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Loumyx! News

In the near future, Earth has been destroyed by what survivors call the "project collapse. Some people have managed to save their lives and land on Liff, a planet where a magical nature and wild living with advanced technology. There the land discovered the golems, peaceful iron giants who know the secret of Loumyx, a precious mineral that provides this place clean energy and that only they are able to extract without unleashing the wrath of the spirit that protects these moors resplendent ... The coexistence between humans and robots majestic lasted long in harmony, yet the petty greed of a man will begin the destruction of well-being. Only a small group of brave is determined to fight with all his might to prevent the new world may suffer the same sad fate as the Earth ...

is the text of the summary on the back cover of my first book and I chose the picture you see the top 8, resplendent, pages of sketches (Drawn by the incredible Sapo ) that you find on this edition only. Now that I informed you of this little surprise too, nothing can hold you to buy Loumyx a great idea for a nice Christmas present :-)

... in futuro non troppo lontano one, Terra è stata da quello che distrutta superstiti ricordano come il "progetto collapse. "Some human beings have managed to escape and land on Liff, a magical place where nature and wild living with the most advanced technology. Here the land they found the golem, who know the peaceful giant steel the secret of Loumyx, a mineral that can to provide clean energy to the whole planet and that only they can pull out without triggering the wrath of the spirit that protects these lands pleasant ... The peaceful coexistence between humans and robots impressive lasted long, but now the greed of are few to destroy the happiness of all and only a small group of brave is determined to fight to prevent the new world should meet the same fate Earth ...

This is the text of the back cover of my first book and as an opening for this post I chose one of the 8 wonderful pages of sketches at the bottom of the volume (only in This first edition) by the always masterful Sapo . Now that you know also this bonus, nothing can stop you from buying Loumyx great gift idea for Christmas :-)

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Et vous Voulez acheter de cadeau a Noël en avance ... / And if you want to buy a Christmas gift in advance ...

Vous pouvez acheter

Loumyx ICI avec un grand Escompte / You can buy Loumyx HERE with a considerable discount.

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Loumyx east fate!

Here is a small preview. You can order our album on Fnac and Amazon .

I will give you new info soon ... Stay tuned ;-)

Ecco una piccola

anteprima. Potete ordinare he knew nostro volume Fnac e Amazon .

presto nuove informazioni Vi daro ... Restate connessi ;-)

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Sortie d'Urgence-Prière de ne pas stationner.

- "I want to receive as a Christmas present. Possibly a bit 'before. A kiss."

...

- "Honey, you know that you can not. = (Search for a holiday gift to give you more attention. ...




2:48 a few days later. Current mood? TORN!


Thought fixed. Nostalgia for those few words, as telegraph that were tinged with blue, gray-black that is my world.
I blame the usual faults. I pay the same mistakes, which, although often seem to not want me ever committed to the right lessons. Errors without morals.
exactly the same tears I cry. The same salt in the wounds re-discoveries are sometimes equal to those children who enjoy remove the crust from the scraped knee a few days before. Even I can feel the burn of alcohol. I too feel the same unbearable smell. Listening
consoling words. Rotten inside. It is a process of returning the ashes. I'm not a phoenix, I do not know from the ashes reborn. I can not.
I try to keep busy, to distract me. I know it's a waste of time, the mind sometimes does not seem to listen. Anyway, it is true to the heart can not control.
should myself much easier because the grueling this ungrateful indifference and silence. I'm not made of steel. I have a weak heart. Or maybe not have it any more.
I feel immensely far away. Yet there is only 32 minutes by tram. How can you fill this immense distance?
I feel helpless, defenseless, unarmed. I stop breathing. The walls of my arteries thicken, pemettono not any more gas exchange. Dyspnea-A contract. I have air hunger. I hunger for you.
It's cold. Froze the bones. I need warmth.
am a prisoner in my ivory tower created by those damn feelings. Protected in a glass case where I did not want to be asked.
Protected from what? I'm the worst enemy of myself. It is not very smart to leave at the mercy of my rival. It's like leaving a hostage in the hands of his kidnapper, is like being trapped in a burning building. Any way out is blocked.
am prisoner of my love for you.


