What Skates Does Ovechkin Use?

arrived today, first post.

opening the first post on a new platform,
I do not know
it and not know anybody, I have to ask:
But I, the early, who are they?
are very different pictures I have of me
in very different stages of life.
do not know anyone here, do not even know me.
What the hell we will write in here I have no idea.
I could start from the beginning:

The killing of the pig
(I'm not the pig. Yes, I am a little pig, but I have not been killed)


When I was little, every year in November, killed the pig.
My father bought the smallest and most dilapidated prchè cost less and are fatter then lovingly throughout the year.
pigs were happy at home, had a sty on the bottom to the garden, muddy enough for the beast.
In the days of my birthday it is killed.
were always gray and dark days, those dell'ammazzamento.
Low clouds and drizzle. O
fog.
was the time before the snow that then fell every year. Sometimes the poor
escaped and was not to be hit by knife in my heart and ran across the yard being chased by men.
The pigs are not animals fast.
Then came the turn of shaving, was placed in a wooden tub truncated cone, the water on the fire next to have it hot and shaved sharp spatula.
the evening stood out in the huge hall, hung upside down to drain the blood.
White in the rind and black inside, torn from top to bottom, disturbing for me baby. It was the morning
impression that he was alive.
But the next day he did the sausages, hams and The Zion, the kitchen was hot and the fire was burning strong.
My uncle, my father and amateur butchers quartered, sliced \u200b\u200band chopped, helped by women.
the evening were friends and relatives and my father, who had a great tenor voice, sang the arias.
not remember who play the accordion, but my uncle played the mandolin.
and ate, all that you could not keep, we ate.
What a party!
thinking now, maybe it was my mother happy in those nights, he was just over twenty years and all had less than thirty years.
Then came a new skinny pig, my mother still tells of what seemed to fail to survive instead became a giant no longer know what an enormous weight.
meat throughout the year.
If I believed in God say that God knows what we needed, in Ferrara, in those years of cold fog and unemployment.