Hep C More Condition_treatment

Persino il tuo dolore

looms a week, so intense I start writing to make a full of energy able to give me the strength not to surrender. I'll be back from school at three in the afternoon, lunch and try to silence a new headache, not know if any women or indisposition caused by the vortex of thoughts that I get drunk in months. Already scattered my papers and my books on the kitchen table as a reminder to a lot of work to be done as goad to my laziness, as a reproach to the unwillingness of the last days. I have to pick up the thread of my many jobs for the boys, not yet started and completed, interrupted by indolence that really can not explain, by my being focused on other things, taken as a whole are battling unsuccessfully with an army too well armed with worries and concerns.
I traveled by car rather than take the train today, to give me an hour and a half hours of sleep, to be free from expectations unnerving station, to be able to get home an hour pretty decent. Journey of thoughts and memories. I wanted to stop and greet the Hospice nurse who accompanied us on that terrible month, are days that I'd do it, but every time I go up the ramp of the expressway, that "Grosseto center" that indicates the path towards' hospital, the foot pushes on the accelerator and automatically prevents me to turn right. So I see my eyes away from that big huge building that houses the suffering of many who welcomed my mother with an immense love, cuddling up to the last day, and I feel that they are not yet ready to cross that door and come back with the body in a place that I have not abandoned the thought. Because in the end though always around from one extreme to another in this beautiful coast, I am always in the closet and goes over the space, I can still feel the smell, and I still see her in that bed, always serene, always smiling, convinced that he would come home, unable to believe that she is abandoning them to go somewhere, happy to live this wonderful life despite the pain, suffering, legs properties that allowed it to make even one step. Then while driving home with his smile in my mind, I really think this is the best gift that my mother did to me: his smile always at all times, lifting her eyes to heaven and enjoy a sunny day, his unbounded love for all. So my solitary thoughts, spontaneously materialized in my face finally relaxed, have flown a year ago, in December to a sunny back from another hospital and I saw it, straight out of an operating room, walk past the cemetery and take game and then fly to center to buy a dress for a party around the corner, waiting for toast to a new year, perhaps the last.
I have no consolation to death, I closed the door to transcendence, my atheism leaves me silent in the face of his death and I do not live in my mother's no heaven, no supercelestial, if not that of my soul, so now colonized by his presence. And I saw her today, I felt more than ever. And I heard you ask me not to complicate this difficult journey inauguratosi by his loss and suffering more, so much aggressive as superfluous. I heard her ask me to shake these pains, these anxieties and enjoy every moment without paralyzed in an unreasonable and unwarranted expectation, without fixed in a heated imagination that makes me give birth to things that are not here and that makes me paint people who accompany me with colors that are not their own, building it in my image and likeness, only to discover that none of this failure is that the fruit of my imagination. Guido and I think, feel, continuous to speak, to ask questions noisy waiting to dig into my consciousness its written response to me. And now she finally invited me to smile, not to suffer this nonsense, not to weep for those who simply proves himself, not to be angry for the fall, once again, the pitfalls of my desires. I see my city coming up, are so immersed in the thoughts that I drive more than the usual output (that is, by chance, not to exceed in order to read the name ????) and I enjoy the sight of the sea, the island Elba, Corsica in the distance and let myself in a whisper that comforts me, that reassures me. I think what you have taught me not to let trapped by false problems, reflect on forza con cui lei abbia riso in faccia alla malattia e sbeffeggiato il dolore e canticchio fin sotto casa:
“ meraviglioso, ma come non ti accorgi di come il mondo sia meraviglioso
persino il tuo dolore potrà guarire poi
meraviglioso
ma guarda intorno a te
che doni ti hanno fatto
ti hanno inventato il mare
Tu dici non ho niente
ti sembra niente il sole
la vita, l'amore....”

