<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750</id><updated>2011-04-21T20:34:06.340+02:00</updated><title type='text'>teleword , the way intercrossing</title><subtitle type='html'>mon blog est ouverte a tous, laissez moi un mots vous que passez sur ce chemin...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>41</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-1040490083113322659</id><published>2008-12-20T12:59:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-12-20T14:02:03.490+01:00</updated><title type='text'>My first SL year... / Il mio primo anno SL...</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-bf3df0c28b342de9" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v13.nonxt6.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dbf3df0c28b342de9%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331150949%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D527CFF36C802B91C08DAF6455EFE9483D1FE81F3.60738B647915DAA5DCAFAFE91752AAA39B2C6015%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dbf3df0c28b342de9%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DZ2W-r7kZgRNe-EhCt8kpCG30Dso&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v13.nonxt6.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dbf3df0c28b342de9%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331150949%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D527CFF36C802B91C08DAF6455EFE9483D1FE81F3.60738B647915DAA5DCAFAFE91752AAA39B2C6015%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dbf3df0c28b342de9%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DZ2W-r7kZgRNe-EhCt8kpCG30Dso&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3008236004809404750-1040490083113322659?l=teleword.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=bf3df0c28b342de9&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/1040490083113322659/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=1040490083113322659' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/1040490083113322659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/1040490083113322659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2008/12/blog-post.html' title='My first SL year... / Il mio primo anno SL...'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-7969547942051889463</id><published>2008-12-17T16:54:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2008-12-17T16:57:02.932+01:00</updated><title type='text'>bocca di rosa...</title><content type='html'>tratto dalla canzone di De andré...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...si sa che la gente da buoni consigli sentendosi come gesù nel tempio...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...si sa che la gente da buoni consigli se non può più dare cattivo esempio...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;meditateci sopra...:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3008236004809404750-7969547942051889463?l=teleword.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/7969547942051889463/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=7969547942051889463' title='1 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/7969547942051889463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/7969547942051889463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2008/12/bocca-di-rosa.html' title='bocca di rosa...'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-2354531335661832724</id><published>2008-12-10T20:05:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T20:07:43.068+01:00</updated><title type='text'>cosa vuoi....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JCLVZ7yvkKI/SUATcagooyI/AAAAAAAAAaY/6b1B3bBBLAo/s1600-h/6764735-md.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JCLVZ7yvkKI/SUATcagooyI/AAAAAAAAAaY/6b1B3bBBLAo/s320/6764735-md.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278240142151688994" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cosa pensavi tu, che hai percorso quel cammino , lo sapevi che sarebbe finita prima o poi…&lt;br /&gt;Lo sapevi tu….&lt;br /&gt;Cosa pensavi mentre vivevi quelle sensazioni perse nel vento, che sarebbero durate in eterno magari…&lt;br /&gt;Per sempre…&lt;br /&gt;O tu stolto che hai superato il limite, adesso si che puoi parlare al passato , ma con i se ed i ma non si costruisce un futuro, questo lo sai e lo hai sempre saputo…&lt;br /&gt;Il sapere…&lt;br /&gt;E adesso, cosa c’è ,perché vaghi nel limbo alla ricerca della pace, lo sai che non la troverai e che ti abisserai nel tuo profondo essere, nessuno può più…&lt;br /&gt;Nessuno…&lt;br /&gt; Era un gioco, no !lo sai che non lo era più , ed adesso resta la cenere…irrimediabilmente compromessi...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3008236004809404750-2354531335661832724?l=teleword.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/2354531335661832724/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=2354531335661832724' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/2354531335661832724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/2354531335661832724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2008/12/cosa-vuoi.html' title='cosa vuoi....'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JCLVZ7yvkKI/SUATcagooyI/AAAAAAAAAaY/6b1B3bBBLAo/s72-c/6764735-md.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-3105870181815866984</id><published>2008-12-07T23:25:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T08:42:49.207+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Niente Paura....</title><content type='html'>Il mio primo video... Mon premier video... My first video.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-85ea1dcea3cfde7e" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v7.nonxt7.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D85ea1dcea3cfde7e%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331150949%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D5BE6CDE0599857DEBF5D35D2D5F15F16B55E4C64.5D777371132B23AE87F0D9C559EB00631B53CEAC%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D85ea1dcea3cfde7e%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DXrZYI3qqRoN1yCnOfdzaB4-UrSg&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v7.nonxt7.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D85ea1dcea3cfde7e%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331150949%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D5BE6CDE0599857DEBF5D35D2D5F15F16B55E4C64.5D777371132B23AE87F0D9C559EB00631B53CEAC%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D85ea1dcea3cfde7e%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DXrZYI3qqRoN1yCnOfdzaB4-UrSg&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3008236004809404750-3105870181815866984?l=teleword.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=2100f1160cafce93&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=85ea1dcea3cfde7e&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=9a14e303d71fdf18&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/3105870181815866984/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=3105870181815866984' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/3105870181815866984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/3105870181815866984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2008/12/niente-paura.html' title='Niente Paura....'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-586422461567782047</id><published>2008-12-07T00:19:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2008-12-07T00:19:16.776+01:00</updated><title type='text'>la Cura..........</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/If6-HETf08Y' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/If6-HETf08Y'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3008236004809404750-586422461567782047?l=teleword.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/586422461567782047/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=586422461567782047' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/586422461567782047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/586422461567782047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2008/12/la-cura.html' title='la Cura..........'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-5152655760200279228</id><published>2008-12-04T12:59:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2008-12-04T12:59:46.105+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Magari...... </title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/OHbAG1hZ8UI' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/OHbAG1hZ8UI'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Renato Zero&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3008236004809404750-5152655760200279228?l=teleword.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/5152655760200279228/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=5152655760200279228' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/5152655760200279228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/5152655760200279228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2008/12/magari.html' title='Magari...... '/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-1175661865790471911</id><published>2008-12-03T20:44:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-12-03T20:52:02.278+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Ho messo via.....</title><content type='html'>( Ligabue &amp; Tiziano ferro )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ho messo via un pò di rumore &lt;br /&gt;dicono cosi si fa &lt;br /&gt;nel comodino c'è una mina &lt;br /&gt;e tonsille da sei mila watt. &lt;br /&gt;Ho messo via i rimpiattini &lt;br /&gt;dicono non ho l'età &lt;br /&gt;se si voltano un momento io ci rigioco &lt;br /&gt;perchè a me... va. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ho messo via un pò di illusioni &lt;br /&gt;che prima o poi basta così &lt;br /&gt;ne ho messe via due o tre cartoni &lt;br /&gt;comunque so che sono lì. &lt;br /&gt;Ho messo un po’ di consigli &lt;br /&gt;dicono è più facile &lt;br /&gt;li ho messi via perché a sbagliare &lt;br /&gt;sono bravissimo da me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mi sto facendo un pò di posto &lt;br /&gt;e che mi aspetto chi lo sa &lt;br /&gt;che posto vuoto ce n'è stato ce n'è ce n'è ce ne sarà. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ho messo via un bel pò di cose &lt;br /&gt;ma non mi spiego mai il perché &lt;br /&gt;io non riesca a metter via te. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ho messo via un pò di legnate &lt;br /&gt;i sogni quelli non si può &lt;br /&gt;che non è il male nè la botta &lt;br /&gt;ma purtroppo il livido. &lt;br /&gt;Ho messo via un bel pò di foto &lt;br /&gt;che prenderanno polvere &lt;br /&gt;sia sui rimorsi che rimpianti &lt;br /&gt;che rancori sui perché. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mi sto facendo un pò di posto &lt;br /&gt;e che mi aspetto chi lo sa &lt;br /&gt;che posto vuoto ce n'è stato ce n'è ce n'è ce ne sarà. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ho messo via un bel pò di cose &lt;br /&gt;ma non mi spiego mai il perché &lt;br /&gt;io non riesca a metter via te. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In queste scarpe e su questa terra &lt;br /&gt;che dondola dondola dondola dondola &lt;br /&gt;con il conforto di un cielo che resta lì. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mi sto facendo un pò di posto &lt;br /&gt;e che mi aspetto chi lo sa &lt;br /&gt;che posto vuoto ce n'è stato ce n'è ce n'è ce ne sarà. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ho messo via un bel pò di cose &lt;br /&gt;ma non mi spiego mai il perché &lt;br /&gt;io non riesca a metter via &lt;br /&gt;riesca a metter via &lt;br /&gt;riesca a metter via te&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3008236004809404750-1175661865790471911?l=teleword.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9GnG3zFg4X0' title='Ho messo via.....'