Please, moved from there, let me at least the emergency exit.


- A PB damn my jailer.

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- Touché.

believe that everything happens by chance, without a reason. You! Not everyone can have a rational explanation. We also need to dogmas, certainly if the doctrine does not concern you directly. Do you know what a dogma is not it? You know, those mysteries without explanation, to which even science knows an answer. They are almost taboo subjects, subjects without arguments possible. You have to take them for what they are.
Even everyday events. Here! Now imagine everything is a dogma. You need to take it for what it is. You can not ask why it happened. Take it for what it is.
I think it's like suddenly everything lighter. Your mind is tabula rasa, no more guesswork and complicated, no troubled thoughts and sleepless nights wondering why, why and why not find a plausible explanation, and maybe worth a false answer to your "something".
You should really start doing it. But you know how much you will save Rogne, we save? I'm telling you from the heart. We know both how bad you know. You know very well that strong double-edged sword is the word. You know just as well the negative thoughts that are harmful, poisonous. These then can attack even the smallest of your cells, they can manipulate it, play it. And suddenly everything can metastasize. Become a cancer, a nice big scab.
and unjustified by the phrase: "Yes, but the man is a thinking being, and that is what sets him apart from the beasts." The beast, however, is clever, it is smart. See where this is closer to the fire: the look, it examines, studies. But it is not cracked. And you? You who believe a thinking being? You're the one that is always burned.


- Touché.

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rains. And I want a sense of irresponsibility.

is all a nightmare. It's just a run-down image projected in the darkness of my thoughts.
Soon I wake up, I know I'll wake up!
pass the seconds, minutes, hours, days.
It can not last forever!
Meanwhile, it is dark outside. It is night.
When will the dawn? When the sun will arise again?. In
anxiously awaiting anxiety consumed me.
raining! Every drop that reaches the ground like a hammer beating on my head.
And the pain is strong enough to make me unconscious for a moment.
And I? I continue to hope that quest'incoscienza to be maintained. Duri
forever! But when I realize the impossibility of this happening is already too late.
I'm already thinking. I keep thinking. I still hurt me.
My thinking is wrong.
There is no cure!
Unconsciousness is a sweet goal to be achieved. Sublime but remote.
an isolated island in a sea of \u200b\u200bthoughts.
horrible thought that no matter how horrible they may be, are the only company in this vast solitude.

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twelfths! Douzième place!

I bring you good news that we learned from the site " EN TOUT BD "(the site of the competition, however, can be found HERE )

Here is the article:

" For the second consecutive year, Internet users have Bédée voted for the award for best trailer of the year. During the night of the "Elephants d'Or Festival of Cartoon Chambéry in Savoy, the prize went to" Alice in Wonderland ", edited by Drugstore and signed by the couple Chauvel et Collette.

But

if you look at the chart you will find " Loumyx " in twelfth position: this award, of which we are excited, we arrived even before leaving the volume! Thanks to all Internet users e. .. so what better way to cover the trailer?

Je vous une bonne nouvelle relationship Apprise par le site " EN TOUT BD ." Voici l'article:

"For the second consecutive year, users voted for the price of Bédéo trailer comic of the year. On the evening of the Golden Elephant festival BD Chambery in the Savoie, the price rewarded "Alice in Wonderland", published by Drugstore and signed Chauvel and Collette.