Seattle Pacific Science Center Coupon

Riconciliazioni



Passeggio da sola per il lungomare dove sfilano i carri. E' una domenica di sole, con le nuvole grigie sul punto di piovere that pile up on the horizon and are concerned about the organizers of the carnival and the owners of the banquet of roast pig and sweets. I decide to walk alone and to see a little 'the waterfront of my city, to savor the scents, vivisection spaces.
Finally today there seems to be a bit 'of warmth in the air, a mild wind that warms my bitterness and melts my fears, so identical to themselves and properties to look for ice.
walk lightly, move the eyes all around, petrified and masked children who immortalized the attack with blows of confetti in a war involving everyone, young and old. On the beach a "King Carnival" is waiting for paper mache to be burned at the stake and evaporate into the air, giving the scent of iodine and salt than the typical grain of burning on the last Sunday of Carnival. Then think of how sacred we children waited for us this solemn farewell ceremony Sunday in the mask and how sad they placed the clothes in cupboards cleverly constructed by motherly hands. I think back to the waiting party, the choice of the suit, his afternoons at the sewing machine and the help of the loving aunt who I still see far immortalized in its beauty. Relive our frantic racing, our theater in reciting the deeds of our masks, the screams of mothers spent to call to quiet, to make a point to a day that we would never end.
I realize that this wandering aimlessly today is nothing more than the celebration of my reunion with the city for years in my time so alien and so far from my desires, the recovery of confidence after a long absence. This focus my eyes on girls in masks and their mothers is to seek a temporary reconciliation between the edges of my soul, so torn apart after his death. And finally, remember to smile, I keep quiet for a moment the noisy conflicts that agitated me, carefully honing the sharp edges of my being, always in perpetual battle with himself. Now, at home, with the silence that congeals, I welcome this Sunday, as simple as it is intense, which seems to me a little 'back to myself.

Ortho Total Kill Inscet Killer

Landslide

I allow myself a little respite from a heavy week, once I wrap the warm notes of Einaudi and try to find some 'of relief from this heavy headache that accompanied me this morning, perhaps because of this sleep by months intermittent. I look in the mirror and see my face was not tired, his eyes are heavy and restless, as if to escape a series of thoughts that surround me and chase. Sonia calls and asks me to leave next week for a pizza ... I respond with enthusiasm has dropped the phone. A flood of memories come Gavinana Square and the house looks very much loved and con ansia di vederla, ancora una volta per ricucire uno strappo e per osservare la tessitura del suo tempo, adesso un po' distante dal mio. Prendo tra le mani il libro di Amos Oz che sto leggendo, lo trovo ancora una volta quasi illeggibile, decido di riporlo nella libreria, tra i tanti libri non finiti, ma decido che si tratta di una battaglia fra me e lui e lo appoggio sul comodino, in attesa di un ennesimo round. Provo a studiare ma ancora una volta le mie energie sono tutte concentrate su me stessa e mi sento un'estranea fra le righe di quei libri, vorrei correre ma fuori tira un vento pazzesco e la fatica sarebbe troppa da sopportare. Vorrei mia madre oggi, anche solo per prenderle quell'esile visino tra le mani e coprilo di baci, rimandando a domani le tante questions. Seeking relief from this emotional encirclement in the practice of writing almost daily, I discover how words are comforting and trap, a safe haven after a violent shipwreck and played catch with my emotions, forced into a sentence of forced immobility of the paper, bound in a portion of the vocabulary that I would like to infinite. So much remains unsaid out the door, a pile of indecipherable thoughts crowded, difficult to strings that are impossible to translate the lucidity of the text.
reflect on time today, on my time. This morning I watched my students and tried to fight my way through the images of nebulae a tremendously this yesterday, trying to break down, and ended in small units, the events dei miei anni, provavo a ripercorrere i binari della mia esistenza, tentando invano, di sfuggire agli assalti dei miei continui “ma se...”. Mi viene in mente Bergson adesso, la sua illuminante distinzione tra tempo cronologico e tempo interiore e capisco che questo atomizzare i miei trentaquattro anni è proprio una perdita di tempo e di energie. Infatti intuisco che non si tratta di istanti che si succedono l'uno all'altro come le perle di una collana, bensì di una continua e infinita congiunzione, di un intreccio ininterrotto. Scovo le sue parole in un libro ormai impolverato sul più alto scaffale della libreria: “E', se si vuole, lo svolgersi di un rotolo, perchè non c'è essere vivente che non si senta arrivare, gradually, at the end of the party to act, and live is aging. But it is also, as a continuous roll, like a thread on a ball, because our past is behind us, and swells of this non-stop harvesting on its way. " In short, my time is an avalanche, which leaves nothing behind in his self and grows down into the valley. Too bad that today I feel like we crushed.

"... he gets there, kneeling in exchange for a caress, as he told the lover to his beautiful without legs, without arms" (Amos Oz, Do not say night).