THE GUN IS SOUND MISS Somali pirates
On November 5 last year, while the Somali pirates approached the cruise ship American 'Seaborn Spirit' were affected by the sound deafening sound of the guns have been developed over years ago at the DoD (Defense of departmental) American initially to quell the riots in the streets, and called LRAD (Long Range Acoustic Device)
laws ll'articolo
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Shower Curtain Harley
COSMO SkyMed, the secret weapon ITALIAN
L ' Italian Army is not one of the best equipped in the world, indeed, the complaints of those who work there for sure.
But there is one area in which we are to excellence in the world: sector satellites.
go to the article in full
L ' Italian Army is not one of the best equipped in the world, indeed, the complaints of those who work there for sure.
But there is one area in which we are to excellence in the world: sector satellites.
go to the article in full
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Authorization Letter To Cell Phone
Diffusion And Osmosis Ap Lab
A SMS TO PARENTS warn 'the absence of children from school
Grande, Minister Brunetta! This time
llle Minister Brunetta has used new technologies to combat truancy - but we should apply to students under age -. An SMS will alert parents
read full story
Grande, Minister Brunetta! This time
llle Minister Brunetta has used new technologies to combat truancy - but we should apply to students under age -. An SMS will alert parents
read full story
Coming New Baby Wishes
THE FUTURE OF COMPUTER TABLET
I wonder how will the computer of the future?
When I was a kid I was sure: the computer, after 2000, would have the form of that used by the actors of Space 1999, a science fiction show produced by BBC in collaboration with the RAI, which many already know. Go to Article
I wonder how will the computer of the future?
When I was a kid I was sure: the computer, after 2000, would have the form of that used by the actors of Space 1999, a science fiction show produced by BBC in collaboration with the RAI, which many already know. Go to Article
Berger Paints Olive Oil
SMARTPHONE vs vs CLOCK-SMARTPHONE
Who will win the battle for supremacy of the mobile PC market?
What will be the computer of the future?
We wrote a few words about upcoming business challenge which will provide the next pc-hardware system of the future mobile
v aii Article
Who will win the battle for supremacy of the mobile PC market?
What will be the computer of the future?
We wrote a few words about upcoming business challenge which will provide the next pc-hardware system of the future mobile
v aii Article
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Jan Brown Fligth Attendant
God Of Illusions - The library
By now it was three. I closed the door and went to the library, fiddle nervously with the keys in my pocket.
It was a strange day, overwhelming. The campus seemed deserted - everyone was at the party, I thought - and the green fields, the bright tulips seemed as resigned, waiting for something under that sky littered with clouds.
Somewhere a shutter creaked. On my head, among blacks the cruel talons of an elm, jailed a kite struggled convulsively. We are in Kansas , I thought, in Kansas before it by the cyclone.
The library was like a grave, the ice from the interior neon lights made the afternoon even more gray and cold than it was.
The windows of the reading room showing shelves, trolleys, empty not a soul.
The librarian - a horrible cow named Peggy - behind the desk reading a magazine Women's Day, not looked up. The copy machine hummed in the corner. I climbed the stairs to the second floor, walked around the section of foreign languages and went into the reading room. There was no one, just as I thought, but one of the tables near the entrance I noticed a small pile of books, crumpled sheets and a bag of greasy chips.
I went: the person had come out recently, I thought. A can of grape juice, drink for three quarters, it was still cold to the touch. I wondered what to do: maybe it was just went to the bathroom and was about to fall, I decided to retrace my steps when I saw the ticket.
on a volume of World Book Encyclopedia was a piece of lined paper folded in two, with the name "Marion" written on it in tiny, uneven handwriting Bunny. I opened it and read it quickly:
old girl,
By now it was three. I closed the door and went to the library, fiddle nervously with the keys in my pocket.
It was a strange day, overwhelming. The campus seemed deserted - everyone was at the party, I thought - and the green fields, the bright tulips seemed as resigned, waiting for something under that sky littered with clouds.
Somewhere a shutter creaked. On my head, among blacks the cruel talons of an elm, jailed a kite struggled convulsively. We are in Kansas , I thought, in Kansas before it by the cyclone.
The library was like a grave, the ice from the interior neon lights made the afternoon even more gray and cold than it was.
The windows of the reading room showing shelves, trolleys, empty not a soul.
The librarian - a horrible cow named Peggy - behind the desk reading a magazine Women's Day, not looked up. The copy machine hummed in the corner. I climbed the stairs to the second floor, walked around the section of foreign languages and went into the reading room. There was no one, just as I thought, but one of the tables near the entrance I noticed a small pile of books, crumpled sheets and a bag of greasy chips.
