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immobility

Even a stopped clock tells the time right twice a day. H. Hesse

Russia-families-naturism.com

Any excuse for a killing (ie: the great, unexpected return of two wheels)

Here they are: they are again. A hot sun so this is making too much spring in February and no time to lose, you feel good without the sun without scarf and gloves. The bitter cold of a few weeks ago now seems a distant memory. Like ants with a drop of honey, such as women with the last dress on sale at 70% .. it took a few warm rays of sun to bring them back en masse and rage. Them bikes. Turn machine has become an enterprise considering the constant risk of smudging indelibly conscience and no criminal record. They acted quickly and silently this morning, feeling a reassuring warmth in the air, are now willing to battle stations, certain not to leave even a round or a discovery intersection.

So there was the nice guy he thought was a good idea to cross across the street just around the bend. But even more frightening is the lady of the unconscious boys-in-bike.

Mrs. Cycling is a double jeopardy: not only you never know what could be done, but even she knows. Loads of shopping bags hanging from arms and handlebars, with the basket full of bread and rack supported by the latest issue of Who and Novella 2000, the lady-in- limps bike (usually way) and swings from side to side dangerously. At a time when a car peeps from the beginning of the street, that's the lady part in the attack: a foot off the pedal and try to place it on the ground to slow down while the other continues to ride. Of course, the leg is too short and does not reach the road. So the lady-in-bicycle shall seraphic, defying gravity, more and more unstable and dangerously unbalanced on two wheels, skidding to the side of the road. Many are the questions in the mind of the driver to come: what will you do? Stifle or continue? But above all we will do it? It 'a snap: the machine goes and the road is free again. Thanks I do not know at what capacity the preposterous lady-in-BIKE able to recover the balance, to bring the foot on the pedal and continues as if nothing had happened. But one thing scares me even more: Gesture .

The gesture is nothing more than the threatening stick their arm suddenly to the right or left (on the heel of the medium). The gesture is always unexpected and compelling: it is an order that you can not subtract.

A man on a bicycle went this morning on the white line separating the lanes of the road when suddenly: the gesture. The terror in my eyes: When will run, but more importantly, where? Where?! Of course, cutting across a couple of lanes. In these cases, the yield is the only solution to quell'autoritario "Oh, I ride, then see you." We can not respond in any way: it is a card invincible ... praying that the brakes hold up.

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Contagion pessimistic

What immense burden of our fears. Ours, I would use this plural, because they are convinced that no one-to As can swear to the contrary-is immune. The fear seems the most universal of human emotions: what other state of mind, in fact, accompanies us always, every day, and unites us all, without distinction? Fear is part of us. E 'at the same time irrational, because we can not explain, and rational, because we can control it, defeat it, learn to live with it, curbed. I will not go into the details of illnesses or ratings (not that I need to explain that fear can have in different ways and at different levels): I think, as I write, only to myself and the fear of the future. The fear of not doing enough, not to realize a dream and not even able on trying to get-a-day far too many regrets. Not to be happy. being forced instead to settle: what will be, and whatever happens we will call it happiness. not, at least for me, constant anxiety that accompanies me breath by breath, every day. And 'subtle. He hides, he lets forget the thousands of thoughts and daily tasks and then, at night, when I least expected, crops up outside. Every time I'm amazed, every time that thought scares me like the first. I should be used, instead of every night and start again from the presentations: pleasure, my pleasure, what are you doing here does not t'aspettvo, I do, tell the future. With a degree of resigned serenity I started thinking of being ordered: the choice of not wanting to satisfy a standard is too high to hope for true happiness.