Stream Southpark Scandinavia

Hello

I wake up with the smell of coffee. To remain clinging to past memories of the dream I curl up under the sheets and I turn away. Nothing
, the images disappear like fog up under the sun.
Not bad, though. Soon will come, as every morning with my breakfast on a metal tray, with printed on the Eiffel Tower, Arc de Triomphe and the Louvre Pyramid.
For six months I have this sweet hello, the fact of his smile, a cup of coffee, yogurt and freshly baked croissants, crispy, stuffed with neither too cold nor too hot. I love it.
Sometimes I like to watch it with closed eyes, pretending to sleep again. He is thoughtful, enters on tiptoe, looking at me, and equip the table in silence. His gestures are simple and clear: spread a small cloth, and supports the tray, gently so as not to wake up. Then he goes, quietly, as he arrived.
Today, however, I find myself already up, meet him, keep those games looks and smiles. Every occasion is an excuse to touch it and caress it. I want to breathe the scent of aftershave, mixed with the smell of the first cigarette that wears; approach on tiptoe and kissed him on the neck, pass the hands on hips and chest.
fault of the dream. I left on the skin of his desire.
was night, the door was open and a moment later the sheet was removed at the bottom of the foot. I, lying on his stomach, I was awakened to hear the mattress sink under its weight. I raised my head and we had looked at. He smiled with his index finger resting on the lips. We were so, finding pleasure in waiting. Then I had toyed with, had left the calf, and had risen following the leg muscles. Rather than continuing on my butt, took the long way, from the side. I had rice for tickling, but I did not move. I like to feel his hands on me as I stroked her back, shoulders, neck. Then he replaced his hands with his lips. With little kisses had left, redoing all the way round. When he arrived below the buttocks, I felt a shudder and close the sheet with her hands, closing his eyes. I can not resist. I wanted his kisses, feel above me, heavy and light at the same time. I wanted to undress and be stripped, feel the touch of my skin on her, lost in his grief and my shortness of breath.
Instead, I smelled the coffee and I woke up.
Now I'm standing at the door. I have his shirt on him that gave me as pajamas. That sounds great, and I rolled the bottom like a miniskirt. He likes to look at her legs.
And to think that he knows only the name and profession. François. Together with his accomplices kidnapped me one night, sneak in the house where I live with my parents. Since then locked myself in this room, but I'm not complaining. At first I was scared, but over time I realized that it does not require much in the morning to get me a good morning. It's my small daily pleasure, now I can not do without. I see him for a few minutes and try many times to prolong these moments, I talk to him, tell him about me, I try to know him. François is kind and in the few minutes it makes me feel safe and secure. I'm not missing anything. Brings me his books and his CDs to listen to, so I can know him a little 'more.
I know they have demanded a ransom, but I hope that is not paid. If being released means you no longer see, I prefer to stay here forever.
I do not care what others think. My dad says I'm crazy, my mother will replace the words with tears, someone called the Stockholm Syndrome.
I like to think that is love.

Holcom Shower Door Parts

The woods of autumn Towards the sky

My wife loved the woods in autumn. She loved the smells, the colors, even the noise of footsteps muffled by the leaves.
Every year in mid-October, opened the cupboard and retrieved from the bottom of the clothes: long pants, flannel shirt, fleece. And then the K-way and green socks. He put the boots on the upper fat to soften and waterproof leather. It was a ritual, his, his same movements, the same superstitious gestures.
not had time. He went out at dawn with fog lights filtering through the first and veiled everything around, you forward, with his walking stick, under the warm sun after lunch while I was writing or resting, remained motionless, without breath, with the camera neck waiting for the sunset light hitting the leaves, and the shades of yellow, orange, brown, red.
He sat on a rock covered with moss and listened to the animals and plants. She was convinced that even the trees were a breath and talk to her. The stories told, he said.
was carrying a wicker basket and brought him back home heavy mushrooms: chanterelles nails, drum sticks. The porcini cleaned them with a knife, cut them into slices and let them dry in a wooden box. Or put them in jars in olive oil, whole.
It also includes chestnuts, those big, shiny, and experimenting in the kitchen every time a different recipe: chestnut soup and risotto, meatballs and souffle with chestnuts, pudding and cream of chestnuts.
Yes, my wife loved the woods in autumn. More
me.
That's why I buried in the meadow, after the fallen pine, behind the boulder-shaped chair.
I saw her return, she opened the door and I hit in the face with a spade. He said oh just a surprise as he fell to the ground. I cleaned blood and waited for the dark, with a smile on his face and a cigarette after cigarette between her lips every now and then touched her with his shoe. Not pretending. She was dead for real.
It was funny to take the road through the woods and turn left after a few meters towards the path she did every day that God sends into the ground. I wanted to laugh, the forest has been his life and will also be his tomb. You will feel comfortable in the peace we seek in the trees, storing food for the winter of his animals.
Now at home, where I expect a beer and the work more tedious.
rid of chestnuts and mushrooms kept in the pantry.
I always told him that I do not like.