I went: the person had come out recently, I thought. A can of grape juice, drink for three quarters, it was still cold to the touch. I wondered what to do: maybe it was just went to the bathroom and was about to fall, I decided to retrace my steps when I saw the ticket.
on a volume of World Book Encyclopedia was a piece of lined paper folded in two, with the name "Marion" written on it in tiny, uneven handwriting Bunny. I opened it and read it quickly:
old girl,
I got bored. I go to the party to take a birrino.
See you later.
B
See you later.
B
I folded the paper and I sank down on the armrest of the chair of Bunny. Usually went out for walks around one: that now, at three, had gone to the party to Jennings, it meant that they had failure.
I went back to the Commons - its red brick facade, flat like the wings of a theater, stood out against the dark sky - and I called Henry. No response. Neither of the twins at home.
The Commons was equally deserted, except for a couple of old guards and the lady in red wig who was the switchboard to knit all weekend, regardless of the incoming calls. As usual, the lights peep here and there on his telephone, and she gave them away, like the nefarious negligent telegraph operator on the Californian night that sank the Titanic . The I passed and headed for the vending machines beverages had a coffee soluble and went back to the phones. Still no answer.
hung up and I walked into empty rooms, with a copy of the newspaper of graduates under the arm, and I sat on a chair by the window and sip my coffee.
passed fifteen or twenty minutes. The Journal of graduates was depressing: it seemed that the alumni of Hampden were not able to do anything else, out of school, which opened shops in Nantucket ceramics or join a religious sect in Nepal.
threw it aside and looked out: the light was very strange, somehow made it more intense green of the lawn, so as to make it appear a stretch unnatural, almost not of this world. An American flag, solo against the purple sky, whipping back and forth on its support of brass.
I sat staring at her, then suddenly I did not do more: put on my coat and headed for the ravine.
I went back to the Commons - its red brick facade, flat like the wings of a theater, stood out against the dark sky - and I called Henry. No response. Neither of the twins at home.
The Commons was equally deserted, except for a couple of old guards and the lady in red wig who was the switchboard to knit all weekend, regardless of the incoming calls. As usual, the lights peep here and there on his telephone, and she gave them away, like the nefarious negligent telegraph operator on the Californian night that sank the Titanic . The I passed and headed for the vending machines beverages had a coffee soluble and went back to the phones. Still no answer.
hung up and I walked into empty rooms, with a copy of the newspaper of graduates under the arm, and I sat on a chair by the window and sip my coffee.
passed fifteen or twenty minutes. The Journal of graduates was depressing: it seemed that the alumni of Hampden were not able to do anything else, out of school, which opened shops in Nantucket ceramics or join a religious sect in Nepal.
threw it aside and looked out: the light was very strange, somehow made it more intense green of the lawn, so as to make it appear a stretch unnatural, almost not of this world. An American flag, solo against the purple sky, whipping back and forth on its support of brass.
I sat staring at her, then suddenly I did not do more: put on my coat and headed for the ravine.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Pokemon Shiny Gold Gameshark
God Of Illusions - Again
From the book first.
He played with taste, the sleeves rolled up, smiling, rose and fell for the eighth go-with hard syncopated rhythm of a tap dancer who goes up and down on a stairway Ziegfeld. Camilla, from the seat beside him, smiled at me, I I returned, a little 'faded. The ceilings echo spectral
postponed, which gave to the desperate hilarity the quality of a memory from the moment in which the listener, memories of things I'd ever known.
Charleston on the wings of airplanes in flight. Parties on ships that sink, cold water bubbling around the legs of the musicians strum while bravely last time Auld Lang Syne.
In fact, it was not that they were singing Auld Lang Syne on the Titanic, which sank on the night, but hymns, many hymns and recited the Ave Maria Catholic priest, the salon of the first class must have been really very like this: dark wood, potted palms, pink shades of silk billowing from the fringes. I really had a little 'too. I sat sideways in my chair, holding strong to the arms (Holy Mary, Mother of God); the floors tilt, similar to decks of a ship in distress, as if we were to slide all, including floor at the other end of the hall with a hysterical wheeee!
From the book first.
He played with taste, the sleeves rolled up, smiling, rose and fell for the eighth go-with hard syncopated rhythm of a tap dancer who goes up and down on a stairway Ziegfeld. Camilla, from the seat beside him, smiled at me, I I returned, a little 'faded. The ceilings echo spectral
postponed, which gave to the desperate hilarity the quality of a memory from the moment in which the listener, memories of things I'd ever known.
