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The sweet submission

The view of the night color as the purple or hot pink or some shade of deep blue almost black attract the depths of the enchanted city by night brings out its depth all the sensuality that day, pitiless, asleep. Predators and prey chase, they look, they sniff the air. Everything is a bustle, bargaining, a swarm of life that the first light of dawn fades ...

's midnight on Friday when Michael returned from Turin to work decide to stop at the disco pub "The Scratch" on the road between Cuneo in Mondovi, but could be anywhere else on the continent as the landscape opens before him, like a painting by Edward Hopper transcends typical of the place: industrial, discount, cheap restaurants, gas stations and a livid sky in late January that accompanies it on this trip to the entrance of the nightclub. Ring the bell and after a few minutes to open Veronique: a beautiful black female and the heady scent impregnated him to stay for several days. Her hair in a bun stopped by a red silk ribbon and wearing a very low-cut little black dress, encircling the neck and a flashy gold necklace and rings, earrings and bracelets galore. Veronique his way to his client within the local sway over a pair of high heels, then with a sign warns the bartender did not want to be disturbed for any reason, and retires to his office. The bartender, a young black girl with a very short miniskirt that reveals two perfect legs sheathed in a pair of boots, wild and aggressive attitudes of a panther removed from their homeland and forced to live among us with costumes that are not your invites Michael to sit down and hands him a list of drinks . Two men at the bar drinking vodka talking about sports, without concern for what's going on around, on a sofa in front of a guy dozes Maghreb a video of Lady Gaga. The music blasting at full volume.

Lying with delight on a bench, sip a devilish blue phosphorescent Nadia.

E 'alone.

Also this day is over and the night is of a merciless light haunted the city gloomy and sublime as his desire to love. Despite the exhausting day of work she needed to leave. You may avoid going home at dawn every day, but he thinks that life in the home to get out of hand. All the preparations: the dress of black voile, makeup, hairstyle are weapons against the enemy that does not allow delay: solitude.

A feeling of incompleteness, the incentive to jump into the world and when it comes out that feeling is stronger because it is compared to other inaccuracies.

The ephemeral is manifested in all its intensity: perfumed powders her skin color of the moon, yet a minute and voila eyelashes are ready to face the city attractive.

Anyone will be able to create beauty will save the abyss of madness. In the scenario of this shining night damn let that life go through his body wrapped in veils, that street noise innondino the ears and the neon signs of the pierce like knives.

allow the winter froze the blood and not rebel against it.

By staring into the thoughts do not realize that Michael is watching with the desire. A few minutes later the bartender arrives at his table with a fruit cocktail offered by his admirer, Nadia finally turns his attention to him the nod, a bold gesture that reciprocates with a smile, as this night feel like prey invites him to her table.

to guess that this man has over forty is anything but beautiful, but cold in this desert could warm her heart as she could warm his: it will be a high feet tall and weigh one hundred pounds, wears his hair graying hair on his shoulders that frame the face chubby and cute, has a two-day beard and blue eyes and clear. He walks toward her with his hand in glass. Sit on the couch the discussion touches the usual superficial arguments, it comes to travel, or rather monologue Nadia leaves him on his travels on that because she does not know anything except what their friends tell. \u0026lt;'I am the best beaches in the Canary Islands or those of Santo Domingo?>> asks him throwing names at random just to liven up a little' discussion, the rest to her, Canary Islands, Santo Domingo, Ibiza, etc.. .. do not give a damn, a place or the other, humanity is always the same, is not that if you move better!

would like to spend the night with him, the rest not interested, so offers adventure to get out of there, he finishes his drink with a "bomb" and travel to the exit where the cold air regenerate them. Along the road there is a pension that is just for them, anonymous and fairly clean, not even ask him the documents.

Since the time permnette lies not have to be themselves ...

Nudity frightens both because it clears the internal argument: she is afraid of appearing awkward and he was no longer a youngster, despite this desire does not want to diminish in intensity, do not listen to reason and mocks their weaknesses. And so when Michael asks her to open up to him, she accepts it as you accept your fate.

At dawn, when the day falls on him mercilessly hastily retrieve their clothes mixed in a shapeless heap, and go towards the center.

Cuneo that come into play are the seven, they sleep, the storm of emotions and is consuming all that remains is the remains of a night of excess, unkempt beard and his headache and mental prostration her. In a bar in Piazza Galimberti Capuchin Order and croissants with jam, they are hungry. Then the phone exchanging greetings with the promise to meet again, although both are aware that this will not happen.

Michael gets in his car, an unexpected ray of sunshine breaks through the winter sky, puts on dark glasses because the glare bothers him, then turn on the stereo and runs away somewhere. Michael flees because he is afraid, runs away because happiness refers to when it will be something different from what it is, because it escapes the noise of a jackhammer's booming in the brain, stunned.

