at number 118. What do you think? - Martina said.
- Well, I think it's perfect. We have nothing to lose. Perhaps we can give an answer, "I said as Rita and Rosa nodded.
- Excuse me sir! Good morning, "said Martina.
"Good morning ladies," replied kindly the old man.
"Look, I would like to ask if you know of any bakery or pastry shop here. You have told us that there is at number 118, but not so, "said Martina eagerly awaiting a response.
- A bakery? On the number 118? Yeah ... I think so, "he said staring at three. At this
we laid eyes widened.
- Where is? Where do we go? We do not see, "continued questioning Martina.
"Well I doubt that they can enter. The number 118 was one of the most beautiful modern bakery in Barcelona. The owners were Mr Martorell, Martorell of life, a charming and lovely family. What did bread so delicious!, The best of Barcelona without a doubt. They also made some very good cookies, I have never gone to eat some cookies like those. People came from all over the city to shop here, larguíiiisimas tails were mounted. In fact I worked on her office for a time, when I was very young. Well as I said, there may never come into this bakery because, like many other stores, was torn down without mercy, instead I think a Chinese store. Martorell Forn's disappearance was a very sad moment for the neighborhood and the city-the old man told us with a melancholy air.
"Well, how about you know where we could find someone in the family Martorell? - Martina said.
"Well the truth is no. They sold the bakery and disappeared as if the earth had swallowed. Never again hear from them. In the neighborhood said they had emigrated to Argentina, but never really knew, "replied the old man.
"Oh, what a shame. Thank you for your help, "said Martina.
"You're welcome, ladies. Life happens and the old gives way to new, soon I too will be a memory that will fade with time, "said the kind man as he walked away with a parsimonious way.
"My fears have come true. This bakery gone and what I most afraid of is that the other stars of the map also have "off" ... Do you think that our cookies could get out of here? - Martina said in a tone of disappointment.
- Well, I think it is very probable. If not why was leaving a bakery on that map? - Rosa said.
- is terrible. We must retain those cookies as gold cloth because it will probably be the last ones there, "I very much affected.
The four heads bowed and we were very discouraged, we did not know if all the buildings, shops or whatever that marked those stars
had been destroyed over the years. For us it was a real sadness and desolation. Martina to see our faces of grief trying to persuade them.
"Well, we are not pessimistic. We will continue our search. Surely the rest of the houses are intact,
"Let's hope so ... - Rosa said very discouraged.
Again we took the car and headed to the following address Martina had drawn itinerary was really close before. The next star Ausias March marked the street from 1942 to 1946 and drawing numbers that appeared in that position in the map were some trees. We parked the car and we walked up the address in question and that was when we saw that in the basement of the building had two beautiful sculpted trees that seemed to support the building. We got so happy, at least this house had been demolished. The hard part would come in and find the "secret" hiding ...
We approach the portal and look through the glass. There was no concierge or porter in sight, is the interior was in very precarious conditions. So we decided to call a ring with the intention to enter and inspect.
-Let, and peak I, "said Martina pressing all buttons at once. Soon enough to answer. We thought it was normal, as he was working hours, people were not at home. Finally, a thread of voice, clearly articulated an old lady replied:
- Yes? -
"I am the portfolio. Am I open? "Said Martina. And then heard a clicking sound after the door opened.
"Of course, many alarms and security gossip then with something as simple as saying you're the mail people will open without any fear ..." Martin said with a wink.
enter the building and began to look everywhere to see if there was any sign that might indicate where we had to continue. The truth is that it was very dilapidated and in ruins. After a while searching the site without any success I noticed something moving in my bag.
Martina, extremely organized, took the paper in which he had pointed the direction in which the stars were located on the map and went on to draw an itinerary.
"Let's see, today we might begin with these two. I do not think that gives us more time. Furthermore, we do not know how we are going into these houses, I guess that will be inhabited ... Well and we managed. Come let the car. By the way Minerva, have you taken the brooch? "He said, biting his pen victim of nerves and emotion.
"Yes, it's in my purse. Sure it's for, as the other hanging replied.
