Tuesday, August 25, 2009

How To Size A Basketball Jersey

act of love


[August 21, in portu Russu. document and photos: vs]

There is a reef in beautiful Badisco, in the 'fold' of Portu Russu. The stone takes on in some places, is rust, as if he had absorbed the essence of the earth, allowing small terraces overlooking falls to rest. A narrow, quiet that calms every current and the wind. Days ago, a great shoal of fish and filled the bottom looked like a meadow to graze. You can imagine the sparkling underwater, the sudden leaps and maneuvers that were opened were opened as the fireworks in our skies in the nights of the Saints. Places as the coast of Salento is full, each with its own with its unique inner beauty. Everyone, if you go to visit these days of late summer, 'wounded' neglect. The rock of Portu Russu find it all decorated with cigarette butts. The fury of the defect is known, makes it insensitive and many smokers are in a bathing suit: what's better than a "bbella cigarette" before and after a swim? Much more for sure! But the vice is vice, not govern. And not everything that governs it follows that, as it was en plein air, taste it leaves a trace and go, each cigarette smoked a cigarette butt is abandoned, to be set, with warm colors in the slots, the recesses, in the cracks of the rock. That obsession!

An advertisement in recent days has been conveyed in the pages of major newspapers, told the pollution of a beach. There was sand and then everything normally, with absolute 'innocence' chooses to leave, supplied information for the biodegradability of a time: a tissue 'disappeared' in four weeks. Just right? Comforted?! Read on ... But before giving the numbers, I want to inform you that the fold of rock of Portu Russu, was an act of love back to its integrity and beauty (see photo). An act of love that we hope will become contagious and spread, becoming common behavior. Mode of travel and stay in places. A newspaper it takes six weeks while a glossy magazine from 80 to 10 months. A fool match six months, a lighter 100 years. A cigarette butt one year or more, a cigarette without filter (grazieaddio!) 3 months. A chewing gum 5 years. An aluminum can 10 years. A plastic bag 500 years and more, wool cloth and put us between 8 and 10 months and horror of the synthetic fabric 500 years and more. A plastic bottle 'resists' almost 100 years. Towels and diapers 200 years. Phone cards 1000 years while the time of the glass bottles is not known. I read that glass is the most important material to recycle because it takes a ton to produce 1.1 tons of sand, soda ash, limestone and large quantities energy and water. Recycle saves about 95% of the resources used as raw materials. It still sticks cotton fiock we see on the beaches are thrown into the water, floating in our seas and in our rivers for years and they suffocate the fish. The plastic bags that do not go to landfill and that end up in our waterways bring serious consequences to the animals that inhabit them who die accidentally suffocated. And so much more if you look around the right information on what is happening in this wretched time!

"No more tourists," I wrote yesterday, the headline a summer course dedicated Salento. Yeah, 'never again' suicidal thoughts for a land that wants to turn to the travel industry. Appreciate that both goal and aims to become a tour operator. They waste words, propositions and projects. It says 'Quality Tourism' (which makes "chic and very nice") but not 'sustainable tourism' or 'Responsible Tourism'. We invite people to consume, consume, consume but not to respect the object and the place of their consumption. So you can think of to turn this boarding broken tee and a port conscious and aware. There is a difference between tourist and traveler? One would think. In this difference we could find the key to a policy of accepting no more subject to market forces but stronger its virtues and its peculiarities.
MM

Sunday, August 23, 2009

Funny Save The Date Text

As if the guilt ...

Melpignano See you in!

can not come to his friend Fernando! She takes a nervous that filled him with red spots. An allergic reaction that requires explanation 'philosophical' to subside. Given, for this world that no longer recognizes. For his Salento that no longer recognizes. For the 'human' around that no longer recognizes.
He says: "If they're here to hear this music, which recommends memory care, then it is strong ties that overwhelm you with their desire to consume, consume, consume? If you choose this sea, this landscape, then how come all these smells betray cards, cigarette butts, plastic, glass and sloppy with their behavior, disrespectful, arrogant? ".
can not come! He wants to cry out, shirtless, screaming. Never forget the ancient dignity of things, he is in the nostalgia. Still is, the great beard of wisdom and simplicity of his mother. The white shirt of his father and the strong smell of earth. Your adventure is with leaks, curious amazement.
He stops, his friend Fernando, vulnerable and disheartened, Salento ago as his silence. And listen, and watch taken from the bodies, the sounds! It is stronger than him! As if that 'guilt' of which so much has heard, read, experienced now covers no more than one, or, in love and lost, but many. Many. He and everyone around. Everyone, absolutely everyone, without exception.