/><link rel='enclosure' type='' href='http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9GnG3zFg4X0' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/1175661865790471911/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=1175661865790471911' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/1175661865790471911'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/1175661865790471911'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2008/12/ho-messo-via.html' title='Ho messo via.....'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-2376543724359347836</id><published>2008-12-01T16:13:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2008-12-01T16:17:16.369+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Tabula rasa....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JCLVZ7yvkKI/STP_4lhBroI/AAAAAAAAAaQ/Ve_soB4jY28/s1600-h/cancelled.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 162px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JCLVZ7yvkKI/STP_4lhBroI/AAAAAAAAAaQ/Ve_soB4jY28/s320/cancelled.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274840936189374082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;senza parole....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3008236004809404750-2376543724359347836?l=teleword.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/2376543724359347836/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=2376543724359347836' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/2376543724359347836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/2376543724359347836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2008/12/tabula-rasa.html' title='Tabula rasa....'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JCLVZ7yvkKI/STP_4lhBroI/AAAAAAAAAaQ/Ve_soB4jY28/s72-c/cancelled.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-7217504104455386465</id><published>2008-11-29T21:33:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-29T21:48:49.633+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Di quante vite abbiamo bisogno.../  Conbien de vie il nous faut...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JCLVZ7yvkKI/STGqpXLBADI/AAAAAAAAAZ4/cxAjTh6UzoY/s1600-h/telenews+copia.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JCLVZ7yvkKI/STGqpXLBADI/AAAAAAAAAZ4/cxAjTh6UzoY/s320/telenews+copia.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274184266199138354" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;réflection d'un fou...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dejà ma premier vie elle me prend mmmm plus ou moins le 85% de me resources, je ne reussi pas a voir comment je peut gerer bien un deuxieme vie avec le 15% restant....&lt;br /&gt;Pendant un anné j'ai vue beaucoup de maniere de vivre SL, mais tous(le fou j'entend) je peut dire que cherchent des emotins, chacun pour ca raison mmmm je crois que c'est pas du tout interessante de faire un liste...&lt;br /&gt;L'eterne recherche d'émotions on nous rend drogués, en effect les émotions on nous fais sentir vivante...&lt;br /&gt;Mais il y a t'il un moment ou on dois choisir, les routes sur SL ce mélanges et parfois quelc'un perde le contact avec la réalité....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3008236004809404750-7217504104455386465?l=teleword.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/7217504104455386465/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=7217504104455386465' title='1 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/7217504104455386465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/7217504104455386465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2008/11/di-quante-vite-abbiamo-bisogno.html' title='Di quante vite abbiamo bisogno.../  Conbien de vie il nous faut...'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JCLVZ7yvkKI/STGqpXLBADI/AAAAAAAAAZ4/cxAjTh6UzoY/s72-c/telenews+copia.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-7010055687949980165</id><published>2008-11-28T14:15:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-28T14:19:53.737+01:00</updated><title type='text'>.....questa falsa divisione tra puttane e spose</title><content type='html'>spezzone da una canzone di Jovanotti 1992&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;......&lt;br /&gt;il pensiero vola e va a posarsi sul davanzale &lt;br /&gt;di una casa sul confine tra il bene e il male&lt;br /&gt;tra l'amore e il sesso tra il corpo e la mente &lt;br /&gt;per concludere che in fondo in fondo è divertente &lt;br /&gt;il continuo dondolare di tutte le cose &lt;br /&gt;questa falsa divisione tra puttane e spose &lt;br /&gt;.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3008236004809404750-7010055687949980165?l=teleword.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/7010055687949980165/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=7010055687949980165' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/7010055687949980165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/7010055687949980165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2008/11/questa-falsa-divisione-tra-puttane-e.html' title='.....questa falsa divisione tra puttane e spose'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-495000063101976665</id><published>2008-11-28T13:04:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-28T13:09:52.560+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Oggi ore 12.30 , heur 12.30 chez moi.....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JCLVZ7yvkKI/SS_fYGWax8I/AAAAAAAAAZw/vlClZPwep7g/s1600-h/28112008029.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JCLVZ7yvkKI/SS_fYGWax8I/AAAAAAAAAZw/vlClZPwep7g/s320/28112008029.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273679293788637122" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;L'hiver tombe aujourd'hui, oui pas pas hasard je crois...&lt;br /&gt;La neige recouvre tous le mal des gents, aussi mes émotions elle sont&lt;br /&gt;bien congelé... &lt;br /&gt;j'attend pas, non pas de les faires rivivre pas maintenant...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3008236004809404750-495000063101976665?l=teleword.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/495000063101976665/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=495000063101976665' title='1 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/495000063101976665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/495000063101976665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2008/11/oggi-ore-1230-heur-1230-chez-moi.html' title='Oggi ore 12.30 , heur 12.30 chez moi.....'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JCLVZ7yvkKI/SS_fYGWax8I/AAAAAAAAAZw/vlClZPwep7g/s72-c/28112008029.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-8479020389853836717</id><published>2008-11-28T09:03:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-28T09:08:51.030+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Il Giorno Del Dolore Che Uno Ha.....</title><content type='html'>Quando tutte le parole sai che non ti servon più &lt;br /&gt;quando sudi il tuo coraggio per non startene laggiù &lt;br /&gt;quando tiri in mezzo Dio o il destino o chissà che &lt;br /&gt;che nessuno se lo spiega perché sia successo a te &lt;br /&gt;quando tira un pò di vento che ci si rialza un pò &lt;br /&gt;e la vita è un pò più forte del tuo dirle "grazie no" &lt;br /&gt;quando sembra tutto fermo la tua ruota girerà. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sopra il giorno di dolore che uno ha. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quando indietro non si torna quando l'hai capito che &lt;br /&gt;che la vita non è giusta come la vorresti te &lt;br /&gt;quando farsi una ragione vora dire vivere &lt;br /&gt;te l'han detto tutti quanti che per loro è facile &lt;br /&gt;quando batte un pò di sole dove ci contavi un pò &lt;br /&gt;e la vita è un pò più forte del tuo dirle "ancora no" &lt;br /&gt;quando la ferita brucia la tua pelle si farà. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sopra il giorno di dolore che uno ha. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quando il cuore senza un pezzo il suo ritmo prenderà &lt;br /&gt;quando l'aria che fa il giro i tuoi polmoni beccherà &lt;br /&gt;quando questa merda intorno sempre merda resterà &lt;br /&gt;riconoscerai l'odore perché questa è la realtà &lt;br /&gt;quando la tua sveglia suona e tu ti chiederai che or'è &lt;br /&gt;che la vita è sempre forte molto più che facile &lt;br /&gt;quando sposti appena il piede lì il tuo tempo crescerà &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sopra il giorno di dolore che uno ha&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3008236004809404750-8479020389853836717?l=teleword.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://it.youtube.com/watch?v=eYMpI8oiVHQ' title='Il Giorno Del Dolore Che Uno Ha.....'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/8479020389853836717/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=8479020389853836717' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/8479020389853836717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/8479020389853836717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2008/11/il-giorno-del-dolore-che-uno-ha.html' title='Il Giorno Del Dolore Che Uno Ha.....'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-8593917291134659091</id><published>2008-11-27T23:11:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-27T23:12:40.086+01:00</updated><title type='text'>La fenice , il ritorno....</title><content type='html'>stavo li incredulo di quello che vedevo e d'un tratto capivo...&lt;br /&gt;la fenice, un'altra, stava volando su di me....&lt;br /&gt;Ha cercato di farmi capire che tutto questo è un'illusione, stava volando sempre più lontano...&lt;br /&gt;Ed io accecato dalla vita non vedevo, o stolto dalle speranze facili  e dai sogni irrealizzabili , svegliati e cammina verso la tua via.... oramai solo come sempre...&lt;br /&gt;Selvaggio, selvatico e solitario lo resterai per sempre si....&lt;br /&gt;addio mia fenice che di tè non restano che le ceneri, sei stata con me quasi un anno ed adesso è ora che tu ti trasformi in altro si...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tabula rasa &amp; terra bruciata&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3008236004809404750-8593917291134659091?l=teleword.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/8593917291134659091/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=8593917291134659091' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/8593917291134659091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/8593917291134659091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2008/11/la-fenice-il-ritorno.html' title='La fenice , il ritorno....'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-1964173938459746606</id><published>2008-11-22T10:27:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-22T10:29:18.940+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Amici........... Friend....</title><content type='html'>Caro amico/a lontano, &lt;br /&gt;sono certo che le nostre strade si incroceranno , non è importante per me il quando ma il saperti felice mi da abbastanza…&lt;br /&gt;Questa è amicizia per me, mmm direi pochi la comprendono , molti pretendono che l’amicizia sia essere sempre vicini e condividere  le stesse cose… ma per mè no, la tua presenza è già importante, anche se non ci vediamo o scriviamo per mesi io so che tu sei presente se avessi bisogno..&lt;br /&gt;Non grossi bisogni ma in questa società dove tutto è sempre di corsa a volte non troviamo il tempo per parlare , il parlarti è gia per me un regalo…&lt;br /&gt;L’amicizia è dare, non  pretendere di ricevere, le persone che vedono l’amicizia in un essere sempre presenti la scambiano con l’opportunismo e l’egoismo ….alteramento  del proprio ego…&lt;br /&gt;Il volersi sentire al centro non fa per me, io sono solitario frequento la gente che voglio, se lo voglio, ma passo il maggior tempo da solo con me stesso….Mi chiedo come fai a stare bene con gli altri se non stai bene con te stesso………….?