Ranking:

• 1. Alice in Wonderland - Drugstore
• 2. Resistors - The Lombard
• 3. Wakfu Heroes, raven black - Ankama
• 4. Zombillenium, Gretchen - Dupuis
• 5. Blast carcass Grasse - Dargaud
• 6. Second luck, death and stubborn - Wide Angle
• 7. Chronicles the immortals on the Brink - Pack
• 8. Guin Saga - Kaze manga
• 9. Broken Blade - Doki Doki
• 10. Zone, sentinel - Glénat
• 11. General Store - Casterman
• 12. Loumyx - Moonlight
• 13. Ida, greatness and humiliation - Delcourt
• 14. Hôzuki Island - Ki-oon
• 15. Guy Wolf - Tonkam
• 16. The motorcycle enthusiasts - Bamboo
• 17. Four of the Baker Street - West Wind

We are in the standings and we are enthousiast de ce résultat est here Arrivé avant de la sortie du premier tome! A large market à tous les surfers: c'est une bonne occasion pour revoir band-annonce encore une fois :-)

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Say, do e..


MIXES ... thoughts and words in my head and I sail with the wildest imagination ...
STRIKES ... suddenly your mind and let my thoughts ... The sound is empty ... It comes
taste of deceit ...
REVERSES ... Thoughts and words ... and what comes out is not much different dark shadow that has given birth ...
Observe ... With whom I admired surroundings, shades of light that casts strong enough to blur the view ...
LISTENING ... The other ... without participation
NOTES ... "The scrum is the greatest paradox of this society worn ...
E 'poisoned the emblem is the space between the reality of heaven and dreams carried by clouds ...
The future will show how the legacy of memories, like the shadow sharp boundary between the two thoughts ...
I shall outline the direction that has been cut from what will be ...

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Wie spät ist es? Heute weiß ich es nicht.


starts getting cold, and even the darkness is upon us. It is freezing cold and penetrating. Of those that gets in the bones and slowly destroys them. It's a cold that you freeze the heart and soul. There is a single source of heat: the human warmth. That heat, even on the coldest days, those days of snow and ice and fog, is able to touch her cheeks with a single glance. Can you shine the eyes of a strange light that reflects more than a thousand colors. A new light purer than that of the sun. But so far so good!



time, damn time. Scroll faster than you should! And every moment that you are thinking about them is a moment stolen. I've stolen many of its moments. And if they served at least something! It is a theft that has the smell of a whim, the taste of meanness, and is colored gray and black. I guess I need that light ...



"You need a jolt! A shock that will move me from that damn emotion that makes you easy prey for that game." In my mind, the voice of my conscience was repeating those same words. But because the game called? I do not mica'm having fun!



I'd call one of those names, at least for once, and do not hear, "absent."

Why do I write? Because I hope to be able to escape this time? I laugh. I am a poor deluded. I get left ten minutes ahead. When I hear the'll pull the noose tight neck, and stramazzerò back to the ground. I hate the smell of gunpowder. Prevents me from breathing more closely the same.



-Was ist los?
-Ich Denke es ist neu begonnen.

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Melancholy of October.

