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This is the end, beautiful friend

It's time to pull the strings. Missing 99 days at the end of my European Voluntary Service in Belgium and are more confused than when I left.
It was like a detox treatment based on cigarettes and coffee.
When people ask me what life is answer with a metaphor: it is a walk in which people take you and accompany you for a while and then let go with new experiences. This year has been the journey of Santiago de Compostela where the hazard, the case was king.
Each meeting was random: I could be there, how could I not be there, but as I was, there was ... and has carved a part of me changed forever, shocked, angry or just making me showing angle of scene never considered before.
There is no turning back. Human experiences are not to do and redo the experiments, we have a chance, and we have to play better.
is why I suffer to see people of my age, or simply people who, were it not for this stupid political and bureaucratic system could be my neighbors with whom to go to drink a spritz, could be my classmates, or simply might be people master their lives, are forced to do anything: this is forcing people to wear.
Offices of social workers of the center are covered with posters praising the courage of asylum seekers: yes, it takes a lot of courage to be treated as a domestic animal which feeds and to which it provides a litter and a cushion to wait for a very uncertain outcome on which depends the rest of his life (life, not a part of it, but it in its entirety).
Waiting. The waiting is the action that there is more treacherous: you can not do otherwise. And I laugh when I think that I get nervous if I wait for a friend late appointment when there are people waiting for a piece of orange paper to live their lives, piece issued by people who judge you after an interview after which he returns home to his little family in the beautiful villa in the middle-class neighborhood to plan their holidays abroad and the asylum seeker if he returns to the limbo of maybe. What
disgust that. In
Betrothed Fra Cristoforo, commenting on the injustices of Don Rodrigo, said the day will come ... but will it truly the day when things will change? I'm skeptical.

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Mr. parcel to be delivered

not you have no other gods before me,

often made me think:

diverse people who came from the east

they said that was basically the same.

believe in a different pattern you

and I was not hurt.

believe in a different pattern you

and I was not hurt.

blog Cecilia sleeping ... not (in all senses). Apart
odious and costly technical mistakes that have caused my beloved Acer was out of commission for two weeks (and my piggy piggy significantly light), I could not update the blog as often in the middle and almost always on the road (Luxembourg Amsterdam ... London ... ... and soon Portugal, but this is already another chapter ...).
At its heart is the scent of spring and of changes: families who leave and family that come, memories that overlap with new experiences. And I'm finding that spring really exist even in the rainy Belgium: The days are getting longer and the skin begins to smell of honey, as in Italy.
The month of February was devoted to the organization of Battle (hip-hop/break a challenge dance in which two teams clash dancing and a jury decide the winner until I just have one): the center has formed a group of dancers who performed in a show of dance and a group of kids helped assemble and disassemble the bleachers and the various stages of the event ... well, a serious matter! Although there was little
Tze: I attached the flyers to the walls (in those days I realized that perhaps I had better iscirvermi for scouts when I was little because I have seen with great disappointment that my common sense tends to zero with ... peaks towards giganumeri with a minus in front of a tent ... fold and insert it in a special bag was more difficult than expected ... Ugh). But morally I was very present ... especially in terms of admiration master's break up, rasta, beautiful ... uh ... very good, I mean, guys in the center ... professional admiration, of course ...
Last week it was released only a place for men and a center of a city adjacent left a man after the stewards of the center have accompanied him by car to Rixensart (note: 45 minutes) to the question: what is it? They did not know rispondore. This means spending almost an hour in 3 m2 with another person without even having exchanged a single word. Now, if I stand for more than 5 minutes alone in my room (which is more or less 3 m2) I begin to talk with my succulents or go insane! Men like numbers ... men like packages to be delivered ...
In Angola it is said that those who have white hair is wise ... I'm getting very wise. My hair is salt and pepper shakes Roma women's center, which also dye their hair to girls aged 1 year have told me that if I continue to let me go so I'll never find a husband, especially at my age (22! ?!?). The center of African men, however, are not upset by the white threads in my hair, but from the fact that I have not a husband and, consequently, children. I am also quite perplexed about the fact that I go running to keep myself in shape: the woman must be round, otherwise there is a woman. They ensure that they know how to increase self-esteem!
Now I have to conclude, somewhat 'in themes like in school when nonresta that a quarter of an hour to deliver ... but in this case a quarter of an hour is the level of autonomy of the human my batteries.
Ah, the quote is DeAndre ... and what is right!

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la neige!!



