the birth of children
The explanation for my mother on the birth of children was as follows: "Graine here une petite passe de l'homme à la femme, quand ils s'aiment .
I could not understand how the transition could take place in that suit. I imagined the father and mother asleep, I sensed that the location of the event were residing in the belly, I stood for the inconsistency of material that grain to make his short trip with the speed of the breeze, a motion before ascending then descending along a rainbow.
I've never seen the speaker of the seeds of my father. He always kept hidden. One day I slipped into bed with parents, each other, lifting the sheets. My father had a sudden movement of cover. Understand what is covered, I did not understand why. Another Sunday that they were in bed, thinking to please, I prepared their coffee. I knocked, perhaps, to the door of their room, opened it, and bent to pick up the tray placed on the floor I took a sharp reversal they need to recompose before me. Their faces were stunned. I understood what they were doing, I did not understand their reaction of embarrassment. I was just reprimanded.
One night, however, I was awakened by my sister from our mother, who ran naked through the whole house screaming like crazy. "Au secours , votre père veut me tuer . It was not true, though he the inseguisse to bring it to reason.
... quand ils s'aiment .
of children I have had four, only two are still alive. I got them from three different women. I never married. Just one of my four children, the youngest, was born because I loved his mother.
Life and Death
I accompanied DSA examination of Medieval History. From the corridor I could see the upright with a strange fixed smile on his face.
"I speak of Charles V"
"A son of a bitch"
"I agree"
Then the scene dumb. DSA was petrified at that smile.
There we left the Campus, Verano direct to the coolness of the monumental tombs of the Pincio. DSA hastily possessed three nineteenth-century gravestones, alongside that of an unknown British. The fact, per se, does not deserve to be remembered if not for the feeling that there was conceived my first child. He could never be born who, among the remains of the dead, began its life? I keep him a clinical report of the Knights of Malta and a photo of the mother who climbs the autumn among the beech trees of the forest.
of how one can give death
"In life I have stolen and lied, mocked the father and mother, desecrated my purity, sacrilege committed in places of worship, I destroyed what other building, I even supported the fellowship between God and Satan "... this, I considered walking down the street one day of strong wind. I thought "... but, I did not kill anyone." anyone present at my reflection and I put to the test.
did not sleep that night. Next to me and the beloved in her womb the child of love. I listened to slam the shutters on the walls, get the wind storm. A different sound, a hesitation, I get up. I head toward the kitchen. A man in the act of entering the window. To my surprise, my fear is equal to his. He may not see the naked man's advance against the darkness. He hears the cry terrifying and terrified. The intruder retreats outside, hanging on the ledge with your fingers. Under his ten-meter vacuum. The storm of blows on his hands and continued to scream, then when he realizes that I will not fall, riagguanta the pipes along which went up fast and spins away. Not before me spit in his face. Thief, Liar, outcast son, profane, heretic ... what ever I had done wrong?
often think back to that day when I could cause death, if only I had grasped that acceptance of ogre stuck above the door frame. But someone did not want to weigh down my burden.