'I feel melancholy. D. said that night. His desire wavered between wanting to sink into deeper sleep, and so finally bury the myriad of thoughts that haunted him, and will have something to tell and tell. Well, the strangest desires are often favored by fate, I think! So start a discussion with his close friend F. who replied firmly alternating curiosity about the words of his friend: "Ah you? Well it is October. Will be guilty of autumn. "
D., taken from his increasingly paranoid Occasional said casually:" Um, could also be. "
And the friend, as if he understood the confusion, as if wanting to reassure retorted his usual firmness, this time mixed with a slight smile: "But, yeah, sure! It is also the lack of what we expect. "Q. You imagined the knowing smile of his and for a moment he stood there smiling alone staring at the screen of his laptop. D. told himself again, thinking more carefully the question: "But, as I wrote long ago, how can the autumn to be the bearer of gloom if in the end is the most colorful of all the seasons (I think). Even more than primavera.I autumn colors are hot..
F., always make calm, sober face to the soul down to D. replied: "Yes, but they are a prelude to winter. Spring heralds the summer with its bright colors. Autumn has within it the memories and remembers very hot, just that the chill of winter will follow shortly..
not yet completely alienated from his constant and, perhaps, useless to think D. said again: "Do you remember winter if you do you want to remember. But if you turn away the memory of the cold, because you're still sad? ". F. And very quickly, clarified the question to his friend:" Why is inevitable, my dear brother, you know there, you know that winter is right in front..
Taken from the discussion, and become more aware through the words of F., as if to feel a bit 'but with the ridiculous want to talk out their concerns, D. said: "My half-truth, taken from" The trivial philosophies of life of a twenty year old fool, "is that I'm starting to feel scared.." This time more intrigued F. said: Fear? And for what? ".
the other, with the answer already matured in his mind he said:" Fear of suffering for the sentiments. We know how stupid I can be and how much, alas, let me carry on the situation. (Indicating the absence of allusions).
F., read a moment, thought, and began to argue, this time to do a lot more comprehensive: "Fear is a common feeling. Even my. But what can we do? We know how it goes. It is not the first time that we fall in love, we've done it before. Many times we were disappointed. And a thousand other times it will be. But do you deny yourself the undeniable value of being in love, the act of loving, of having next to someone without necessarily thinking that perhaps one day there will be no more? ".
D. not fully understanding the words of his friend, in turn, said: "The problem is that I do not think very far ahead, but to the next. The problem is upstream. Will I ever find a match? ".
F. smiled and answered:" Oh D. You know better than me that is as futuristic idea of \u200b\u200bnot finding anyone! I could spend the fear of not "affezionartici" but certainly I do not know how to make you spend the fear of not finding anyone..
always dubious, always more ready to enter into violent conflict with his thoughts, is justified D. "It's futuristic. It is also probably the easiest way to take care of this piñata full of sensations of nature more diverse and varied.
[it's all part of my philosophy spiccola].
Fraternally F. replied: "You'll see that everything will be fine. All you need is "time, patience and courage..
D., now in part as if he had solved his problem he said: "I hope so, because after all we deserve..
" It is certain that we deserve. "F. said, and on notes to this seemingly sweet melody went to sleep.

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more timely than this one dies.


Christ, what luck! are now redundant, but the events are quite applicants, and also redundant. September is gone: all relatively quiet. October is envisaged that, although a highly melancholic. It is the usual outward calm. If experience, as they say, would make conscious, well the you would stop making the same stupid mistakes, or at least the situations just slip her without too many consequences. I would have to be prudent, as a good doctor whom I am going to be [hopefully]. But how could I predict this state of "apparent calm"? I think I'm not clever to the point of determining what may be detrimental or not.
Last night I read: "The fatigue comes first." He made his own for quite a while.
ardently desire that this new year to go here, unlike in the previous year. Unfortunately I think it was wrong for the umpteenth time.
Sometimes I even laugh, like those skits in which it states: "This marriage is not to do." Looking back relamente do not know what there is to laugh. It's all so cyclical
paradoxically! I think. And I Voglia di dormire. Vorrei piangere. Ma Riesco Fixer only punti nel vuoto della mia camera Immaginario.
Credo che oggi me ne da only star in compagnia della mia musica. E
come in quel film che proprio nella mia was ambientato stessa città: I giorni dell'abbandono stann arrival.



Grazie di tutto
!

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Me Quema a dia.


I burn. I burn in the fires of hell. I think this will be my destination. Slowly and anguish. It is not a punishment. It was far from my thinking about this! But special treatment for pretentious people like me. Pretentious, and why? Aficcion could say eager and consideration; willing love. [Seems]. Between pretension and desire no difference. It may be that the wrong way of saying? The reality is that I'm wrong by a margin of error is so high because it is not considered circustancial. They say that mistakes are Cresco, is learned. In fact I just say, no words we write. We all know that "verba volant scripta manent et.
So today I say I'll burn the fire of hell. Burn me in my solitude. I burn when I recorrendo tortuous path that will end. The day will come just tired and angry fire burning to live without killing me, still leaving me to suffer.

