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born ... Why is it to know what you want to be? And I will have to stop? Take part in this game of Russian dolls in which I will be the echo of her mother, as is that of her grandmother and great-grandmother and so on from time immemorial?! Stop waiting and forget where this is all the excitement? It can not wait to come back tomorrow, always asking God not to promise anything, being able to always know that death does not exist. Why do we always define the boundaries? System within the margins of existence that we have built ...?

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Post off topic ...

This evening I decided to make an exception to the rule. The reading of "Demons" is moving with some difficulty, but that is what I want to talk.
so far I've been on the phone with Fedora. We talked about many things, work, the urgent present and the nebulous future. Fedora and I are on the same wavelength (over 25 years ...) and even now we have the same feeling of a tight left empty-handed.
Once was enough for me to have a passion, cultivate and live on those moments of bliss that makes you dream that everything is possible, feasible, but now I confess that I take a huge effort to get back to that carefree.
At 15 is quite possible, 20 years, the world is at your feet, a 30 ...
Thirty years early to make a first summary. Mine are rather bleak in the sense that I care about ...
work there, but it's still hard as he can only be to have a little business on his own, never mind not disengage and 8 out of 10 times you wonder who did that to you. You make money in two to four times to even see because you are forced to reinvest. Smile at people every day even if in your heart secretly want them to pieces with the knife for the purpose. My
outlet? But of course, my passions!
Can you help?
...
Ni.
Once it was different, now I think I also put my passions on a paltry budget. Here, my life as a simple vote in the Forum ...
Yet the court and I am just as severe.
Sometimes I feel that everything is a waste of money, time and energy. In the past I did not care, but now I feel it is time to pick up some fruit, but fruit is not any. I dreamed of gathering a basket of juicy peaches and instead I find myself with a sprig of dried currants (which is also a bit harsh-_-).
I realize that is a bit 'sorry for him, but cabbage, I never did for 30 years, I can whine for once?! But yes, concedetemelo ... then I promise that I put on a Cerottini wound and I get up as usual.
yet ... and yet ... I feel that deep down something good there. Perhaps my feeling will only exclusive I'll never have the opportunity to share with anyone, but when I enter into my world and invent my own stories, everything seems better. My mind revolves in a different orbit and live lives that otherwise would not live.
Maybe I'm not able to do anything, maybe I do not have a true vocation for something, but I'm sure you can always rely on my imagination. Dear Michael Ende can rest assured that with me and Fedora his fantasy will never cease to exist.

Lever

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by Born to posting: Made in China # 4



You were like the strips of land left to the end of the world. Maybe god t'aveva left alone, he too had given up thinking of having to abandon those who want to live on the margins of the world, perhaps God just looked at you, even more than he wanted to try to persuade you. A cardinal point. T'aveva looked into your eyes and you had moved his eyes.

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I'm back here, but not bent from the strain broken, like a Russian heroine.
Frightened by the new business needs, I spent evenings looking astonished to find some glimmer of intelligence in a brain that seems to be overshadowed, mixing work and life, and especially with myself. It sometimes happens to believe to be just what you are doing the daily eight hours sitting in front of a monitor and if for any reason something seems to go wrong during those fateful office hours, you tend to look crooked.
This happened to me in these luuuungheee weeks and this is not to be entirely justified in what I am about to confess, but I hope someone can understand me: I am back damn with my reading! While
lever is preparing to face the Demons, I am beginning to nibble again Chekhov!
After I sprinkled ashes on their heads, however, I intend to raise his head again and go back to paint my feelings on this blog, which reminds me that not only frustrations working man lives!

So we start from Anton (although it is now a friend of leverage because it can not be mine?).
Surprise and delight: I like it!
These stories are hilarious, cynical and full of irony so subtle that stimulate my appetite of readers.
pages run fast, smoothly and without sleep.
I love the mastery of language and witty descriptions:

" The shadow of the room, the Swiss figures on the mats of the window, the geraniums, the thin slices of salami on the flats, they looked naive sentimentality of a boarding-school girls from ..."
by Master

Have you ever approached slices of salami to the boarders sentimental?? Genius!!

Furthermore, the characters are real, everyday, perfectly anti-heroic; Chekhov describes us with a disenchanted eye
captures the detail and shows it as in a mirror which reflects the same weaknesses and our own hypocrisy, all taken in our daily Fiction.