&lt;br /&gt;Ecco il perché sei ancora nei miei amici, se non lo sei più vuol dire che abbiamo visioni diverse sull’amicizia…...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3008236004809404750-1964173938459746606?l=teleword.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/1964173938459746606/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=1964173938459746606' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/1964173938459746606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/1964173938459746606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2008/11/amici-friend.html' title='Amici........... Friend....'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-8524875555888829073</id><published>2008-11-16T10:07:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-16T10:19:19.025+01:00</updated><title type='text'>A Novembre..........</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-e5ac963f0d89a241" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" 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href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/8524875555888829073/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=8524875555888829073' title='1 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/8524875555888829073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/8524875555888829073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2008/11/novembre.html' title='A Novembre..........'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-3055389110379564750</id><published>2008-10-10T22:57:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-10-10T23:06:55.882+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Dedicato a Marga......</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-a59d9696d3212820" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" 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href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/3055389110379564750/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=3055389110379564750' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/3055389110379564750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/3055389110379564750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2008/10/dedicato-marga.html' title='Dedicato a Marga......'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-3677866648724554036</id><published>2008-09-17T21:42:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2008-09-18T12:16:45.047+02:00</updated><title type='text'>STOP DIMENTICA !!!! Dedicato a tutti quelli che hanno qualche cosa da dimenticare... da scordare...da seppellire...</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-6004f9668fa05369" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v11.nonxt5.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D6004f9668fa05369%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331150950%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D6697E8F649DB2CC7AE2D719D6D1F7CAD363D508F.206AB00B89721F2607A972A7208FB8BBE25F9D1B%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D6004f9668fa05369%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DKQjV17jiWUdmE1DfWp6liDM1WKI&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v11.nonxt5.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D6004f9668fa05369%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331150950%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D6697E8F649DB2CC7AE2D719D6D1F7CAD363D508F.206AB00B89721F2607A972A7208FB8BBE25F9D1B%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D6004f9668fa05369%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DKQjV17jiWUdmE1DfWp6liDM1WKI&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3008236004809404750-3677866648724554036?l=teleword.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/3677866648724554036/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=3677866648724554036' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/3677866648724554036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/3677866648724554036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2008/09/stop-dimentica.html' title='STOP DIMENTICA !!!! Dedicato a tutti quelli che hanno qualche cosa da dimenticare... da scordare...da seppellire...'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-2843719177041875125</id><published>2008-05-08T12:52:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T12:53:51.745+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Spiralling...</title><content type='html'>Je me retourne et je vois des beaux moments, jusqu’à présent oui….&lt;br /&gt;Ma tête elle se questionne, mais pourquoi ?&lt;br /&gt;Des interminables réponses coulent sur moi, je me laisse dépasser par ces mots, une seule question n’as pas eu de réponses…&lt;br /&gt;Est-ce cela la vie ?&lt;br /&gt;Pourquoi je dois souffrir , aimer, pleurer, mourir à petit feu  pour renaître et laisser des cadavres derrière  moi…&lt;br /&gt;Où le jeu se termine-t-il et jusqu’où veut-on jouer, mais au fond je sais…. Ce n’est pas un jeu…mais en jeu, c’est notre vie qui l’est ..&lt;br /&gt;Transgression, envie de rêver et de vivre des émotions nouvelles, mais jusqu’où c’est vivable et quand il est « juste » de s’arrêter…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3008236004809404750-2843719177041875125?l=teleword.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/2843719177041875125/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=2843719177041875125' title='1 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/2843719177041875125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/2843719177041875125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2008/05/spiralling.html' title='Spiralling...'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-6032542026140638250</id><published>2008-05-07T12:41:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2008-05-07T12:41:04.966+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Vasco Rossi - La Compagnia </title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/Z7yTvYaPINk' name='movie'/&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/Z7yTvYaPINk'/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Dediè a summer pour ca nouvelle vie ... ;))&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3008236004809404750-6032542026140638250?l=teleword.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/6032542026140638250/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=6032542026140638250' title='1 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/6032542026140638250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/6032542026140638250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2008/05/vasco-rossi-la-compagnia_4497.html' title='Vasco Rossi - La Compagnia '/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-76241242921941618</id><published>2008-03-02T19:58:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2008-03-02T19:59:37.645+01:00</updated><title type='text'>desert in me...</title><content type='html'>Mi trovo in piena tempesta, in ginocchio sulla sabbia, il deserto si stava impadronendo di me…&lt;br /&gt;Penso alle mie mani che sprofondano ed il mio corpo che non riesce a gestire quelle raffiche da tutte le direzioni,  penso solo a respirare…&lt;br /&gt;I miei occhi oramai chiusi non vedono nulla, sentono solo il battere del vento contro le palpebre sento che faranno fatica a riaprirsi quando cesserà la tempesta…..mmm se cessera…&lt;br /&gt;Vorrei dormire, spegnere tutto e fare un reset per ricominciare magari con un po’ di idee nuove ma la testa non me lo permette… devi soffrire mi dice…&lt;br /&gt;Il mio cuore , la mia anima stanno tentando di non lasciarsi sopraffare dal deserto che imperterrito avanza….  Non si fermerà…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3008236004809404750-76241242921941618?l=teleword.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/76241242921941618/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=76241242921941618' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/76241242921941618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/76241242921941618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2008/03/desert-in-me.html' title='desert in me...'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-2064293440014353915</id><published>2008-01-28T16:12:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-01-28T16:15:40.290+01:00</updated><title type='text'>my Home</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_JCLVZ7yvkKI/R53xUKBvNFI/AAAAAAAAAUk/PAmCUkcwm0A/s1600-h/casa+mia.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_JCLVZ7yvkKI/R53xUKBvNFI/AAAAAAAAAUk/PAmCUkcwm0A/s320/casa+mia.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5160546076627776594" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;i like my quiet place....&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3008236004809404750-2064293440014353915?l=teleword.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/2064293440014353915/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=2064293440014353915' title='1 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/2064293440014353915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/2064293440014353915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2008/01/my-home.html' title='my Home'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JCLVZ7yvkKI/R53xUKBvNFI/AAAAAAAAAUk/PAmCUkcwm0A/s72-c/casa+mia.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-2228877408271123119</id><published>2008-01-23T12:13:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-01-31T09:20:49.955+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Sand Storm….</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Tempesta di sabbia….&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eravamo verso la fine d’estate, ed il sole cominciava a scendere prima, l’oscurità prendeva sopravvento ogni giorno un po’ di più, un lento addormentarsi…&lt;br /&gt;Mi trovavo in un deserto, all’orizzonte vedevo strane nebbie alzarsi il cielo dinnanzi a me stava cambiando colore….quasi rosa…&lt;br /&gt;Mi bloccai in piedi, e come un tsunami la tempesta di sabbia di abbatté su di me, i miei occhi non vedevano più nulla, la sabbia mi stava facendo lacrimare gli occhi, si piangevo, sentivo i miei occhi pesanti, ma non riuscivo a chiuderli….  Lo feci con grande dolore….&lt;br /&gt;La sabbia mi era dentro, la sentivo in ogni parte del mio corpo, non mi sarei sorpreso di trovarla anche dentro il mio corpo….fino al cuore sarebbe arrivata…&lt;br /&gt;Restai in balia della tempesta, il vento mi faceva barcollare, sentivo il mio corpo cedere sotto la pressione….le mie gambe cedettero e mi ritrovai in ginocchio.&lt;br /&gt;Le mie mani entrarono nella sabbia…e la strinsero a pugno chiuso&lt;br /&gt;Non so quanto tempo passò, e come se il tempo si fosse fermato. poteva essere ore o giorni…&lt;br /&gt;La tempesta stava passando il vento calava intensità….&lt;br /&gt;Cercai di riaprire i miei occhi, ma la sabbia aveva lasciato dei segni evidenti, il dolore era grande…ed il mio corpo non reagiva….&lt;br /&gt;Mi lasciai cadere a terra, stremato e dolorante, il sole stava spazzando la sabbia e con lei la bufera, con un occhio lo vidi il sole, era estate….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tempête de sable....&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;C’était vers la fin d’été, le soleil commençait à descendre et déjà l’obscurité prenait le dessus chaque jour un peu plus, un lent endormissement.&lt;br /&gt;Je me trouvais dans un désert,  à l’horizon je voyais des étranges brouillards s’élever, le ciel devant moi changeait de couleur….presque rose…&lt;br /&gt;Je m’immobilisait, mais comme un tsunami, la tempête de sable s’abattit sur moi, mes yeux ne voyaient plus rien et le sable les faisait larmoyer, je pleurais, mes yeux étaient lourds,  je ne réussis à les fermer qu’à grande peine….&lt;br /&gt;Le sable pénétrait en moi, je le sentais en chaque partie de mon corps, je ne me serais pas surpris de le trouver dans mon corps….jusqu’au cœur il est arrivé…&lt;br /&gt;Je restai là, à la merci de cette tempête… le vent me fit chanceler, je sentis mon corps céder sous la pression … mes jambes cédèrent et je me retrouvai à genoux !