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It seems that since then the violins do not sound any more. Domenico has

"Solitudine, tourniquet to Farmi compagnia?" Quella notte with flebile Chiesi voice almost made sounds that seemed transparent jarring notes of a trombone in a concert of violins. She graciously answered me. Digrignai teeth, tears marked my face. He began to stroke. And my body became more and more relentlessly in his tiny arms wrapped around me with skill, just like a mother embracing her child. Lowered the tenbre, I could only see the outline of objects in dim light. She managed her back to me! And too many nights passed since then. Too many clouds sailed the same stretch of sky. Too many fallen leaves in the same avenue. I was wondering if I ever again reviewed the surface. I knew only that at that moment I was touching the bottom again ... It seems that since then the violins do not sound any more.

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Against Saturn. - Cursed Saturn.


Saturn Damn! You
rolling all my life. Joys, pain, hate, love, indifference, grief ... I could see that those who had opposed the birth of the sun experienced ordeals, almost impossible to overcome. They are silent obstacles and insurmountable barriers. I now know your impact on the age! Manifest or imperceptible? Certainly barbaric, criminal, maybe even a little 'bloody. And if
hands and suddenly decide not to scan most of the time? If the weather suddenly stopped? If we try for a moment, one and only one, the thrill of immobility? It will calm in the future Free your hostility? Kronos only if they ignore you, is the slightest chance of not succumbing Essert.
abhorrent crimes rages on minor uncertainties Mounds vilest macabre souls, then run your still bloody battles. Tomorrow will be
was all a nightmare or really the next victim of your merciless game?

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October.

Back to writing. After months of absence justified by the fact that the studies and the lack of internet has kept me quite far from here. But I return to write, perhaps more closely, perhaps much less than it did. I'm going to write no promises, because I like a good sailor, I can not keep their promises.

-
01/10/2010 02:38, in a conversation with my lovely. [If they are roses bloom.]

"Today the first day of October, 274simo day of the Gregorian calendar. I do not know why but in October makes me a little 'of melancholy perhaps because I find the most autumnal of every month! Although I must say that the colors of autumn beckon me. It is so picturesque! Perhaps even more than the spring. "

"October is sad. Too many occasions past and present come together in strange twists at times, pressing a little 'feel hurt. There I was thinking today, scroll through profiles of people more or less important."

"In sixteen days your birthday. I remember how Last year at this time we were holding my arrival in Parma. I love how the first day. No chin, much much much more. I miss you .. "

" October torture me. Cradle me in her sweet embrace. It makes me a victim of a pleasant drowsiness. Spoils me and makes me hurt. October, strange six months? "

" in October and you. "

" I miss you. "

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trailer ita loumyx

days pass and the ' Loumyx output is approaching, but still too slow for Luke and for me needless to say that we are no longer in the skin! Soon I will start writing the post in Italian and French monolingual this is the last message you read these pages and the best way to say goodbye to the old approach is undoubtedly to show you the trailer in the Italian version. Enjoy the show! Talk to you soon for new updates ;-)

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Info Return

You must wait a little longer 'to see it in paper, heart and soul, but not to stop update you on our first film. Luke and I have already started the construction of the second volume: the first 6 pages have already been approved and I have recently completed the 16. We still have no exact release date, although rumors whisper that Rand , Trey and Aura , the protagonists of our history, will debut in November. What I can tell you for now is to become part of the collection Neogenesis ( Clair de Lune ) , which will count 46 pages (plus 5 of sketches), and that will be ... Loumyx ! Waiting for the first volume, entitled "The New World ", I refer you to our blog: " Sapo and its 2.0 " and " Juice Ink and , if you can not have been more in the skin, you can order the book HERE .

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"Dream of a Midsummer Night.