Charleston on the wings of airplanes in flight. Parties on ships that sink, cold water bubbling around the legs of the musicians strum while bravely last time Auld Lang Syne.
In fact, it was not that they were singing Auld Lang Syne on the Titanic, which sank on the night, but hymns, many hymns and recited the Ave Maria Catholic priest, the salon of the first class must have been really very like this: dark wood, potted palms, pink shades of silk billowing from the fringes. I really had a little 'too. I sat sideways in my chair, holding strong to the arms (Holy Mary, Mother of God); the floors tilt, similar to decks of a ship in distress, as if we were to slide all, including floor at the other end of the hall with a hysterical wheeee!
Why Do I Burp When I Have The Flu
God Of Illusions - The Prologue
I decided that from now on, a bit 'at a time, will post all the pieces of God of Illusions that I like better - that is, more or less throughout the book, but oh well .
Here's the last part of the prologue. The italics are mine.
"It's hard to believe that such a commotion took place because of an act for which I was partly responsible, and even harder to believe that he lived those moments - the cameras, the uniforms, the crowds that swarmed over the slopes of Mount Cataract, black like ants in a sugar bowl - without incurring a modicum of suspicion.
But going through those times is one thing, get out, unfortunately, proved to be a different kettle of fish, and though once thought to have left that pit forever, in an April afternoon long ago, now I'm not so sure.
Now all those people trying Bunny is gone, my life has come back quiet; and I came to understand that , although for years I could have imagined to be elsewhere, in Actually I've always been up there at the muddy furrows of the new wheels on the grass, where the sky is dark over the apple blossoms swaying in the breeze, and the first cold of the snow falling that night has already air.
"What are you doing here?" Said Bunny surprised when we found all four waiting.
'Well, we are looking for new ferns, "said Henry.
And after we were whispering softly in the bushes - a last look at the body and a last look around, or lost keys or glasses, you have everything? - And we then walked through the woods in single file, while I turned around to look beyond the shoots that closed the path behind me.
I remember way back, and the first snowflakes arrived solitary wandering among the pines, I remember the joy while you are crammed into the car and was recovering in the street as a family holiday, with Henry who drove all stretched between the holes and the other leaning against the front seat, chatting as children; remember too well the long and terrible night I waited, and the long dreadful days and nights that followed : I only have to look behind me because all these years slip away, and I'll see you again behind me, ravine that rises to meet me, between black and green shoots, an image that will not forsake me never.
I suppose at some point in my life, I could tell many stories, but now there are others. This is the only history that will never tell. "
I decided that from now on, a bit 'at a time, will post all the pieces of God of Illusions that I like better - that is, more or less throughout the book, but oh well .
Here's the last part of the prologue. The italics are mine.
"It's hard to believe that such a commotion took place because of an act for which I was partly responsible, and even harder to believe that he lived those moments - the cameras, the uniforms, the crowds that swarmed over the slopes of Mount Cataract, black like ants in a sugar bowl - without incurring a modicum of suspicion.
But going through those times is one thing, get out, unfortunately, proved to be a different kettle of fish, and though once thought to have left that pit forever, in an April afternoon long ago, now I'm not so sure.
Now all those people trying Bunny is gone, my life has come back quiet; and I came to understand that , although for years I could have imagined to be elsewhere, in Actually I've always been up there at the muddy furrows of the new wheels on the grass, where the sky is dark over the apple blossoms swaying in the breeze, and the first cold of the snow falling that night has already air.
"What are you doing here?" Said Bunny surprised when we found all four waiting.
'Well, we are looking for new ferns, "said Henry.
And after we were whispering softly in the bushes - a last look at the body and a last look around, or lost keys or glasses, you have everything? - And we then walked through the woods in single file, while I turned around to look beyond the shoots that closed the path behind me.
I remember way back, and the first snowflakes arrived solitary wandering among the pines, I remember the joy while you are crammed into the car and was recovering in the street as a family holiday, with Henry who drove all stretched between the holes and the other leaning against the front seat, chatting as children; remember too well the long and terrible night I waited, and the long dreadful days and nights that followed : I only have to look behind me because all these years slip away, and I'll see you again behind me, ravine that rises to meet me, between black and green shoots, an image that will not forsake me never.
I suppose at some point in my life, I could tell many stories, but now there are others. This is the only history that will never tell. "
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