Nadia, however, walking the deserted streets of Cuneo, is Saturday. He feels that is wrinkled, sticky, sleepy and depressed. He can not wait to go home, take a bath, wear clean underwear and sleep, taking leave for a few hours by humanity.

Alessandro Dattilo

Monica Bellucci

Animations Of How To Do Tricks On A Techdeck

Reflection on Marcel Proust

I may call this book fiction? And 'maybe something less, and much more: the very essence of my life here, distilled, without addition, which glue the cracks of hours. And this is no excuse for my laziness. I would have protected from the weather, work the land, away from direct sunlight and place, so to speak, my life in a better position. When the view of nature, sadness, those rays that from time to time, we do not lighted, shine upon us, I am freed from the ice for a moment of social life ...

Marcel Proust

Marcel Proust
Auteuil (Paris), July 10, 1871 - Paris, November 18, 1922

Inevitably, you will return at least in spirit, in the places where we were happy.

This is the essence of all of Proust's work. His writing reflects a crystal valued a hypothetical himself. The childhood, adolescence and maturity of the writer-protagonist limited in that inner circle that was the French bourgeoisie of the early twentieth century. At a time when the middle class appropriated the intellectual and artistic life of the country, hitherto undisputed domain of the aristocracy. Thanks to this "takeover" Marcel Proust was able to impose his ideas in the best Parisian salons.

His particular point of view of the culture remain in the history of modern thought "exclusive" this talented writer. In fact, he was not the initiator of any literary movement, there left no school, no students had Like many writers, his contemporaries and did not change anything about his life after the fame that came from the publication of the third volume of the saga that is "In Search of Lost Time": "In the shadow of blossoming girls" with whom he won the Prix Goncourt. Despite his immense knowledge, he would not do the intellectual foundation of his art, which is not supported by the scholarly work that is being built, but with the sensitivity that should be developed through the memory of what we were and hence with the consciousness of who we are. Marcel Proust counted for more sensations, memories, free association of ideas to the notional knowledge. He

made no distinction between the different expressions of beauty with which life wonder: what is enjoying a sunset visit the cathedral of Chartres or a gown by Jeanne Paquin, placed a bouquet of flowers as a table centerpiece is art as much as a painting by Jean Siméon Chardin. This view made him pass in the eyes of representatives of the official culture of the time as a writer a bit 'of manner, rebuked the while recognizing the talent, a narrative form excessively cured at the expense of content. Anatole France called his first book "Pleasures and Days" is a fragrant bouquet, just to emphasize this sweetness.

The constituent element of the work Proust is a reflection on existence.

On the ideal state of emotional fulfillment and emotional that rightfully belongs to everyone and instead succumbs to the cruel laws of the social system, which we are subject. This constraint environment is reflected in the characters of the work that reflect the behavior of us all, with a defensive attitude, drama, comedy and unreasonable that hinder what should be the natural flow of life. The author portrayed the characters of his story with Ticci, the pettiness, the passions and causes that pushed them to specific actions, with such subtlety as to make it real, so much so that he never knew whether Albertine, the duchess Orianne of Guermantes rather than Robert Saint-Loup or Baron Charlus were real people or were the fruit of his imagination. We must bear in mind that in the years when Marcel Proust took part in the French cultural and social life, at least in the class began to emerge more enlightened psychological theories of Sigmund Freud (1856-1939), which certainly influenced him, too. In this regard it is interesting to the opening of the fourth volume of the work entitled "Albertine disappearance":

\u0026lt;\u0026lt;The Miss Albertine he's andata!>> Like, most of psychology itself, suffering knows a lot on psychology!

What comes to us with a masterpiece is the product of the imagination of an artist. What is objectively Mr. Proust in his books we'll never know, because it is impossible to penetrate its inner workings. The historical events in the work Proust, in my view only half were cleverly used by the author for further consolidation of what was his true intent, which express all aspects of human nature, romantic and dramatic.

The novel opens with the little Marcel: a child very intelligent, sensitive and fragile, belonging to a patriarchal family and traditional, where the privileged social position imposes on them a strict protocol. In this cold environment, the only moment of tenderness the child is in the long kiss goodnight, that gives him his mother before going to sleep. His desire is to prolong this moment forever. "In Search of Lost Time" is the work that fulfills the desire of the little Marcel, making infinite moment, as with his swinging timeline that subverts any notion of plot, propels us into a transcendent dimension in which the concept of time it's just a mindset. In this work the cause of this can be addressed in different ways: as a memorial, as a historical novel or moral or just isolate certain parts. Or, like me lost in the nostalgic atmosphere and dense images of beauty that is essentially the revelation, the ultimate goal of existence.

Alessandro Dattilo

Paris

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The star Maria Cristina Carmina thinking interprets the March 8

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Maria Cristina Carmina

Greetings to all!