&lt;br /&gt;Mes mains entrèrent dans le sable… mes poings s’y refermèrent.&lt;br /&gt;Je ne sais combien de temps se passa, c’était comme si le temps s’était arrêté, cela avait pu durer des heures ou des jours…&lt;br /&gt;La tempête passa … le vent baissa d’intensité….&lt;br /&gt;J’ouvris doucement les yeux …  le sable avait laissé des signes évidents, la douleur était grande…et mon corps réagissait plus….&lt;br /&gt;Je me laissais tomber par terre,  épuisé et  endolori … mais le soleil vint balayer le sable et avec lui la tourmente … d’un œil, je le vis le soleil, c’était été ….&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3008236004809404750-2228877408271123119?l=teleword.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/2228877408271123119/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=2228877408271123119' title='1 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/2228877408271123119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/2228877408271123119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2008/01/sand-storm.html' title='Sand Storm….'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-412935542581915017</id><published>2008-01-23T09:00:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-01-23T09:16:05.486+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Friend Feedback…</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_JCLVZ7yvkKI/R5b3j6BvNEI/AAAAAAAAAUc/Y-r_UqW2KGk/s1600-h/winter.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_JCLVZ7yvkKI/R5b3j6BvNEI/AAAAAAAAAUc/Y-r_UqW2KGk/s320/winter.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158582619443508290" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J'ai décidé de faire des feedback pour mes amis, parfois on ce dis pas ce qu’en pense l'un des autres...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Winter&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On c’est connue par une amie en  commun, c’était la fin de l’été et le sable il t’a porté prés de moi, et âpres ce tempe on c’est toujours envoie quelques mots…&lt;br /&gt;Il faut dire que on à pas passé des heures a coser, ou bien on à fait des choses ensemble, une façon de respect réciproque s’était instauré, j’ai toujours aimé ta façon d’aider les autres :)&lt;br /&gt;Tu as pris le tempe de m’écouter dans un période obscure, et tu es réussi à rester au dessus des parts toujours, j’aime ca.... ta façon d’êtres toujours disponible&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Merci de tout Winter et à bientôt....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3008236004809404750-412935542581915017?l=teleword.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/412935542581915017/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=412935542581915017' title='3 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/412935542581915017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/412935542581915017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2008/01/friend-feedback.html' title='Friend Feedback…'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JCLVZ7yvkKI/R5b3j6BvNEI/AAAAAAAAAUc/Y-r_UqW2KGk/s72-c/winter.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-6531490936631638222</id><published>2008-01-22T12:25:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-01-22T12:30:37.480+01:00</updated><title type='text'>The return</title><content type='html'>L’amitié est une chose rare et importante, parfois ca dépassé la liaison de l’amour, je dis parfois entendez moi.... : )&lt;br /&gt;J’ai connue des gents, j’ai fais un chemin avec eux, quelque fois j’ai les aies perdus pandans le parcoure...&lt;br /&gt;Des autres ils sont encore la, des autres encore il retourne dans mon chemin...&lt;br /&gt;C’était dur les avoir perdu dans le chemin, c’est parfois dur les retrouver...&lt;br /&gt;Mais ca que je n’accepte pas c’est cacher la vérité, oui ca fais mal, c’est plus dur écouter ce que tu ne veux pas, et clairement l’accepter....&lt;br /&gt;Mais ci vraiment le mot ami signifique quelque chose pour les gents, alors utilisé le avec parcimonie.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3008236004809404750-6531490936631638222?l=teleword.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/6531490936631638222/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=6531490936631638222' title='2 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/6531490936631638222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/6531490936631638222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2008/01/return.html' title='The return'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-1178533256724670990</id><published>2008-01-21T19:53:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2008-01-21T19:56:32.905+01:00</updated><title type='text'>il pescatore.....</title><content type='html'>Getta le tue reti &lt;br /&gt;buona pesca ci sarà &lt;br /&gt;e canta le tue canzoni &lt;br /&gt;che burrasca calmerà &lt;br /&gt;pensa pensa al tuo bambino &lt;br /&gt;al saluto che ti mandò &lt;br /&gt;e tua moglie sveglia di buon mattino &lt;br /&gt;con Dio di te parlò &lt;br /&gt;con Dio di te parlò&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Dimmi dimmi mio Signore &lt;br /&gt;dimmi che tornerà &lt;br /&gt;l'uomo mio difendi dal mare &lt;br /&gt;dai pericoli che troverà &lt;br /&gt;troppo giovane son io &lt;br /&gt;ed il nero è un triste colore &lt;br /&gt;la mia pelle bianca e profumata &lt;br /&gt;ha bisogno di carezze ancora &lt;br /&gt;ha bisogno di carezze ora&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Pesca forza tira pescatore &lt;br /&gt;pesca e non ti fermare &lt;br /&gt;poco pesce nella rete &lt;br /&gt;lunghi giorni in mezzo al mare &lt;br /&gt;mare che non ti ha mai dato tanto &lt;br /&gt;mare che fa bestemmiare &lt;br /&gt;quando la sua furia diventa grande &lt;br /&gt;e la sua onda è un gigante &lt;br /&gt;la sua onda è un gigante&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Dimmi dimmi mio Signore &lt;br /&gt;dimmi se tornerà &lt;br /&gt;quell'uomo che sento meno mio &lt;br /&gt;ed un altro mi sorride già &lt;br /&gt;scaccialo dalla mia mente &lt;br /&gt;non indurmi nel peccato &lt;br /&gt;un brivido sento quando mi guarda &lt;br /&gt;e una rosa egli mi ha dato &lt;br /&gt;una rosa lui mi ha dato &lt;br /&gt;Rosa rossa pegno di amore &lt;br /&gt;rosa rossa malaspina &lt;br /&gt;nel silenzio della notte ora &lt;br /&gt;la mia bocca gli è vicina &lt;br /&gt;no per Dio non farlo tornare &lt;br /&gt;dillo tu al mare &lt;br /&gt;è troppo forte questa catena &lt;br /&gt;io non la voglio spezzare &lt;br /&gt;io non la voglio spezzare&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Pesca forza tira pescatore &lt;br /&gt;pesca non ti fermare &lt;br /&gt;anche quando l'onda ti solleva forte &lt;br /&gt;e ti toglie dal tuo pensare &lt;br /&gt;e ti spazza via come foglia al vento &lt;br /&gt;che vien voglia di lasciarsi andare &lt;br /&gt;più leggero nel suo abbraccio forte &lt;br /&gt;ma è così cattiva poi la morte &lt;br /&gt;è così cattiva poi la morte&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Dimmi dimmi mio Signore &lt;br /&gt;dimmi che tornerà &lt;br /&gt;quell'uomo che sento l'uomo mio &lt;br /&gt;quell'uomo che non saprà &lt;br /&gt;che non saprà di me, &lt;br /&gt;di lui e delle sue promesse vane &lt;br /&gt;di una rosa rossa qui tra le mie dita &lt;br /&gt;di una storia nata già finita &lt;br /&gt;di una storia nata già finita&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Pesca forza tira pescatore &lt;br /&gt;pesca non ti fermare &lt;br /&gt;poco pesce nella rete &lt;br /&gt;lunghi giorni in mezzo al mare &lt;br /&gt;mare che non ti ha mai dato tanto &lt;br /&gt;mare che fa bestemmiare &lt;br /&gt;e si placa e tace senza resa &lt;br /&gt;e ti aspetta per ricominciare &lt;br /&gt;e ti aspetta per ricominciare &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fiorella Mannoia&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3008236004809404750-1178533256724670990?l=teleword.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/1178533256724670990/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=1178533256724670990' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/1178533256724670990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/1178533256724670990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2008/01/il-pescatore.html' title='il pescatore.....'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-6953162843257549959</id><published>2007-12-12T18:29:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2007-12-13T10:21:16.305+01:00</updated><title type='text'>besoins   /    bisogni</title><content type='html'>… Elle en avait besoin, je le sentais...&lt;br /&gt;Donner de l’amour et en recevoir, quoi de plus beau… non pas de l’amour sexuel pas cela… juste des émotions…&lt;br /&gt;Parfois une chose en attire une autre, c’est vrai, et alors on se retrouve avec peu de vêtements voire aucun… mais c’est une autre histoire…&lt;br /&gt;Cette émotion de se sentir important pour l’autre, c’est ce qui vaut la peine de maintenir un rapport, c’est ce qui vaut la peine de prendre son temps pour écrire quelque mots ou de passer quelques heures en sa compagnie… oserai-je dire avec son âme… ?&lt;br /&gt;Parce que tu ne la vois pas, parce que tu ne la sens pas vraiment, tu ne peux seulement que lire ses mots, en cherchant derrière eux qui elle est…&lt;br /&gt;J’ai lui donné un gros HUG, et on est allé danser…&lt;br /&gt;… He oui, un slow, c’est clair… quoi de mieux pour se détendre ?!&lt;br /&gt;Ses mains sur mon corps et les miennes sur le sien… La sentir si proche… &lt;br /&gt;Même en le voulant, tu ne peux pas rester impassible, les émotions montent… C’est humain… j’ai dis !&lt;br /&gt;Un mélange de sentiments avec des émotions, ça se passe parfois mais pas toujours… entendons nous !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;je veux sentir ta peau…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mais pas question de vous en narrer plus… :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;…lei ne aveva bisogno, ,questo lo sentivo.&lt;br /&gt;Dare amore e riceverne, ma non parlo dell’amore sessuale no..non questo, parlo delle emozioni....&lt;br /&gt;Poi a volte una cosa tira l’altra, questo è vero, e ci si ritrova con pochi vestiti oppure direi senza vestiti..ma questa è un’altra storia ......&lt;br /&gt;L’emozione si sentirsi importante per l’altra persona, sentire che vale la pena di mantenere dei rapporti , che vale la pena prendere del tempo per scrivere qualche parola o di passare qualche ora in sua compagnia, oserei dire in compagnia della sua anima.....&lt;br /&gt;Perchè non lo vedi, non lo senti, puoi solamente leggere quello che scrive e vedere il suo avatar che cerca in qualche maniera di comportarsi in un modo umano.....&lt;br /&gt;Gli ho data un grosso HUG, e siamo andati a ballare....&lt;br /&gt;....beh si, uno Slow , è chiaro…..cosa di meglio per rilassarsi un po’ ?&lt;br /&gt;le sue mani mi sfioravano in corpo mentre ballavamo, e le mie carezzavano il suo, vedendo questo non riesci a rimanere impassibile, le emozioni fuoriescono......è umano...ho detto&lt;br /&gt;un intreccio di sentimenti ed emozioni, a volte succede, non sempre intendiamoci !!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;voglio sentire la tua pelle......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Non intendo raccontare oltre...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3008236004809404750-6953162843257549959?l=teleword.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/6953162843257549959/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=6953162843257549959' title='1 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/6953162843257549959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/6953162843257549959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2007/12/besoins.html' title='besoins   /    bisogni'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-1434390598214948667</id><published>2007-12-11T09:19:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-12-12T18:33:12.870+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Fire me....