My breathing became increasingly labored. It was for fear of waking up! Watch you sleeping . God I would have done for the rest of my life! Draw your profile with the imagination. Follow those perfect lines. Getting lost between them. my dream. smell of your skin in contact with mine. That smell is all yours, and yours alone. This pleasant fragrance that I walked the nostrils and the slave without mercy. I can still hear it! Sometimes as a child leaped in your dream. And my eyes, steady, paid attention to your lips, now opened to leave your warm breath.
I would have died of joy, you know? I laughed and cried, jumped, screamed, howled at the moon.
I've got a bunch of emotions. You have come to his senses my heart sore. You've finally made your own. Now you hold in your hand. Look out! It is fragile. Made of the finest porcelain, including a shot of air could lederlo. A handful may even deform it, break it into pieces. I would return to
last night. Hold you tight, kiss you, touch you. Show you what I feel. Make you aware of what they give me. Watching you sleep again, and another, and again and again and again.

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SOS: Subject lost.


astonished gaze. Filled with distance. Resonates in the ears only the sound of lost hopes. The nose feels just the smell of another dismal failure. The language sadly tasted the bitter taste of the error. The skin burns due to a new defeat. The footsteps are heavy, endless journeys. And pressed a strong sense of anguish. Press me and rips the breasts. The air is so thin (or seems so), to prevent breathing.
miss you, miss I, lacking oxygen. Words fail. Laconic farewell message to the nasty heart.
Same city. Same sky over our heads. Own the roads ahead. Our roads are intertwined, our lives, no!
strong And the fear is again not to forget, as strong as the fear of being forgotten. Please, somebody save me! We're flesh and feelings.
I'm choking, you let me die like this.

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The Unbearable Lightness of Being.


wanted to do something that leaves no chance of return. He wanted to brutally destroy all the past of his last seven years. It was the vertigo. The numbing, overwhelming desire falling. You can also call vertigo the intoxication of weakness. You realize his own weakness and instead of resisting it, you want to abandon it. One of his drunk weakness, we want to be even weaker, you want to fall into the street in front of everyone, we want to be down, even lower.
tried to convince himself that would not have remained in Prague and would no longer made the photographer. Would return in the small town where he had once called the voice of Tomas.
But once in Prague, also had to stay a bit 'to attend to many practical things. He began to postpone the departure. So
spent five days and, Suddenly, the apartment appeared Tomáš. Karenin rushed to lick her face, saving them for a long time the need to say something.
were face to face in the midst of a plain covered with snow and shivered with cold.
Po came as lovers who have never even kissed.
He asked: "Is everything okay?".
"Yes," she said.
"You were at the newspaper?".
"I called."
"So what?".
"No waiting."
"What?".
She was silent. He could not tell him he was waiting for him.

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A man, a person like many others. One who wakes up in the morning, drinking coffee, brushing teeth, greets his wife with a kiss and crosses the threshold of the house to go to work. Does the employee and is diligent, his work plays with precision. It is a middle-aged man with no crickets in my head goes to the sea holiday with his family, playing on the beach with her two children 10 and 7 years. After his day back home, ribacia his wife on the front door, hugs his kids and asked how they spent their day. Later will take a look at their tasks. Cleverly sits on the very same black leather lounge chair in front of the fireplace. It is January and it's cold in the city. Reading the newspaper, the eye falls casually on the page of crime. There is talk of suicide. It seems too far from his thoughts. Dinner is ready. He sits at the table after you have washed your hands. He thanked his wife for dinner. Back to his chair, reading the last pages and the eye falls on the obituary page. With a nod to turn the page. Kiss the children and goes to bed, there on the table waiting for her book started a few weeks. See now, 22:41. Still does not know the meaning of those numbers. Night man!