We took the car and headed to the first direction you travel, Girona street 118. On the number 118 of the map was drawn a loaf of bread and what looked like a biscuit, we thought it would be a bakery or pastry, but really had no idea. Barcelona traffic that hour of the morning was terrible. How could there be so many cars!, Was incredible. Circulating in our time only a few dozen and most of them friends and acquaintances of the family and neighborhood. I had changed everything! Finally, after what seemed like ages to us, we arrived at the address in question. We look the building and looked again and did not see any trace of anything that could remind us bread, cookies or bakery. Then, very early, left the old building next to an old man who had at least 100 years.
"Look, we could ask this man if you know of a bakery, pastry or something related to bread and cookies that may be at number 118. What do you think? - Martina said.
- Well, I think it's perfect. We have nothing to lose. Perhaps we can give an answer, "I said as Rita and Rosa nodded.
- Excuse me sir! Good morning, "said Martina.
"Good morning ladies," replied kindly the old man.
"Look, I would like to ask if you know of any bakery or pastry shop here. You have told us that there is at number 118, but not so, "said Martina eagerly awaiting a response.
- A bakery? On the number 118? Yeah ... I think so, "he said staring at three. At this
we laid eyes widened.
- Where is? Where do we go? We do not see, "continued questioning Martina.
"Well I doubt that they can enter. The number 118 was one of the most beautiful modern bakery in Barcelona. The owners were Mr Martorell, Martorell of life, a charming and lovely family. What did bread so delicious!, The best of Barcelona without a doubt. They also made some very good cookies, I have never gone to eat some cookies like those. People came from all over the city to shop here, larguíiiisimas tails were mounted. In fact I worked on her office for a time, when I was very young. Well as I said, there may never come into this bakery because, like many other stores, was torn down without mercy, instead I think a Chinese store. Martorell Forn's disappearance was a very sad moment for the neighborhood and the city-the old man told us with a melancholy air.
"Well, how about you know where we could find someone in the family Martorell? - Martina said.
"Well the truth is no. They sold the bakery and disappeared as if the earth had swallowed. Never again hear from them. In the neighborhood said they had emigrated to Argentina, but never really knew, "replied the old man.
"Oh, what a shame. Thank you for your help, "said Martina.
"You're welcome, ladies. Life happens and the old gives way to new, soon I too will be a memory that will fade with time, "said the kind man as he walked away with a parsimonious way.
"My fears have come true. This bakery gone and what I most afraid of is that the other stars of the map also have "off" ... Do you think that our cookies could get out of here? - Martina said in a tone of disappointment.
- Well, I think it is very probable. If not why was leaving a bakery on that map? - Rosa said.
- is terrible. We must retain those cookies as gold cloth because it will probably be the last ones there, "I very much affected.
The four heads bowed and we were very discouraged, we did not know if all the buildings, shops or whatever that marked those stars
had been destroyed over the years. For us it was a real sadness and desolation. Martina to see our faces of grief trying to persuade them.
"Well, we are not pessimistic. We will continue our search. Surely the rest of the houses are intact,
"Let's hope so ... - Rosa said very discouraged.
Again we took the car and headed to the following address Martina had drawn itinerary was really close before. The next star Ausias March marked the street from 1942 to 1946 and drawing numbers that appeared in that position in the map were some trees. We parked the car and we walked up the address in question and that was when we saw that in the basement of the building had two beautiful sculpted trees that seemed to support the building. We got so happy, at least this house had been demolished. The hard part would come in and find the "secret" hiding ...
We approach the portal and look through the glass. There was no concierge or porter in sight, is the interior was in very precarious conditions. So we decided to call a ring with the intention to enter and inspect.
-Let, and peak I, "said Martina pressing all buttons at once. Soon enough to answer. We thought it was normal, as he was working hours, people were not at home. Finally, a thread of voice, clearly articulated an old lady replied:
- Yes? -
"I am the portfolio. Am I open? "Said Martina. And then heard a clicking sound after the door opened.
"Of course, many alarms and security gossip then with something as simple as saying you're the mail people will open without any fear ..." Martin said with a wink.
enter the building and began to look everywhere to see if there was any sign that might indicate where we had to continue. The truth is that it was very dilapidated and in ruins. After a while searching the site without any success I noticed something moving in my bag.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)