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p reghiera of one who is lost, and therefore , to honest, pray for me.

Good Lord God, have patience, it's me again.
Well, here things are going well, more or less, they arrange, in practice, then there is always the way of escape, you me capita, in short, the problem is not that.
The problem would be another, if you have the patience to listen. The problem is this path, this beautiful road that runs and runs and assists, but does not run straight, as it could or even would know how wrong, no. Curiously discarded.
Believe me (for once you believe me) will come undone. Having to summarize, he goes a bit 'here, a little' beyond, taken from sudden freedom. Who knows.
Now, not to belittle, but I'd explain this thing, which is what men, and it is not from God, when the road ahead that has been discarded, you lose, you shelling, disappears, I do not know if you have this, but it is easy
who have not, is one thing to men in general, lost. It is not that stuff from you must be patient and let me explain. Matter of a minute. First, you must not mislead you by the fact that, technically speaking, one can not deny it, that road that runs, runs, assists, under the wheels of this car, actually, wanting to stick to the facts, not discarded at all.
Technically speaking.
Continue straight, without hesitation, so even a fork, nothing.
Straight as a die. I see myself. But the problem, let him say, he is not here. It is not of this road, made of earth and stones and dust, we're talking about. The road in question is another. And do not run outside, but inside. Here. I do not know if you have this: on my way. We all have a
, you will too, that among other things, are not foreign to the design of this machine we are, all of them, each in his way. A way into everyone has one, which makes it easy for the most part, the task of this trip this one, and only rarely, there it complicated. It is now one of the moments that complicated. To summarize, it is that way, the inside, that comes undone, it was defeated, blessed, no more. It happens, believe me, it happens. It is not a nice thing. I believe that you found the Flood, was in fact an ingenious idea. Why find a punishment, I wonder what is better than leave a poor man alone in the midst of the sea. Not even a beach. Nothing. A rock. A derelict wreck. Not even that. Not a sign to know which way to go, to go there to die.
... I know perfectly well what's the question, the answer is that I miss.
runs this coach, and I do not know where. I think the answer, and in my mind it gets dark. So this darkness I take it and put it in your hands. And I ask you Lord God to keep him with you only one hour, keep it in your hand just enough to melt the black, to disband the evil it does in the head, the darkness in my heart, that black, would you? You could even bend down, look, smile, open it, steal a light and let it fall that so much to see him then I think, to see where it is.
A small thing for you, so great for me. Dear God Hear Me Lord? It is not asking much, just a prayer, which is a way of writing the scent of expectation. Write down where you want the path that I lost. Just a sign, something, a light scratch on the glass eyes of those who look without seeing, I see him. Write one word written on the world to me, I will read. Touch a moment of this silence, hear. Do not be afraid, I have none. You slip away this prayer with the power of words, over the cage of the world until who knows where. Amen

Consume!

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and this is my ....
.... Love Story

A beautiful sunny day at PARIS see more ROMANTIC creature you've ever seen. His name is MAX, and every movement he'll catch more and more. Then you turn to / your / or best friend BARBARA and say, "Wow, she's the most NICE body I've ever seen." At that time, He turns towards you and starts walking meeting! he says, "I heard that you were talking about me. I need to talk, because I think you're stupid, and I would be very happy if you came at me with MONTEGALLO to READ "With a stupid smile on your face you say," Well I BE '"and go with HIM. When you finally arrive at MONTEGALLO, he moves toward you, and gives you the kiss more intense than you remember. We were kissing passionately when you hear a SCREWDRIVER that hits you in the head. Open your eyes and you realize that you stole your wallet: you're just an idiot!

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there is a thought that ultimately drive me "you can have a decent job and a family at one time?". The answer would seem trivial and obvious, "Of course you do!", But what is the price to pay, in a world ruled by men who then spontaneously under certain probelmatiche, just do not get it! probably have always been cooked, ironed, cleaned their house and fail to understand that if I'm there with them 18 hours a day ....
1 - my house is not self-cleaning
2-Assuntina I did not find anything that makes me a mirror
3-my husband will be entitled to a mistress

Now, to explain every time, all these things (in I think legitimate) sounds less ridiculous than the ears of a man! things that seem silly, however, for you, your values, your priorities are not at all.

The result is that steps slacker because you do not want to work on Saturdays and Sundays!
but why?

This reflection comes from the request made to me at 7 pm on Saturday to introduce a customer the next day at 4 (dinner included).
tell the truth (let alone the union's demands), maybe if I had been alone, I'd also gone. I believe, however, have an obligation to the man I married, thinking about having a wife and not to live alone! Not

talk about my hypothetical future children for whom I feel compassion already!

carried an article that I was very heartened by Marina Terragni, a talented journalist who I happen to read about "I'm a woman."


A woman who works hard, after a long climb in his career he asks his boss to move to the side, that is "more flexible" a little '. Answer him: "The work is this, dear. Or so, or at home with the kids." But no! Not at all! The work is not that. This is the way people work (timing, methods, rules, male). Now that those in positions of men working there so many women, and women more often men, work can not be that. Women have always worked then, and they work much more than men. They will know how to do it well, even without meeting at eight o'clock in the evening. Another, an important journalist, tells me that half of the day she works at home, maybe even idle, because the Zen of housework clears the mind like little else in the world, and in his mind the ideas flowing. The other half of the day is then to the office, where, however, comes loaded with itself, a firm that has accumulated in his thoughts, able to resist the force of the "already thinking" men. I understand perfectly. The fact is that women work less well when their so-called "private" is kept out of the office door, when they fail to bring a little 'of their home, and in the final themselves. As for writing, for example, of which I practice: you can not make it to write things that much sense if you are not allowed to tell some "me", or if you're locked in an ugly room with air conditioning and photos Children hung attendees to waste your time - your sense of time-especially, playing video games and the other between meetings. You write very well, however, when you can stand next to the field of life, and those are things they want to be spontaneous, as small creatures that wish to pass through you. For example I'm writing this column after washing the heavy carpet that is now dripping in the sun on the terrace. The Cigarini dear friend Leah says that in the coming years, the politically important things to happen to women in the workplace. I think he's right.