Melpignano See you in? Today it happens! Back! The moon is
clove in the sky. Tenuous new crescent moon. Fa birth, hope! Confused with a mystery understood gray orange and the sun comes down, it sinks! It is night. See you in
Melpignano, there is the dance that everyone is looking for: that continuously rely on the love ... the taste of the salt taste, his tongue I wash the sea!

'Nnanana nnanana beddhu is love and there is lu sape '
everyone danced and danced hard. ..

Ah! Bua! The evil and illness. What is the antidote? At bua, bua to! What about the torture, the 'not' taking and cheating?
"Love your dignity as men, even if locked in uncertainty of the flesh" recommends inviting the oracle Christopher. We
,
we came , the Golden Horde us, here Melpignano.
"perceives the Holy Church? You see? It is the same one that opens the Taranto Mingozzi, remember? The flicker of the titles in black and white, the text makes the story of Quasimodo and a distant land appears white, dry, dry. A road, a cart and the ruins of the Temple. Is this now to see that painting of light. "
If taste is the taste of my sacred sounds - the theory of the stalls, the smell of nuts and candy floss - the gap feeds the heart, the solemn of a band. The chase and find angels suspended in the light of yesterday with no name in ink in the news: angels blacks, lost in the sea, abandoned. There
smile there! There is no identity and there! There is no fear there.

Everything kneads his creed. And you see the terror mingled with the joy. It's all about balance! Is this vertigo culture: each is essential. Everything that is, he writes. Also what will soon be forgotten is the test.
"Do you hear the sounds 'associated with the string'? The starlings Thanksgiving? ". "My wealth is health" and sing the old Aloisi thanked the medical department of Orthopaedics of Galatina (Galatina, where it operates Santu Paulu) that allowed him to go on stage the big night. "Na, na, and, and na" stisa entries to make the scratch and the creep of the show. "What is being sullied life in prison for eternity" or feeling "about whether you were the lover miu nu me tarantata Jehu." Here's the key: If you were my lover ... I was saved. Love again, the deep feeling that avoids tarantata be, to be owned by the lack. The Salento is
tarantata now, it's 'she' in the search. He did not rest, did not dance step that could save her, there is no devilish barber to accommodate the violinist. There are more than losing the little steps on the damask of Mary, in the depths of the house. That representation, the tragic, the will of a well of peace.
There! Missing! Now that re-bite, the circle of pain, has been done offshore, large. It's party only. Only party?

"Salvation and friendship is the first love" someone is singing from the stage and read on the strings of violins and mandolins that runs the fray. "Did you hear the names?"
Fabrizio, the Fernanda, the master Stifani. Even their angels. Custodians of our altroculturale. They want substance and courage. Is not this the party? Renewal: to dare, still live there! Look what you do not know, that we may never know, swallowed up in the secrets of the night for everyone. Mystery of crickets, cicadas, and stars fall asleep, sometimes falling, you want to wear, the ever, maybe. The hope in short, that we will never have remorse for not missing love.
Miners Santa Fiora, the angel of Africa, and the fury of a star Z help us to redo the Puglia. Hey! The water nu the lead, try it. Let's try to save her and her ... the 'kid'!

Left Fernando, I reflect, the repertoire and performers. These ingredients Notte della Taranta. A journey of twelve years that he bet on the certainty of growth. Little by little growth there was, undoubtedly, absolutely. One, in a scene that is now crowded with events that confuse pursuing, strafanno, no economy and clarity of horizon. Twelve years. S'invoca change. Helpful? Maybe, maybe not! The step taken by interpreters from research and proves to be emancipated and free from any subjection to the sound of "usual" Tradition. Then, agree to the research, which moves the production of each of them may be away from practice for a sustainable renewal and attentive to the essential.

MM