Tick Infestation In Home Natural Methods

DATED AUGUST MOON NIGHT

was on November 9, 1989. We drank beer in a seedy bar. I remember Hugo, a young Socialist leader of the faculty of education, recited (because the song was not given), a song Sabina, then a total unknown in Chile. Were planning for our area, the last month of the campaign leading to Patricio Aylwin to power, and us to democracy. Early would be parents of a flawed system, not middle children of cruelty and madness. "So am I without you ..." , Hugo repeated the smoke and the jokes, when suddenly the room erupted in a scream that filled our hearts dry more gibberish: "idiots wall has fallen, fell the wall ...". And Berlin festival was also the feast ours. The Germans had shot down 28 years of infamy, and we were getting ready to shoot down symbolically, 17 bayonets, torture and exile. They pulled down the 12th km of hateful separation, we were beginning just to remove the barbed wire that divided by 4,000 kms., To Chile for truth silenced the truth of Chile decreed. They did what they had on hand. We would do it a month later with a single vote. The German had begun despite the August 13, 1961, our Sept. 11, 1973.

But each era has its own walls and today, despite almost borderless travel from country to country, and have democracy in most of them, we split further inequity, abuse and concentrations of wealth, patents, newspapers and the power of weapons in a few hands. I am sure that if last night, drinking rum with friends then, in that dark little bar that no longer exists, Hugo had chosen the same Sabina (now a celebrity in the country), and have recited: "My hiding place My treble clef, my wristwatch, a lamp of Ali Baba in a hat, I knew that spring would last a second, I wanted to write the most beautiful song in the world ... I wanted write the most beautiful song in the world. "

Waffle Cone Recipe Martha Stewart

Amadeo expected that night that happened just as all night. Truly expected nothing but the day ended like so many others. The man was a guy in his forties, short and somewhat rested and prematurely bald. The same condition gave him a look of old, and added that it is seriously frowned and on-demand, which seemed to begin or complete their half baldness. Amadeo Luna got off the bus, which continued its race to the south. lit a cigarette, as was their custom before reaching the house, so your mother does not claim at the smoke, the cough and asthma that plagued. Calmly loaded the bread bag on one shoulder, with special joy and blew the last of his cigarettes. Came to light several times, which used to press a button to cross the street, pressed it, sat the bag on the other shoulder and stepped on the cigarette smoking to extinguish. Right index finger straightened his glasses, and crossed the road quickly.

Once on the other hand, he turned suddenly to probe behind their backs. It seemed that someone was watching her walk and was neglected. A strange aura was standing next to the round pillar of light that he had turned before crossing. He did not know for sure if the profile or imagined watching what was there before him. Readjusted his glasses, not believing what appeared to be in seconds, an image without form, and others, a figure almost perfect himself. He took off his glasses in a stupid gesture. He put the bag on the floor pan. His shoes added two steps to the sidewalk, back. At the edge of the street stopped to watch silent, the shadow, which could now identify their own face, also pressed the same button used. Burning transpired, as always in the evenings at the bakery where he worked, when the shadow with their own ways, eased the stride to leave the sidewalk directly into it. He did not know whether to flee, stay there motionless as he was, or to cross to him. He was surprised frozen in sweat, telling a cop the abuse had occurred. Looked slightly the deceased, frown somewhat stiff and bald head, while recognizing these distinctive marraquetas scattered around him.
Work: Women and bird under the moonlight, Joan Miró

Happy Gilmore's Initial Velocity

grape leaves

" Good News:

The land is recovered in a million years.

we who disappear "

--------" The mistake was

to believe that the earth was our

when the truth of

things is that we are of the earth "

Ecopoemas , Nicanor Parra