</title><content type='html'>Coincidenze, mi sono detto….&lt;br /&gt;Fu cosi che delle strane ed invisibili scintille cominciarono a prendere piede, questo lo seppi più tardi…&lt;br /&gt;Tra le intercapedini qualche cosa stava accadendo, una lenta ma inesorabile fiammella stava lentamente crescendo, senza fumo visibile o altre fonti di calore ma adagio adagio cominciava a prendere più spazio….&lt;br /&gt;Dopo all’incirca una settimana successe l’irreparabile…&lt;br /&gt;Oramai la fiammella era cresciuta, ma non tanto, aspettava una ventata di aria fresca per allargarsi ed espandersi, è così avvenne….&lt;br /&gt;Dopo aver aperto leggermente la porta, l’aria che entrò fece divampare la fiamma, non era un fuoco fatuo credetemi…!&lt;br /&gt;Il calore era ovunque, tutti i presenti lo sentivano, la fiamma si trasformò in un piccolo incendio e da quel momento non ci fu più niente da fare….tutti ne furono avvolti e irrimediabilmente compromessi….&lt;br /&gt;L’incendio che ne seguì fu di dimensioni enormi ed austere, impossibile domarlo o cercare di fermarlo, eravamo tutti in balia delle fiamme…calde e pericolose.&lt;br /&gt;Ci bruciammo più volte, ed ancora oggi l’incendio brucia e porta via un pezzo alla volta le cose a lui vicino, aiutate quelle persone ferite dal fuoco non lasciatele sole perché quando l’incendio si placherà resteranno le ceneri ed il dolore di chi il fuoco si è portato via….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coïncidences, je me suis dit… &lt;br /&gt;Ce fut par ces mots que d’étranges et invisibles étincelles commencèrent à prendre forme, ceci je ne le sus que plus tard… &lt;br /&gt;Entre les interstices, quelque chose grandissait, une lente mais inexorable petite flamme croissait discrètement, sans fumée visible ou autres sources de chaleur mais doucement, tout doucement, elle commençait à prendre de l'espace… &lt;br /&gt;En une semaine, l’irréparable arriva… La petite flamme avait crut… pas beaucoup c’est vrai… en fait elle n’attendait qu’un peu d'air pour s’embrasser… et ainsi se déroula les choses… &lt;br /&gt;Après avoir ouvert légèrement la porte, l'air s’infiltra et la flamme s’en nourrit… ce fut loin d’être un feu follet croyez-moi... ! &lt;br /&gt;La chaleur était partout, tous la sentaient, la flamme se transforma dans un incendie et depuis cet instant il n'y eut plus rien à faire… tous furent enveloppés et irrémédiablement compromis… &lt;br /&gt;l'incendie devint énorme et indomptable, impossible de chercher à l'arrêter, impossible de s’en échapper, on étaient tous à la merci de ses flammes chaudes et dangereuses.&lt;br /&gt;Nous nous brûlâmes plus d’une fois, et encore aujourd'hui l'incendie brûle nous consommant à chaque fois un peu plus, emportant avec lui des choses si ardentes et intimes… &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vous, voisins, aider ces personnes blessées par le feu… ne les laissez pas seules… car lorsque l'incendie s’apaisera, ne resteront que les cendres et la douleur des choses que le feu à emporter au loin avec lui…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3008236004809404750-1434390598214948667?l=teleword.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/1434390598214948667/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=1434390598214948667' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/1434390598214948667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/1434390598214948667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2007/12/fire-me.html' title='Fire me....'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-7564427068287731706</id><published>2007-12-06T15:58:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-12-06T16:00:16.253+01:00</updated><title type='text'>incontri....</title><content type='html'>Si incontra tanta gente, a volte velocemente….hi,  salut, ciao.. gente di tutte le lingue e religioni…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;…chi gentile, chi maleducato….&lt;br /&gt;…chi è onesto, chi cerca di fregarti…&lt;br /&gt;…chi ti aiuta, chi meno…&lt;br /&gt;…chi ti vuole conoscere a fondo, chi più superficialmente.&lt;br /&gt;…chi ti vuole amare, chi ti vuole usare…&lt;br /&gt;…chi ti ascolta, chi non sente…&lt;br /&gt;…chi prende il tempo, chi non lo ha…&lt;br /&gt;…chi ti risponde, chi ti  ignora…&lt;br /&gt;…chi ti cerca, chi ti dimentica…&lt;br /&gt;…chi ti prende, chi ti lascia…&lt;br /&gt;…chi rincorre un’utopia, chi si ferma ad ammirare il nulla&lt;br /&gt;…chi ti è amico, chi ti è nemico….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tutto questo è il mio vissuto fino ad ora, ringrazio gli amici presenti oggi &lt;br /&gt;Un benvenuto ad i nuovi….&lt;br /&gt;Un addio a quelli persi…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3008236004809404750-7564427068287731706?l=teleword.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/7564427068287731706/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=7564427068287731706' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/7564427068287731706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/7564427068287731706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2007/12/incontri.html' title='incontri....'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-339282200381623407</id><published>2007-12-04T13:19:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-12-10T08:44:00.207+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Terra bruciata....      Terre brûlée…..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_JCLVZ7yvkKI/R1VWul8bQ6I/AAAAAAAAAOo/nP80xMOxOcc/s1600-h/gai2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_JCLVZ7yvkKI/R1VWul8bQ6I/AAAAAAAAAOo/nP80xMOxOcc/s320/gai2.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5140109908172817314" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..il suo corpo bramava carezze, quando la nostra pelle si sfiorava sentivo le scintille infiltrarsi tra noi, esse poi si trasformavano in calore….e mentre carezzavo questa pelle si levigata, sentivo il suo corpo fremere sotto la pressione della mia mano…..&lt;br /&gt;L’estasi di due corpi uniti nella danza dei due mondi, al sublime piacere di scambiarsi doni ne facevano tutt’uno, corpo e anima….&lt;br /&gt;E mentre i sussulti dello scoprire divenivano languidi movimenti accompagnatori, sentivo il respiro veloce divenire mugolii di piacere….&lt;br /&gt;Il respirare si era trasformato in ansimare, e mentre la passione sfociava in un delirio incontrollato di piacere là, sulla vetta, il nirvana attendeva impaziente…&lt;br /&gt;Il tornado di passione si scagliò contro il nirvana, lo afferrò e lo tenne dentro di sé, lo controllò, ne assaporò ogni suo gemito fino alla sua fine…..&lt;br /&gt;..stanchi..sudati..ma uniti in una salda presa, i due si lasciarono trasportare dalla calma dopo la tempesta….carezze…carezze…carezze……..hmm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-----------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Son corps désirait ardemment les caresses de mes doigts… lorsque nos peaux s'effleuraient, nous sentions des étincelles s'infiltrer en nous, puis une chaleur s’insinua... et pendant que je caressais cette peau si douce, je sentais son corps frissonner sous la pression de ma main... &lt;br /&gt;L'extase de deux corps unis dans la dance des deux mondes… &lt;br /&gt;Oh sublime plaisir que d'échanger ces dons et ne faire qu’un… corps et âme... &lt;br /&gt;Les premières hésitations à se découvrir devinrent de langoureux mouvements harmonieux, je sentais sa respiration rapide devenir des gémissements de plaisir... puis elle ne respira plus, elle haletait … cette passion devint un délire incontrôlé de plaisir … &lt;br /&gt;Là, sur le sommet, le nirvâna attendait impatient... La tornade de passion se lança contre le nirvâna, le saisit, le tint en haleine, le contrôla, il en savoura chaque gémissement jusqu'à la fin…&lt;br /&gt;... fatigués… en sueur... mais unis dans une solide étreinte, les deux corps laissèrent le calme les envahir après cette tempête... caresses... des caresses... hmmmm oh oui encore des caresses…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3008236004809404750-339282200381623407?l=teleword.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/339282200381623407/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=339282200381623407' title='2 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/339282200381623407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/339282200381623407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2007/12/terra-bruciata.html' title='Terra bruciata....      Terre brûlée…..'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_JCLVZ7yvkKI/R1VWul8bQ6I/AAAAAAAAAOo/nP80xMOxOcc/s72-c/gai2.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-4298342315588297436</id><published>2007-11-28T12:16:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-12-03T10:07:27.771+01:00</updated><title type='text'>histoires perdues dans le temps, storie perse nel tempo</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_JCLVZ7yvkKI/R06y_CYGxAI/AAAAAAAAANs/X212WyIYuL4/s1600-h/space3.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_JCLVZ7yvkKI/R06y_CYGxAI/AAAAAAAAANs/X212WyIYuL4/s320/space3.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5138241020915794946" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;queste sono delle storie mai publicate, ringrazio un'amica speciale per avermi aiutato...&lt;br /&gt;Ce sont des histoires jamais publiés , merci a ma spéciale amie pour m'avoir aidé...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Les comments de mon amie&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pensée sur tes textes ....&lt;br /&gt;Tu sais on recontre plus de gens avec qui ont ne peut pas discuter librement, il&lt;br /&gt;y a des limites car chaque être est différent et à des besoins différents ... il&lt;br /&gt;est difficile pour beauoup de gens d'essayer ou de vouloir comprendre les&lt;br /&gt;besoins de l'autre, ils ont peur que l'autre ne sache pas les écouter et&lt;br /&gt;prendre soin d'eux ... on parle chacun un langage différent, on a chacun besoin d'être écouté même quand l'autre ne comprend pas .. je pense qu'on doit chacun essayer d'écouter l'autre et de le comprendre ...même si ce n'est pas toujours facile :)))&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Possession&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Je voulais, je me disais…&lt;br /&gt;Mais que veux-tu toi tele ?&lt;br /&gt;Je ressemblait à deux personnes qui parlaient en même temps, l’ange et le diable..&lt;br /&gt;Pas facile à gérer le diable, quand il sort, il fait toujours des dégâts.&lt;br /&gt;Chimera était là, avec le diable, elle me disait des choses que je ne comprends pas maintenant mais dans ce tourment c’était comme jeter de l’essence sur le feu...&lt;br /&gt;Et clairement le feu s’est allumé et j’ai commencé à dire tout ce que chimera voulait me faire dire, mais après l’ange salvateur arrivait et me faisait réfléchir....&lt;br /&gt;J’étais entre deux feux, je me sentais comme une pendule.&lt;br /&gt;J’ai fais des efforts pour éloigner les mots de chimera, Mais tais-toi immonde diable  tu ne fais que dégénérer les rapports !!&lt;br /&gt;....Elle était là, elle cherchait à m’expliquer, mais dans le fond, qui je suis pour te dire certaines choses je me suis dis ! Pourquoi veux-tu imposer des choix aux autres, pourquoi il devrait te donner des explications ?&lt;br /&gt;Tu es qui pour interférer et juger les autres...&lt;br /&gt;Toutes ces questions passaient sans arrêt dans ma tête et c’est comme ça que chimera  s’est en fuit...&lt;br /&gt;Je crois que je t’ai fait du mal avec ses histoires, pardonne-moi mais je ne sais pas ce que je fais.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;La possession est la fin de la liberté....&lt;br /&gt;La liberté c’est se sentir vivant...