A woman. A lady in one piece, the mother of two children. One of those women who wakes up in the morning, prepares breakfast for her children and her husband, Rehabilitation Order bedroom of his children by the hand, say goodbye to her husband and goes to school. Has the look of a proud mother. Given the recent recommendations to their children, watching them from inside his car go hand in hand towards the entrance of the school. Go to the market, does the shopping. Back at home, cleans it from top to bottom. Look, like all women her age, the soap operas of the early afternoon commenting on the alleged actions "facts" in the screen suggests the front of his salad and glass of mineral water half full. Later, as always, ready and punctual as a Swiss watch before he goes to school, finds her children and watching them with eyes full of joy and pride, as if not seeing them years, as if he were returning from some kind of business. Talking a bit 'with a little one' with each other. Back home, stretch and in the meantime, watch TV or listen to radio. Does not sing. He wants to maintain a certain linearity in front of children. Think about dinner. He greets her husband, gives him his slippers and locks herself in the place where he spent more time per day, the kitchen. Is pleased with herself when dinner is welcome. Last his affairs before going to sleep, watch TV and a hint of whether he goes to bed after putting her children to bed. Night to you woman!

Two parallel existences. Two lives seemingly without problems. God only knows how much this monotony can damage physical and mental health of these two individuals. No attention. Cold contacts. Mechanical actions. Lack of desire. Everything is well planned and almost meaningless. What kind of life is this? Not a smile, not a caress, it was a tear of joy. Only and always the same consistency in doing everything. It is a small lapse in concentration, a slight change in this empty repetition can trigger reactions senseless and totally irreversible.

Solita morning a few months. She did not sleep all night, he was late to work this morning. She is strange to read too much. He races against time and against the wrath of his boss, as well as against his distinguished record of timely and accurate worker. You strange, pale, and with a blank look (as well as his days) takes the children to school. He is slow to work. Arrive half an hour later, never happened during his entire career, except when the biggest of her children had a severe attack of appendicitis. That day, the gap seems to be something for no reason, and unjustifiable. She sleeps all day until the afternoon, even the mundane daily appointment with the American soap was unable to move. It should be to find the children with the same blank stare and sleepy; not stretch more but not turn on the radio. He does not come home that night. He went in the first little bar around the corner and think and rethink what has become of his life. She does not care about this strange delay, indeed, it seems almost relieved that her husband will retain more than expected outside the home, even late at night she thinks and thinks about what his life and cry, cry so much, sobbing like never before. That's a typical evening, said the balance can become monotonous in the deepest traps without ever getting out. She falls asleep on the couch that night with red eyes and tears. He looks forward. Le 22:41; almost as if there is a chance that tremendous and fills another glass. Drunken sleep in the car that night.

The monotony breaks the pseudo equilibrium. You into a vicious cycle of mechanical factors that are unlikely almost to make you smile. Everything becomes so extremely shallow that it is impossible to get out without at least one broken bone. Breaking that will be impossible to heal.

She wakes up with a tremendous presemtimento but decides not to indulge in that rainy morning a month to one year in a season. It is determined in what he does. He takes his stuff, he takes his children, destroys that reminds her of time spent with the man in that house that seems narrow and that life lived in these illogical. A last look at the photos depicting the happy family, all of a sudden a bang and the picture falls to the ground is falling apart and are reduced to tiny bits sharp just as he had already reduced the life of the woman. Since then only sounds: the keys to turning angrily in a bolt, the engine of a car crazy, the silence left by the void of the house of a life gone.

He wakes up in a suburban motel that day, probably around six o'clock in the afternoon. His life has lost regularly. Beard a few weeks, maybe a month. He shakes, he is afraid to anger them. Perhaps agitation. Cena.Poi usual at the usual time it takes a handful of tobacco, turns the 'last' cigarette. Then you put in front of the opaque mirror of that stupid little hotel in the suburbs. You watch. You wan, pale, you could see the anguish in his eyes. Test disgust and worth watching. Suddenly think the only thing that could save him from further recede in that moment, looks like a flash, a kind of epiphany last drag on his cigarette, throws it on the carpet filthy dell'ostelletto from peanuts. He grabs his coat, car keys and the car in gear. Directed towards that direction with his eyes full of hope. For a moment the light comes back alive in his eyes. Arrived. Turn the key in the lock of the door. He has only to look for a moment that the terrible scenario unfolding before to withdraw from all his hope. It was then that he made his life a huge pleonasm. Was still devoid of imagination and fantasy. All the bloody wounds day of the bloody years of that horrible season at 22:41, caused the death. And her life now as its existence was shattered like the picture of a happy family and monotonous city a few hours earlier had marked its end. Two days later on the same page of that newspaper that read months ago sitting in his comfortable armchair in black leather is about him.

