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A BOOK RECOMMENDED

Isabel Allende's heroines bear all the same dominant trait: passion. The passions are to carve their destiny. And Zarité Sedella called Tété, latest incarnation of the woman as he wants Isabel, is no exception. 1770, Santo Domingo, now Haiti. Tété was nine years old when the young French Toulouse Valmorain bought it because it takes care of household chores. All around the sugar cane fields, the heat exhausting the island, the slave labor. Tété soon learns how did that world: the violence of the bosses, the anxiety of freedom, constraints precious solidarity. When Valmorain moves in the plantations of Louisiana, Tété also must follow him, but now began the battle for dignity, for the future, for the emancipation of slaves. It is a battle that mixes with the slow awakening of love and passion, all'annodarsi relations and alliances, the move several of the most feverish - soldiers and slaves warriors, voodoo priests and Catholic monks, matrons and cocottes, pirates and fallen nobles, doctors and lazy dudes. Against the backdrop of lively history, Zarité Sedella, nicknamed Tété, stands beautiful and courageous, pugnacious, and aware, very modern heroine who arrives from far away to remind us of the belief in freedom and dignity of the passions.

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Palermo

now I feel it, degradation is mine, my dirty skin, my hair muddy. Remember the days of slavery? I never step taken. I'm not broken shoes protect the feet. The fingers, the fingers are slaughtered by frostbite, and dirt does not help. I built a house, comp. You were saying: You'll never have a house of your, we will never succeed, do not earn enough, there is no work. Instead I have it. And I did it with my hands. I call it the igloo. Has the structure of an igloo, but no ice, no ice comp. The smell? You can get used to it. You have to be part of everything at the beginning looking for answers, ask questions, your body defends itself, it reacts. Then you feel bad. An infinite pain in his stomach, not in the lungs. A kind of global chronic vomiting repressed. But the man is the most adaptable animal that exists, people living in the center of the igloo, it is adapted, they have nothing but snow, we here at Palermo we have? Rubbish. We must adapt ourselves, comp. In the rubbish we have to live and do it in our igloo of garbage. My nails do not come now to the scalp, the layer of fat insulates me cute, I do not need the cap, I do not need to delete it. I want to live in purity, comp. Eliminates the unnecessary layers, I have eliminated many until now. Remember the days of love? Even one unnecessary, comp. It should be deleted, to be one with Palermo, with the garbage. I want to be the scrotum of Palermo, the more I miss your kisses, I miss your blows.

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Many say that the best minds to grow in pain, in distress. Well it may seem strange but after months of absence I began to write after a terrible sitting at the dentist.
My first time, my first anesthesia, to which were added two of her friends.
And then I felt the other way, I thought of things to do, I looked at the ceiling ... Complete them stonatae relaxed (mentally because physically I was the thesis of the neck muscles more than ever, the saliva which exceeded due to a poor apprentice dentist a little distracted, the hairy stuff in his mouth, several tubes in his mouth, and stuff that I opened my mouth like the Silence of the Lambs (the dentist said it is strong stuff, I think fate was also a photo !!!)).
Eventually I left the dentist that I felt Bossi with half a paralysis of the face and hungry as a wolf can not meet in order not to end up "an old man with stroke" (words of my dentist). Next
settin next appointment.
and maybe the next post? Unless other painful moments!