&lt;br /&gt;L’amour est de se sentir vivant....&lt;br /&gt;Si je te prends ta liberté, je tue l’amour....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-----------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Possessione&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mi dicevo che volevo…&lt;br /&gt;Ma cosa vuoi tele ?&lt;br /&gt;Da fuori sembravano due persone che parlavano nello stesso tempo, l’angelo ed il diavolo..&lt;br /&gt;Difficile da gestire il diavolo, quando salta fuori, fa sempre dei danni .&lt;br /&gt;Chimera era li, a fianco del diavolo, diceva delle cose che non capivo in quel momento, ma era come buttare benzina sul fuoco...&lt;br /&gt;Chiaramente il fuoco si è acceso e ho cominciato a dire tutto quello che chimera mi voleva far dire, ma allorquando l’angelo salvatore arrivò mi fece riflettere ....&lt;br /&gt;Mi trovavo tra due fuochi,  mi sentivo come una pendola.&lt;br /&gt;Ho dovuto sforzarmi per allontanare le parole di chimera, Maledetto diavolo che fai degenerare i rapporti tra le persone !!&lt;br /&gt;....Era li, cercava di spiegarmi, ma in fondo, chi sono per dirti certe cose , mi sono detto ! perché vuoi imporre le scelte agli altri, perché dovrebbe darti delle spiegazioni ?&lt;br /&gt;Chi sei per interferire e giudicare gli altri...&lt;br /&gt;tutte queste domande passavano senza sosta nelle mia testa e grazie a questo chimera è fuggita...&lt;br /&gt;Penso di averti fatto del male con queste storie, perdonami perché non so quello che faccio.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;essere possessivi è la fine della libertà....&lt;br /&gt;La libertà è sentirsi vivi...&lt;br /&gt;L’amore è sentirsi vivi....&lt;br /&gt;Se prendo la tua libertà, uccido l’amore....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Puis-je voir?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...Mes yeux étaient pleins d’images et mon cœur déjà  me disait....je veux rester ici !!&lt;br /&gt;Vu de l’extérieur, ou pour ceux qui savent pas voir, il y avait pas grand chose de si fantastique, juste un paysage de la Normandie quelconque....&lt;br /&gt;Mais moi, je liais tous ensemble, je voyais les sensations se changer en émotions, une union de plusieurs visions ...mes yeux se remplissaient de cette vue inouïe.&lt;br /&gt;Alors j’ai ouvert la carte, et là j’ai vu l’immensité et la grandeur de ce monde, il y avait plus de 9 sims...&lt;br /&gt;J’ai pris mon temps, je voulais voir chaque centimètre de ce monde, de ce paysage. L’immensité de rien, la puissance du fait qu’il n’y avait personne...je m’imprégnais de ce que je ressentais dans mon cœur : la paix et le vide....&lt;br /&gt;Les gens ne se voient pas ici, trop de superficialité, prennent les choses dans un coup d’œil et sans s’arrêter pour regarder un peux mieux...pour voir les détails, ce qui fait la différence&lt;br /&gt;Se poser des questions, mais pourquoi ? Et pour comprendre les autres, se mettre dans leur peau.&lt;br /&gt;Je vois un château, c’est immense et vraiment beau de l’extérieur, je m’arrête à l’entrée, je veux voir ses entrailles.&lt;br /&gt;Je  prends le temps de voir tous les coins, et pendant que je fais celà je me dis que son créateur devait être quelqu’un de spécial.&lt;br /&gt;Je retourne à l’entrée de ce monde, je vois des dragons chef, je parle avec eux...je leur fais comprendre que je veux vivre ici....&lt;br /&gt;Je ne suis pas un dragon et je ne veux pas le devenir, je leur dis seulement que je suis un SOLITARY KNIGHT......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-----------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;posso vedere ?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...I miei occhi erano colmi d’immagini ed il mio cuore mi diceva……voglio restare qui!!&lt;br /&gt;Visto da fuori, o per quelli che non sanno vedere, non c’erano grandi cose , solo un paesaggio della Normandia qualunque....&lt;br /&gt;Ma io , legavo tutto l’insieme, vedevo le sensazioni trasformarsi in emozioni, un’unione di diverse visioni….i miei occhi si riempivano di questa stupenda vista.&lt;br /&gt;Ho aperto la mappa, ed ho visto l’immensità e la grandezza di questo mondo, c’erano più di 9 sims...&lt;br /&gt;Ho preso tempo, volevo vedere ogni centimetro di questo mondo, di questo paesaggio. L’immensità del nulla, la potenza del fatto che non c’era nessuno...mi immedesimavo in quello che il mio cuore sentiva : la pace ed il vuoto....&lt;br /&gt;Le persone non si guardano spesso dentro, troppo superficiali, prendono  le cose alla leggera, un colpo d’occhio , e senza fermarsi per guardar meglio...per vedere i dettagli, quello che fà la differenza d’altronde.&lt;br /&gt;Farsi delle domande, ma perchè ? e per comprendere gli altri, cercare di mettersi nei loro panni.&lt;br /&gt;Vedo un castello, è immenso e veramente bello da fuori, atterra  all’entrata, voglio vedere i suoi interni.&lt;br /&gt;Mi prendo il tempo per guardare ogni suo angolo, e durante questo mi dico che il suo costruttore deve essere qualc’uno di speciale.&lt;br /&gt;Ritorno alle porte del mondo, vedo i dragoni capi, parlo con loro…..cerco di fargli capire che che vorrei vivere qui....&lt;br /&gt;Non sono un dragone e non voglio diventarlo, gli dico solo che sono un cavaliere solitario......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3008236004809404750-4298342315588297436?l=teleword.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/4298342315588297436/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=4298342315588297436' title='2 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/4298342315588297436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/4298342315588297436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2007/11/histoires-perdues-dans-le-temps-storie.html' title='histoires perdues dans le temps, storie perse nel tempo'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JCLVZ7yvkKI/R06y_CYGxAI/AAAAAAAAANs/X212WyIYuL4/s72-c/space3.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-588998282541911523</id><published>2007-11-27T08:14:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-11-27T08:17:46.242+01:00</updated><title type='text'>voix.... / voci...</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Voix...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J’étais devant la porte et, ma main elle avait déjà pris la poignée pour ouvrir quand, ca me sanblait d’entendre quelque chose....STOP !&lt;br /&gt;Dans un moment j’ai senti mon estomac devenir chaud de plus en plus, et une petite voix me disait  «  tu te rappelle....... ? »&lt;br /&gt;La chaleur était insupportable, je cherchais une voie de sortie mais mon Corp. restait immeuble, ca semblait qu’il voulait écouter mais pourquoi je me disais ?&lt;br /&gt;Il fait chaud, tu dois t’éloigner d’ici, je criais.. !!!&lt;br /&gt;Ma main laisse la prise, et mon Corp. ca semble rentrer dans une catalepsie profond il est plus capable de faire aucune mouvement, il semble nager dans les nouages à la recherche de quoi et de qui...&lt;br /&gt;Je dois reseter tous, je me disais, autrement pas question de s’en sortir avec nos jambes, et alors c’étais le moment ou j’ai dû tout désactiver, fermer......USER IS NOT ONLINE, mais la dernière chose que j’ai lu s’était.........QUIT........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Voci…&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ero davanti la porta e la mia mano teneva già in mano la maniglia per aprire quando, mi è sembrato di udire qualche cosa…..STOP !&lt;br /&gt;In un attimo ho sentito il mio stomaco divenire sempre più caldo, il calore mi si diffondeva nel corpo, una piccola voce fioca mi diceva  «  ti ricordi....... »&lt;br /&gt;Il calore era insopportabile, cercavo una via d’uscita ma il mio corpo restava immobile, sembrava quasi che volesse ascoltare ma perchè mi chiedevo?&lt;br /&gt;Fa caldo, devi andare via di qua, gridavo.. !!!&lt;br /&gt;La mia mano lascia la presa, ed il mio corpo sembra entrare in una catalessi profonda, non è più capace di fare nessun movimento, sembra nuotare tra le nuvole alla ricerca di cosa e di chi......?&lt;br /&gt;Devo resettare tutto, mi dicevo, altrimenti scordiamoci di uscirne con le proprie gambe!  era arrivato il momento dove ho dovuto disattivare tutto, chiudere......USER IS NOT online, ma l’ultima cosa che ho potuto leggere era.........QUIT........&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3008236004809404750-588998282541911523?l=teleword.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/588998282541911523/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=588998282541911523' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/588998282541911523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/588998282541911523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2007/11/voix-voci.html' title='voix.... / voci...'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-5134586538202360108</id><published>2007-11-20T14:37:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-12-04T09:12:01.334+01:00</updated><title type='text'>la fenice</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_JCLVZ7yvkKI/R1ULw18bQ4I/AAAAAAAAAOY/7O22WzFYpns/s1600-h/Phoenix12.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_JCLVZ7yvkKI/R1ULw18bQ4I/AAAAAAAAAOY/7O22WzFYpns/s320/Phoenix12.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5140027483455439746" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;La fenice, storia di una morte annunciata&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;L’ho conosciuta, la fenice, raro uccello dai molteplici colori che in una notte di fine estate mi ha sbarrato il cammino.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mi ha portato sulle cime del suo mondo, mi ha fatto conoscere le sue usanze ed ho apprezzato il suo modo di vedere e di pensare…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dagli sfavillanti colori ed un portamento principesco s’intrecciavano momenti di solitudine e tristezza.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ho vissuto con lei momenti di gioia, pur sapendo che il destino era scritto, il suo nome non tradiva doveva finire un giorno….Ma pur conoscendo il destino, chimera mi faceva intravedere una possibile via d’uscita…col senno di poi la chiamerò utopia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quando se n’è andata, le ceneri nere e grigie mostravano senza possibilità alcuna, la fine…Ma anche se questa desolazione lasciata dalla sua assenza era incolmabile, io sapevo….!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;…..Sarebbe tornata prima o poi, non uguale ma simile, e questa consapevolezza aiutava a rendere meno triste la sua assenza.&lt;br /&gt;Ringraziandola  per quel che aveva saputo donarmi, posai un fiore tra le ceneri e me ne andai.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**********************************************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;La fenice, l'histoire d'une morte annoncée&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Je l'ai connue, la fenice, rare oiseau aux multiples couleurs qui dans une nuit de fin été m'a barré le chemin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Elle m'a porté sur les sommets de son monde, elle m'a fait connaître ses usages et j'ai apprécié sa façon de voir et de penser...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A de lumineuses couleurs et à une attitude princière, se tressaient des instants de solitude et de tristesse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J'ai vécu avec elle des instants de joie, aussi sachant que le destin errait autour d'elle, son nom ne trahissait pas et devait finir un jour... Connaissant ainsi son destin, ma chimère me faisait entre voir une possible voie de sortie... celle-ci maintenant je l'appellerai utopie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lorsqu'elle s'en est allée, les cendres noires et grises montraient indubitablement la fin... Mais même si cette désolation, meutrie de son absence, était irremplaçable, je savais....!