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Keinmal Einmal ist. Unfinished Sympathy


In those hot days of July was consumed yet another crime of the soul. His return was at first moment of absolute joy. That message, that evening, made her cheeks and red eyes. The hole in the heart that had healed in a very very short, which for brevity we consider even immeasurable. We know that for him to return to equilibrium means falling back towards the abyss. It is found, then, to write in his "Notebooks of complaints" of joy mixed with pain; of illusions and false hopes. It's the typical prologue, now appellant, of its end. If you could count the times when his heart has yielded to the wrong signals, perhaps by using sand, so many that they would be able to fill an hour-glass with which one could measure the time of relapse. In those days came back pale. Always felt very close to the pit of my stomach and a boulder on his chest. Now her tears are neither bitter nor sweets are terse, heavy and deadly. Was not hungry, if not its news and a bit of love that would never be received. It was there, with his eyes staring into space. Aware of the situation and impassive in front of it. Now expected. He waited for his body to rid himself of his soul again and then request it back as soon as the dim light of a vain hope of returning to light what he had left. It would not be possible to conclude a pact with the devil give him his soul in exchange for his heart, deprived of what is most pure and precious possessions. After all what could he do to a soul so poor, reduced pain, with coarse stitching to heal the gashes caused by past suffering. This was the price you pay for what they did not want to hear. Love does not die, he recited a song. Of course you do not actually die, you die with the body. The souls instead. They are the ones I met in the most remote and hidden world of interwoven strands of the fate of individuals destined to love each other for a good time to trapped forever in the realm of despair. And so, for injuries caused by the bloody fall over and kick the teeth, the souls are dying of love. And die alone. Then rise, and some stronger than ever forged. But this is not his case. Too many are falling. Is extremely mutilated his soul to raise strong and combative. His soul rises, but rises alone and fragile. And he is there, ready to go to deceive and deliver the last glorious shot. That shot that, in those hot days of July and for the time to follow, inevitably insaguina his lifeless essence. That kiss ..


Keinmal Einmal ist.

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I know That I've imagined love before And how

It Could Be With You

Really hurt me baby, really cut me baby How can
Have a day without a night You're the book that i
Have Opened
And now I've got to know much more

The curiousness
of your potential kiss Has got my mind and body aching Really hurt me baby
,
really cut me baby How can you have a day without a night
You're the book I Have Opened That
And now I've got to know much more Like a soul without


in mind In a body without a heart I'm missing
Every part.

(Unfinished Sympathy, Massive Attack, Collected-2006)

'm starting this page with a song from my favorite band, which was an inspiration. The title is not totally random. It is said that every song should represent the mood of a person, well, what best describes my feelings "status at the time but a compassion incomplete?!? This is your compassion, compassion for myself and my strange world of illusions, distorted and twisted, and yet sentimental pathos gradually lead me to more and more estranged, and I make it a hybrid being, it looks almost human, but no vital organs, and what should dstinguere a man from a beast: a soul for no reason, a body without a heart . Why incomplete because it is a pity mixed with hatred, hatred of this microcosm pernicious. I pity you and I realize how useless it is to do nothing to change, and then I hate myself because I am aware, but you know "Stultitia east fecunda mater, and even though my mother is not named Folly, well to put a world that will never learn to react because its becoming too absorbed from food cycle of compassion and self-hatred, which in then reality would amount to an excessive idea of \u200b\u200bperson. Thus the circular motion becomes a harmonic motion, which then has very little harmonic, but I can swing like a pendulum between victimization and self-absorption, until it reaches a point, a climax, in which the two terms are actually synonymous. It is then that I can not blame, and justify this "unfinished sympathy" pure hedonism.