Bonefish Printable Grill Coupons

Everest, 1924

The north wall is exposed to the wind and the two climbers had to slow down the scale, and are falling behind on schedule, with the dark and cold threaten the descent. But the summit there is a sigh, three hundred meters of steep slope, his legs rebels to the commands of the brain. Every step a torture, an endless effort to tense muscles. It was not easy to get this far. The enthusiasm of the morning, with the passing of hours, had turned to despair, fatigue, desire to quit.
Irvine looked up toward the summit obscured by clouds. He wished he had never done. She felt short of breath and attacked the fear of not succeeding. Thought for a moment to sit protected from the weather and if the friend wanted to go, he would have done without him. He stopped, unbalanced by a gust of wind.
"I have more strength," he confessed.
Mallory, who followed him, gave him courage.
"We can not stop" and pointed to the sky up to their eyes. "Soon there will be a blizzard, we must continue."
"No we'll never ... I'll stay here."
Mallory grabbed his coat and shook him.
"The mountains are not impossible to climb. It is the will of man that makes them "and then showed him the rope with which they were bound together. "You see this? Do not leave you alone. If you do not want to kill us both, hold on. "
In that moment I felt the first flakes of snow drift, the temperature dropped and the two disappeared, swallowed up by the storm.


Everest, 1999

With the glare of the sun, seemed to blur a big rock-and-white glossy, half-hidden among rocks and stones from the crumbling North ridge.
Simonson stopped the shipping company, walked away from the beaten track and cautiously approached what is, in fact, was a corpse. The
had found.
lay face down. The cold had preserved almost all, only part of the jacket and sweater were gone, consumed by time. For 75 years, the mountain had kept the remains of Mallory in the snow, but now, little by little, her body returned.
In the tent, toasting the success of the expedition.
"May I have this honor?" Said Simonson. With the gloves, taking care, Mallory opened the backpack and the bag with the other effects recovered.
From that time dreamed of a life, since he had read in a book, the story of two climbers, their purpose, and mystery that surrounded their business. No one knew if they could really reach the summit. The first men to do so. And he would find out.
He put the mask worn on the table, the respirator, the clock marking the same now from that day in 1924, the rope tied at the waist and pulled from one end, glacier glasses found in the pocket of the jacket.
"Where's my camera?" He asked.
hoped that the film, remained trapped in the snow and low temperatures, could still be in good condition.
"Irvine is missing, though. You may resent had him. "
"We'll find him," said Simonson believes.
better control objects. He had read books and studied the documentary. He knew by heart what the two had brought with them, and what were the gifts that they wanted to leave the mountain, once you are on, one step from heaven.
And the object of Mallory, there on the table was not there.


Everest 1924 Mallory and Irvine

embraced, touched and silent. At an altitude of 8,840 meters, just a step from heaven, there were no words. Only a peace and serenity unreal. His eyes were full of disbelief that view that man had ever seen. Peaks, valleys, snow-capped peaks, the infinite horizon all around. And suddenly, the fatigue of the day was gone, there in the top of the world, into the sky. The two climbers forgot for a moment the distress, fear, the snowstorm that he had swallowed a few meters from the finish. Because after a certain altitude there are no bad thoughts.
Mallory opened the jacket and the inner pocket, pulled out a photograph of his wife, kissed it and placed it on the frozen ground, protected by a pile of stones. Irvine took the camera and snapped some photos at the top, just to the north wall and defeat to his friend, collected in a solitary prayer. Then he looked at his watch. It was late, if they wanted to avoid the darkness would have to start over again. He felt a deep sorrow in leaving the place spotless, after struggling so long to get there, but they had to go. The descent was even more difficult, with the avalanche danger hidden behind each step.
is tied on the rope again. With a nod took the way back.
never arrived at the base camp.



I like to think so ...