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... elle reviendrait tôt ou tard, pas égale mais semblable, et cette pensée aidait à rendre moins triste son absence. En la remerciant pour ce qu'elle avait su m'offrir, je posais une fleur sur ses cendres et je m'en allait.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3008236004809404750-5134586538202360108?l=teleword.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/5134586538202360108/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=5134586538202360108' title='2 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/5134586538202360108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/5134586538202360108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2007/11/la-fenice.html' title='la fenice'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_JCLVZ7yvkKI/R1ULw18bQ4I/AAAAAAAAAOY/7O22WzFYpns/s72-c/Phoenix12.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-3628424693560876182</id><published>2007-11-20T12:58:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-11-22T12:29:18.022+01:00</updated><title type='text'>November Rain</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;les belles choses ont toujours une fin, amis soyés attentives que tôt ou tard nous serons appelés.....&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;le belle cose hanno sempre una fine, amici state attenti che prima o poi tocca a noi.....&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed style="width:400px; height:326px;" id="VideoPlayback" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://video.google.com/googleplayer.swf?docId=1809825642973287105&amp;hl=it" flashvars=""&gt; &lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3008236004809404750-3628424693560876182?l=teleword.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/3628424693560876182/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=3628424693560876182' title='2 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/3628424693560876182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/3628424693560876182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2007/11/november-rain.html' title='November Rain'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-8814437746083810776</id><published>2007-11-19T09:17:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-11-19T09:25:59.828+01:00</updated><title type='text'>pensieri.....</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;....TI AMO PERCHÈ NE HO BISOGNO, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;NON PERCHÈ HO BISOGNO DI TÈ........&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***************&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;.....I LOVE YOU BACAUSE I NEED TO,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;NOT'CAUSE I NEEDED YOU.......&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;**************&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;zucchero (mama)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3008236004809404750-8814437746083810776?l=teleword.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/8814437746083810776/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=8814437746083810776' title='2 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/8814437746083810776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/8814437746083810776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2007/11/pensieri.html' title='pensieri.....'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-3890323371735417821</id><published>2007-11-13T14:38:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T15:41:35.116+01:00</updated><title type='text'>zucchero</title><content type='html'>diamante    oppure    di-amante  ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-d013500665766fd8" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v1.nonxt5.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dd013500665766fd8%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331150950%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3DD4CFD59CB65F528648ACA9530BCA53F1CC219AF.399D9D0D7A73DD5C106B82DADA05686CCA04CB1F%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dd013500665766fd8%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DhV3o6tawS2EXu-Ukhx5lNE4yJhg&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v1.nonxt5.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dd013500665766fd8%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331150950%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3DD4CFD59CB65F528648ACA9530BCA53F1CC219AF.399D9D0D7A73DD5C106B82DADA05686CCA04CB1F%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dd013500665766fd8%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DhV3o6tawS2EXu-Ukhx5lNE4yJhg&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3008236004809404750-3890323371735417821?l=teleword.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=d013500665766fd8&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/3890323371735417821/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=3890323371735417821' title='2 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/3890323371735417821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/3890323371735417821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2007/11/zucchero.html' title='zucchero'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-8552615535328633863</id><published>2007-11-13T13:23:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-11-22T12:43:21.596+01:00</updated><title type='text'>il buio nell'anima , obscuritè d'âme</title><content type='html'>O tu viandante che ti incammini per queste selve oscure, saprai donarmi un po’ del tuo essere… saprai farti riconoscere nello smarrimento….&lt;br /&gt;Quante volte dovremo parlarci per comprenderci….&lt;br /&gt;sei pronto a darmi conforto quando avrò smarrito l’anima…&lt;br /&gt;E se ci sei poiché esisti, perché ti nascondi da me….&lt;br /&gt;Quanto tempo dovrò aspettare prima di incontrarti….&lt;br /&gt;Quanto tempo sosterai nel mio essere….&lt;br /&gt;Quanto dolore dovrò sopportare e quanto ne sto vivendo..&lt;br /&gt;Perché tanta sofferenza…?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;""""""""""""""""""""""""""&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ou tu viandant que tu marche sur ce chemin dans ces forêts obscures, sauras-tu m'offrir un peu de ton être...&lt;br /&gt;Sauras-tu te faire reconnaître dans la perte....&lt;br /&gt;Combien de fois devrons-nous nous parler pour nous comprendre....&lt;br /&gt;Es-tu prête à me donner réconfort lorsque mon âme sera égarée...&lt;br /&gt;Et si tu es ,  puisque t'existes, parce que tu te caches de moi....&lt;br /&gt;Combien de temps devrai-je attendre avant de te rencontrer....&lt;br /&gt;Combien de temps t'arrêteras-tu dans mon être....&lt;br /&gt;Combien de douleur devrai-je supporter et combien j'en vis.&lt;br /&gt;Pourquoi autant  souffrance... ?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3008236004809404750-8552615535328633863?l=teleword.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/8552615535328633863/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=8552615535328633863' title='0 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/8552615535328633863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/8552615535328633863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2007/11/il-buio-nellanima.html' title='il buio nell&apos;anima , obscuritè d&apos;âme'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-8659767642880610615</id><published>2007-11-07T17:20:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2007-11-22T12:51:56.469+01:00</updated><title type='text'>double face of</title><content type='html'>Je te connais, dans le fond....Avec ces mots je cherchais une justification a ton comportement mais en moi je n’arrivais pas a comprendre et donc je ne pouvais pas l’accepter.&lt;br /&gt;La lune était toujours là, devant moi, mon visage était bien éclairé par cette lumière étrange et dans l’obscurité elle était là telle un guide pour les gents perdus.&lt;br /&gt;Peut être les gents qui on perdu leur esprit, mais aussi les gents qui ont oublié que il y a toujours une autre coté de la lune, the double face of the moon.&lt;br /&gt;Je me suis levé, et j’ai commencé à voler vers elle, je voulais voir son autre coté.&lt;br /&gt;Après quelques heures, j’ai finalement compris que mon désir, il était impossible de l’obtenir...le soleil arrivait enexorablement.&lt;br /&gt;Pendant ces rares secondes mes yeux ont aperçus, il y avait deux soleils ou deux lunes, je ne peux pas dire vraiment qu’est ce que j’ai vu! Mais j’ai vue le deux cotés et j’ai compris... je les ai accepté&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3008236004809404750-8659767642880610615?l=teleword.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/8659767642880610615/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=8659767642880610615' title='2 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/8659767642880610615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/8659767642880610615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2007/11/double-face-of.html' title='double face of'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-987406185048657196</id><published>2007-11-07T17:17:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-11-26T12:46:27.171+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Hug me</title><content type='html'>Encore une fois, je me disais, pas possible !&lt;br /&gt;...Un baisse d’esprit....mais si tu es si fort normalement!&lt;br /&gt;Ce n’est pas ton esprit tele, c’est ta tête, tu t’attends des gents quelque chose qu’ils ne voient pas, alors t’en fais pas et laisse tomber....&lt;br /&gt;Oui je savais ça, mais j'avais le moral dans les chaussettes....&lt;br /&gt;Il me faut quelque chose pour me reprendre, une petite chose qui me donne la force de continuer mon chemin, pour me prouver que ça vaut la peine de continuer !!&lt;br /&gt;Alors j’ai crié, au secours mes amis...!&lt;br /&gt;Personne ne répondait, ils étaient tous occupés, à la fin j’ai lu un mot « j’arrive».....&lt;br /&gt;Ce mot il m’a fait retrouver un peu mon souris :) ..... A la fin il y avait quelqu’un....&lt;br /&gt;Il est venu, il a pris de son temps pour moi, et il m’a donné un gros HUG....c’était suffisant pour continuer le chemin.....merci pica:)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3008236004809404750-987406185048657196?l=teleword.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/987406185048657196/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=987406185048657196' title='2 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/987406185048657196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/987406185048657196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2007/11/hug-me.html' title='Hug me'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-1600044983606618431</id><published>2007-11-07T09:36:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-11-07T09:54:05.234+01:00</updated><title type='text'>senza parole....</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-e5af654663f6bfee" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v8.nonxt5.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3De5af654663f6bfee%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331150950%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D37BDEAA36F5BC07C744512FA73CB2F249821B29C.55AEFCD151ED6700A0573DF24AC111E0F03A4E92%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3De5af654663f6bfee%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DnA1EgWC8Z0RaOxLBdW4GuJ_Jd8I&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v8.nonxt5.