September 4 return to Brussels ... and it seemed never to be playing!
Monday I rushed to the center ... a little 'because of withdrawal symptoms in children and a little' bit because ipercuriosa to see the group of Americans (hereafter the americans. .. We have not yet identitificati as separate entities, we are one big ectoplasm that moves and speaks with one voice simultaneously).
after 5 minutes we had not yet learned the names of each other but we had already organized an educational trip (destruction) in Amsterdam (which after I damned to find tickets and hostel will not attend because feverish and delirious).
but not over the surprises of my first Monday in Belgian land I felt the character of nightmare before christmas ... OVUNQUEEE SNOW! bright as snow, powdery flour, icy snow and intrusive ...
course snow + children = battle of snowballs ... which, of course, ... I could not participate in the commencement of the dances! I've never seen so many smiles in one backyard ... smiles of children, mothers, babies, social workers, of young men, educators, people who were sad but then it became a bit 'happy, however, before people were happy ... we laughed and we all felt a bit 'more united, a little' more in a family in this enormous house too outside the box.
last but not least ... Monday I met my new roommate! is French, and it will be nice to amsterdam with me (when you heal ...).
2009 has started well, better than my expectations, very best of circumstances ... until the day before yesterday when the fever has beset my mangled body from the cold (-15 ° C!!) and snow ... and a little 'spat upon by bacteria in babies from my plate when we speak on during meals (this is just universal happening even when I worked at cres doffing, my mom says the same thing happens in elementary school ... I'm learning to live with almost ... almost sad when my flatmates are not speaking with his mouth full and still sitting on their chairs during lunch ...).
are now in the position of the caterpillar in the bug (ie cecilia wrapped in multiple layers of blankets) sipping aspirin, spraying spray menthol throat and inhaling chemicals anti catarrh, circonadata by an army of used tissues and wrinkled ... luckily I have a caring roommate (and now unemployed) who takes care of me going to buy kebab help my body but, above all, my soul ...
e. .. news .... news scoop of the scoop ... HEATING (TO MY SIDE OF THE ROOM) ... IT WORKS! I had some moments in the last three days when I was even warm, funny feeling that I had forgotten that by now ...
ah ... Monday and Monsieur le batiment, alias Monsieur properties, alias!%&/§ decided that evicted us all ... but fortunately in Belgium, I've always claimed to be an extremely civilized country .. . ... and cold until March, you can not evict people because winter ... merci! ull'ultima information
small note: When he said were the h22 (manifested knocking at our door with "soft touch and lovely") and this kind of Don Rodrigo de noaltri was visibly (and smell) of alcohol .. . imenticato has everything the next day ... thankfully! All's well that ends well ...

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a bit 'a bit serious ...' the usual tze!

go home and feel foreign, what a paradox!
are not the 1000 km that separate me from Italy but I have changed the lives of the people I listened, watched, drank, ate, looked and smelled.
during Christmas dinner my ears did not hear the talk around the table but echoed mollifying of Djambi Guinea, the Albanian words and accents East.
my experiment is that a short step before tackling other companies, one of many moments that we are forced to undergo to be able to evolve, yet have never been so confused as now.
I feel very alone in a crowd but now I miss the solitude difficult to win in recent months, after half a year ago to organize parties and events and having to turn off the phone to sleep.
I learned to live alone, to be wrong alone, crying alone, eating alone, sleeping alone.
but I miss the warm and cozy nest of my parents. I do not think it will ever be to be children.

after intimate reflections: cecilia show!
premise sucette = lollipop; Chaussette = sock.
other premise: I did not know what a sucette before this day.
December 6 (St. Nicholas Day, holiday very much felt in Northern Europe, also received small Tze sweet when she was little and lived in Austria); dialogue between child six years of Armenian resident of the center and Cecilia:
child: Madame Cecilia, I have a sucette?
Cecilia (surprised): You ask your mom chaussettes! it is you who is dealing with it!
child: but St. Nicholas has led to all children a sucette! can I have it too?
Cecilia (inclusive): no, what did their mothers have procured!
child (and think a bit 'angry): No, Madame Cecilia, and St. Nicholas!
Cecilia (very satisfied and early dell'incazzatura): no, is the mother who is dealing with, you have to ask you, St. Nicholas brings sweet, not chaussettes!
child walks away dejected.
Cecilia comes home and her roommate gives her a lollipop in the shape of Tweety ... SUCETTE calling!
... ops ...