"When the princess saw disturbed, misunderstood, made a sign to offenses, and not know what to say or do, he used to cry. "
by Princess

of us women has not been at least once a princess?
Or again:

" And he was in mind that, probably, the very nature has given man this right to lie, because even the painful moments of tension that he was able to hold the secrets of his nest ... There is no family that does not have its joys and sorrows, but for how great they are, it is difficult to see them eye to a stranger: they are a secret. "
from Ugly Characters

We are all, therefore , some good players in our lives, subject to the shape and ready to hide all the darkness that surrounds us behind a "smile to the face" ?

ready to return tomorrow morning to smile again!

Fedora

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Teen

Here I am in a post "early", as well because I'm leaving tomorrow for a mini vacation and bravo bookworm quite manic here that place a day earlier.
First, I warn you that today I heard our beloved Fedora and will post that soon she, too, do not know about you, but I feel very lack of it, and because I have not seen for a while and partly because I do not read much of his comments in our adventure.
This evening I will be brief (I imagine a virtual Mexican wave).
I started "The Demons" by Fyodor Dostoevsky here is the quote that made me think:

"... when she was still young girl in a boarding school in Moscow. She immediately fell in love with the portrait, the second 'use of all girls colleges, fall in love with everything that happens ... "

I wish I could say that this is a sexist comment, I would like to bring my experience as evidence against this statement, but ...
I can not.
Yes, recognize my littleness, maybe even my shallowness, but also as a good teenager, I was exactly like that. I do not know whether it is a process which we carry with us in the chromosomes, but I know girls who have been exempted from falling into this trap adolescence. And the thing that makes me smile now good-naturedly, is the fact that I am infatuated with a young girl singers, celebrities and everything was as unreachable by me. A true and its fixed? But obviously, I was the generation of Take That. And seeing them together right now makes me feel a little nostalgic and a little curious at the same time, it is a bit like if I had been invited to a meeting of the class averages, you go there out of curiosity, to see how the other now, but after ten minutes screaming out to die ...
Dostoevkij with this sentence seems to want me to say that after everything I was not the first, and I'll be the last to suffer this stage of growth. From today I
rocker a little vergoganrmi Stage Take That (known by my peers back then, "Tic Tac"-_-), but in the light of my 30 years I think it was a very carefree and full of dreams inconclusive, but innocent.
Who has not sinned cast the first stone ...

Lever

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Anton and the issue of horns

And another book is gone ...
Good evening to you tenacious players (as long as we're still ...). This time the dear good
Anton Chekhov gave me some very interesting stories.
"The Duel" is one of the best stories I have read in our project. The protagonist, Lajevskij, lives with his lover, who left her husband to live permanently with her beloved. What fascinated me is the great impatience that Lajevskij begins to feel for the woman.
not stand her, she's with gruff, easy-going and then finally almost numb. For its part, the woman seems to love him in a sense (even though a love a bit 'too idealized), but in the meantime can see that to betray a bit' with whoever happens ...
Ultimately, Lajevskij ignoring the poor woman, until such time as the catches in the act.
Now, I want to emphasize that man wanted nothing more than to get rid of his mistress, became for him a presence become obnoxious, but then something changes in him:

"... with eyes hanging in his face, he realized that this unhappy woman, this woman fall for him was the only person dear, intimate and irreplaceable."

O_O But if that was not plotting an escape to get rid of her?!
Maybe I'll be trivial (although my limited experience tells me that you hide in the banality often great wisdom), but I tend to think that she has acquired a value when Lajevskij saw her in the arms of another . But on the other hand is an instinct that we have in the genes. Since children do not do that snub toys, which seem beautiful when taken by other small hands.
's so for lovers?
I think so. The sense of possession often takes precedence over reason.
And in this case, I think that Lajevskij back to her lover would be a terribly wrong move, but the territory was marked, not abandoned, as a pioneer who has conquered their land, not lease the new factor.
Tenacity? Wounded pride? Aggressive therapy?

And then in another story ("The Tale of a Stranger") appear in another quote on the thorny issue of horns

"If one day I were to get married for the second time, and you jump in the crib put the horns, take care to do so in me so that I do not fully realize. E 'would be more honest to betray a man who habitually ruin the ride of life and reputation. "


We understood the point of view of Chekhov infidelity: ultimately better not to know.
First, because that was never taken by an overwhelming sadness mixed with pride, we reject them headlong into a story already dead and, secondly, the question we would look at the fools with the 360 \u200b\u200b° circle of friends.
I, my dear, I think that Anton (Checov. ....) .. now is my friend has left us a pearl of wisdom.

I end this post with a wonderful quote from the story "The Privy Councillor"

"She broke into tears and laughed, in one of those fights between tears and laughter, which always reminded me fan the palpitations and the crackling of a candle flame alive when there spruzzan above water .


Anton here becomes a real painter of words.


PS Fedora Searching desperately .... FEDORAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Lever