Radio Shack Receipt Policy

It is so much talk in the newspapers of Italy at this 21st-century provincial society clerical-TV, the 'horror' of a father who using the rule of law (and who thinks more recommended that the country of fixers and there really?) has obtained leave of his daughter, the blood of his own blood, by imprisonment of 17 years from a body that allows her only to breathe, without any consciousness that is life itself. A young woman who for 17 years can not smile, can not cry and feel sorry, can not give a hug to those who love her, can not say I love the ears of those who are losing the memory of his voice.
Be aware, have knowledge of the world around him, who breathes with difficulty over your head trying in vain to take away the breath of life, is a fundamental constituent of the dignity of the human person "dignity" that is the result of cultural and social process by which a man finds his place in the world, 'self-recognition by other self-consciousnesses', to use Hegel. Losing your dignity because it is completely dependent on a breathing machine, five or six infusions to prevent any lethal infection, or simply to urinate, or to feed a body of a milky substance that prevents weight loss and identity, is to lose life. E 'strong, I know, but I say it with blood in his eyes, the same now as I write watching my father, who consumes every day, two months after the commencement of "persistent vegetative state": a strong father and Smart, who is now reduced to helplessness crying out for a bad dream or grinding his teeth furiously, into the skin and young in spirit, barricaded himself in some kind of world away. "Condemned to die is not" exactly as we close family members (the others have vanished after the first few weeks) but we are "condemned to live."
is strongly and deeply saddened to write a living will in large letters "from living the last days of life without the dignity that belongs to me," and not with equal force to those who hide behind the hypocrisy of a cattolicheggiante alleged ethics (which justifies wars and atrocities) without knowing anything about this state of non-life.
Holy

Science Project Called Dancing Raisins

Sangria

Ingedienti for a liter of sangria:

1 liter of wine (sweet) 100 g

clear vodka brandy 100 gr 100 gr
sprite
50 cloves
a spoonful of cinnamon sugar

150 grams of a sruzzata
100g lemon fruit (pears, apples, peaches, oranges ..)

Wet Close To Period. Pregnant?

Consciousness and dignity in a moment .. From Istanbul to Jimma

I'm often asked these days are terrible on the incredible power of words .. on their ability to confuse, to say or deny, to suggest emotion and define incontrovertible facts. Torrents of words that arise from diffuse sources of humanity, who lived with their aspirations and possible limitations and frustrations. An endless flow of ideas by people unknown who stand with their certainties held by swollen important words, incommunicable by specialists in their presumed communicability of conviction ... Blathers, I know, but the explosion of a time when everything seems fluid, impenetrable.

My father is in a coma for the past month, following a serious intervention into the aorta, dissected in a few minutes, and cerebral ischemia that brought him briefly to a vegetative state from anoxia. Barely alive but in critical condition every hour, seemingly without conscience, according to the judgments of doctors Lecce .. but aware of what happens, we believe that children already missing her look far and deep.

Everything happened in the first week of December and wretched, while away from him and the people I love most was there in the mountains of an unknown country, including monkeys and banana trees as old as man, in the midst of those who wants me well but at the same time the illusion of a freedom that I shall never be entirely because they are too remote .. And pretending freedom, who has lost all of me .. my own eyes, along my nose and my lively irancodia, my shortcomings and my strengths, the things I believe, the things that I think the people I like and I avoid those, love for the intelligence ignorance and the need for the subject, the confidence man for man, kindness and modesty, always knowing how to judge kindly and never with malice, the smile for everything even the sorrows of life, its surprises , its unpredictability.

Anything and everything he taught me is my father .. intelligence, kindness, modesty.

Please Daddy, come back between us, come out of this unnatural state to sit still at our supper table for the holidays, I will tell you of Africa and its dusty roads, the air in your hair as you fly between the villages of mud and teeming with people, and you tell the good power, social power that exists if you ask and you do not order if you are modest and sincere just like you told me. I'll tell you how much things are distant neighbors, of my plans for life, of my future. Listening to Fado dad, and it saddens me even more .. but music is the soul, and it is impossible not to cry as I'm doing now.

your Holy