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3De5af654663f6bfee%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331150950%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D37BDEAA36F5BC07C744512FA73CB2F249821B29C.55AEFCD151ED6700A0573DF24AC111E0F03A4E92%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3De5af654663f6bfee%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DnA1EgWC8Z0RaOxLBdW4GuJ_Jd8I&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Ho guardato dentro una bugia&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; e ho capito che è una malattia &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;che alla fine non si può guarire mai &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;e ho cercato di convincermi&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; ... che tu non ce l'hai. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;E ho guardato dentro casa tua&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; e ho capito che era una follia&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; avere pensato che fossi soltanto mia&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; e ho cercato di dimenticare&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; di non guardare.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; E ho guardato la televisione&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; e mi è venuta come l'impressione&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; che mi stessero rubando il tempo e che tu...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; ... che tu mi rubi l'amore&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; ma poi ho camminato tanto e fuori&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; c'era un gran rumore... &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;che non ho più pensato a tutte queste cose. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;E ho guardato dentro un'emozione&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; e ci ho visto dentro tanto amore&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; che ho capito perché non si comanda al cuore&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;vasco rossi&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3008236004809404750-1600044983606618431?l=teleword.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=e5af654663f6bfee&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/1600044983606618431/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=1600044983606618431' title='2 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/1600044983606618431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/1600044983606618431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2007/11/senza-parole.html' title='senza parole....'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-632851678864012811</id><published>2007-11-04T16:25:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-11-07T15:02:18.410+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Il grande freddo , le grand froid</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_JCLVZ7yvkKI/Ry3lmzz0DxI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Z0R51xxpsEk/s1600-h/neve3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129008005550182162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_JCLVZ7yvkKI/Ry3lmzz0DxI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Z0R51xxpsEk/s320/neve3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ero arrivato da poco in cima, il vento cominciava a soffiare ed anche i miei capelli scompigliati se ne accorsero, davanti a mè ampie distese bianche si aprirono ai miei occhi.&lt;br /&gt;Il mio corpo intirizzito , come in una specie di posizione fetale, cercava di non disperdere il calore in tanto freddo…i polpastrelli delle dita in un lento formicolio, mi annunciavano il disagio.&lt;br /&gt;Che sia questo grande terreno arido, ma nel contempo splendido, quello che sento dentro di mè ? Non potei che sedermi un attimo ad ammirare la neve ed i suoi contorni, i suoni ovattati ed il bianco angelico della neve sul paesaggio.&lt;br /&gt;Mi sedetti sopra uno spuntone di roccia che sorgeva dalle nevi, ad ascoltare il silenzio ed ad aspettare che il sole mi riscaldasse la pelle.&lt;br /&gt;I miei pensieri riaffioravano , come in un lento disgelo , e mi chiedevo ancora una volta il perché di tante emozioni siano esse belle o brutte, le credevo estinte o per lo meno gestibili, controllabili. Il dragone si posò accanto a mè, ma non mostrava nessun segno di disagio, anzi sotto la sua grande bocca sembrava disegnarsi un sorriso, quasi diabolico…&lt;br /&gt;Rimanemmo a guardarci l'uno l'altro per capire chi dei due avrebbe fatto la prima mossa, passarono le ore e i miei occhi sentivano la stanchezza posarsi come un mantello caldo….non mi sentivo in pericolo , mi addormentai.&lt;br /&gt;Al mio risveglio, ( non so quanto possa aver dormito?) il dragone mi circondava con il suo corpo .&lt;br /&gt;Mi stava riscaldando, ed io non capivo, ma come ? eravamo nemici pensai, ed invece mi sta facendo vivere con il suo calore…questo fu sufficiente a farmi sentire al sicuro, mi riaddormentai cullato dal suo corpo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Le grand froid&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Il y avait peu de temps que j'étais arrivé en haut, le vent commençai de souffler et aussi mes cheveux ébouriffés ils ce sont aperçus, devant moi un vaste horizon blanc s’ouvrait ouverte devant mes yeux &lt;br /&gt; Mon corps engourdi s’embrassait dans une sorte de position fœtale, cherchait de ne pas dispenser la chaleur entre tout ce froid....les bouts de mes doigts dans un lents fourmillement, m'annonçait un malaise.&lt;br /&gt;Qu'est cet immense terrain aride, mais entre-temps splendide, ce que je sens dedans moi ?&lt;br /&gt; J’ai du m'asseoir un moment pour admirer la neige et ses environs, les sons feutrés et le blanche angélique de la neige sur le paysage.&lt;br /&gt;Je me suis assis sur une saillie de la roche dressée par la neige, et j’ai écouté le silence, en attendant que le soleil me réchauffe la peau.&lt;br /&gt; Mes pensées remontaient en surface, comme dans un lent dégel, et je me demandais encore une fois le pourquoi d’autant d’émotions..... soit elles belles ou laides, je leur croyais éteintes ou quand même gérable, contrôlables.&lt;br /&gt; Le dragon se posa auprès de moi, mais il n’était pas mal à l’aise, au contraire sur sa grande bouche il semblait se dessiner un sourire, presque diabolique...&lt;br /&gt; Nous nous  sommes regardés l'un à l'autre, pour comprendre qui ente les deux ferait le premier mouvement, des heures passèrent et mes yeux sentaient la fatigue se poser comme un manteau chaud... je ne me sentais pas en danger, me suis endormis.&lt;br /&gt; À mon réveil, (combien de temps avais-je dormi ?) le dragon m'entourait avec son corps.&lt;br /&gt; Il me réchauffait, et je ne comprenais pas, mais comment ? On était des ennemis je pensai, et toutefois il me faisait vivre avec sa chaleur... ceci fut suffisant à me faire sentir a l'aise, je me suis rendormis bercé par son corps. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Telemaco&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3008236004809404750-632851678864012811?l=teleword.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/632851678864012811/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=632851678864012811' title='2 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/632851678864012811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/632851678864012811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2007/11/il-grande-freddo.html' title='Il grande freddo , le grand froid'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_JCLVZ7yvkKI/Ry3lmzz0DxI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Z0R51xxpsEk/s72-c/neve3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3008236004809404750.post-2839320773056072360</id><published>2007-10-30T13:44:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-11-26T14:27:23.628+01:00</updated><title type='text'>donner... ,      dare.....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_JCLVZ7yvkKI/RyngdTz0DXI/AAAAAAAAAAc/AqHl9DsVokg/s1600-h/Snapshot_002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5127876444876442994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_JCLVZ7yvkKI/RyngdTz0DXI/AAAAAAAAAAc/AqHl9DsVokg/s320/Snapshot_002.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_JCLVZ7yvkKI/RydsYjz0DWI/AAAAAAAAAAU/CKInbqdjs9c/s1600-h/Snapshot_002.bmp"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;...j'etais encore entrain de parler avec elle, je pensais à son bien etre.. Mais oui, c'est normal , elle est mon amie je dois l'aider...&lt;br /&gt;Les jours passent, et jour apres jour j'etais heureus de pouvoir parler si profondement avec elle et eux, mes amis....je vais tout lui donner .&lt;br /&gt;la musique elle etait forte, j'aimè pas trop le gendre , je change SIM et d'amie...musique different mais je ne sent plus rien.... c'est quoi je me dis?&lt;br /&gt;Pourquoi je ne sent plus rien, elle me parle.... mais je n'ai plus de mot a dire, ja'i envie seulement de m'en aller loin.... je veux me relaxer c'est tout, c'est normal tu as peu dormi , c'est tard mon vieux, tout ca ce passait dans ma têtê ! elle cherchait des justification a tout ca....&lt;br /&gt;j'etais tout seul chez le grattoir de Sand, je me suis tp là parce que je savais qu'il y avait personne, personne que pouvais m'aider....et apres , une sentation de solitude...&lt;br /&gt;j'aime quelc'un qui me hug un peu, j'en ressens le besoin, I NEED !! j'ai crièe...&lt;br /&gt;je me sentais ci vide....&lt;br /&gt;un àme elle as rèpondue a mes messages insensè , parfois inconprensible, je l'ai vue arriver c'etait un ànge.....&lt;br /&gt;...apres le prèmier hug je me sentais dejà mieux!&lt;br /&gt;mais il m'en a fallu trois pour arriver a me dêtendre...&lt;br /&gt;elle est rester avec moi, oui elle etais une ânge femme, vision cèleste..jusqu'à quand je me suis endormì...sur le grattoir de Sand.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;....stavo ancora parlando con lei, pensavo solo a farla stare meglio... Ma si, è normale , e una mia amica e devo aiutarla...&lt;br /&gt;I giorni passarono, e giorno dopo giorno ero felice di poter parlare così profondamente con lei e loro, i miei amici….gli do tutto quello che posso.&lt;br /&gt;La musica era forte, non mi paceva troppo il genere, cambio di SIM e d’amici…musica differente ma non sentivo più niente .... che succede, mi dico?&lt;br /&gt;Perché non sento più niente, mi sta parlando.... ma mi mancano le parole , ho solo voglia di andare via di qui, lontano .... voglio solo  rilassarmi, è normale hai dormito poco , è tardi vecchio mio,  tutte queste affermazioni passavano per la mia testa ! cercava una giustificazione a tutto questo....&lt;br /&gt;Ero tutto solo vicino al grattatoio di Sand , mi sono tp li perchè sapevo che non c’era nessuno, nessuno che poteva aiutarmi....e dopo, una sensazione di solitudine...&lt;br /&gt;Vorrei che  qualche d’uno mi hug un po, ne sento il bisogno, I NEED !! ho gridato...&lt;br /&gt;Mi sentivo così vuoto....&lt;br /&gt;Un anima ha risposta hai miei messaggi insensati, penso incomprensibili, l’ho vista arrivare , era un angelo.....&lt;br /&gt;...dopo il primo hug mi sentivo già meglio!&lt;br /&gt;Ma ne ho avuti bisogno tre per distendermi veramente...&lt;br /&gt;È rimasta con mè , si era un angelo femmina, visione celeste....fino a quando mi sono addormentato....sul grattatoio di Sand.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3008236004809404750-2839320773056072360?l=teleword.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/feeds/2839320773056072360/comments/default' title='Commenti sul post'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3008236004809404750&amp;postID=2839320773056072360' title='2 Commenti'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/2839320773056072360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3008236004809404750/posts/default/2839320773056072360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://teleword.blogspot.com/2007/10/le-vide.html' title='donner... ,      dare.....'/><author><name>Telemaco</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10563973536381188884</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_JCLVZ7yvkKI/RyngdTz0DXI/AAAAAAAAAAc/AqHl9DsVokg/s72-c/Snapshot_002.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
