se è vero che dal battito di ali di una farfalla dall'altro capo del mondo nasce un uragano ... cosa succede quando un elefante scorreggia?
.. ...
è morto robert mcnamara! *cheer*
a quando kissinger

i casi della vita... samantha black crow ascolta le indigo girls
32... i denti di cristo
andare all'inferno senza passare dal "via"
... e commuoversi per una torta panna e fragole con una decorazione 'auguri' composta da fragole
american gods 350-351... non condivido più del 10%... ma apprezzo la marea
sono fermamente convinto che esistano giorni in cui le nostre parole scandiscono il ritmo del sangue che pulsa lungo vene ed arterie
somewhere there was a city... somewhere there is a city... someone, eons ago, had a nightmare and it was a nightmare so fierce that was dreamt by all the members of the dreamer's tribe... and they lost their smiles, and they lost their hopes, 'cause every time they closed their eyes they were assaulted by the recollection of that nightmare...
time passed and the tribe grew weaker... the hunters could not follow their preys, the healers could not find the herbs that they seeked... and then the tribe grew even weaker... fewer babies were born, fewer men had the chance to become older, fewer and fewer people wished for a brighter day... flowers were no longer platted in to tiaras to be worn my young lovers
but then came the day in which the oldest shaman of the tribe realised that she was too weak to continue to roam the land for a full cycle of the silver eye in the sky... she had served her tribe for a long time... longer than any tribe member could recollect... as her father and grandmother before her... the bond with the land was strong within her family
the shaman walked on top of the sacred mountain with her servants and mixed her blood with the one of the mountain that it was said to have saved her people in the time when her grandmother's grandfather was the one who read the thread of destiny...
she reached the heart of the mountain and invoked help chanting from sunset to sunset her names and titles, then from sunset to dawn naming of spirits that served her… and the mountain spoke…
she had a glimpse of what should have to be done... but sacrificed her arms to the mountain blood too be sure that her vision was not merely a dream of hope... as her sacrifice was made as the blood of the mountain cauterized her limbs she screamed in pain and joy... she knew what would have freed her tribe...
the silver eye in the sky was about to open again when she returned to her hut... the chieftain was kneeling in from of her when, with her last breath she revealed her vision...
the land was to be abandoned, but before that a city had to be built, a city of stone as the ones of the gods, a mountain had to be scarified for the stone, a city with not meant to be inhabited by the living, a single with not a straight angle, a city to be abandoned, a city in which the nightmare would feel at home...
a city forbidden to all the ones who even thought about seeing the next cycle of the silver eye...
and the city was built... and the tribe left the land... and the nightmare lived in the city... the sun revolved countless times round the land and the nightmare started become aware... the nightmare started calling each of its fragment with the screams of those who dreamt it... the power of the nightmare grew as the number of its worshippers...
and then became weaker as the worshippers failed to spread their beliefs... up to now... now that the silver eye in the sky is high, now that the belief is growing... now that the nightmare is being dreamt again... now that the empty roads of the nameless city are being fed with belief and each corner is chanting the name of a forsaken god
non sono arrabbiato... solo estremamente deluso ed amareggiato... primariamente per i ricordi sporcati
17.55
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Nome: Randoz
Sulla prima pagina è scritto: Nell'affresco sono una delle figure di sfondo.
Un punto d'origine. Memorie che ricompongono i frammenti di un'epoca.
VoodooGirl in peccato per il monta...
utente anonimo in perle di saggezza
associazione
atti
contro LATO OSCURO della psicologia
FOIA
la mia cantante preferita
la mia trasmissione preferita
la resistenza
migliore all-news italiano
NEMICO
tecnicamente superbo
un genio
un professionista
unico mag USA e non getta