Median Bmi Of Females

verweile doch, du bist so schön!

Cunningham writes that people have the illusion of life experiences exceptional, unusual and very exciting compared to other lives human. I have this illusion. Today I had a perfect day, many people would envy. It was a rare day, an exceptional day.
The Chechen boy, with whom I shed tears of joy, anger and pain came back to say goodbye. We said a lot, without an interpreter and without words. We laughed and we promised not to forget. from now on will be engraved in my memory forever. A gentleman
Kosovo and I have cared for a small Chechen just one year. The love for this child has brought us together more than one culture, language and a common citizenship. Watching him play has a sense of normalcy to a picture out of the ordinary. A small
of Guinea fell asleep in my arms. When he sees me in the corridors opens its arms to me, recognize me, trust me. When his mother comes to pick him up, cries and clings to my legs. I am proud but at the same time it breaks my heart to see him terrified of losing me.
-5 days and I go to the center. I can not imagine a farewell, I can not shape the words that I utter. It is not humanly bearable create reports and then leave.
I plunged into this adventure without a clear idea of \u200b\u200bwhat I lived and I got involved for the bones from the lives of people who met him. I do not see the refugees, I see Ahmed, Zahra, Said ... I see the eyes watching, listening to the mouths that talk about and sniffed the smell of the person in front of me.
Whenever a school cycle ended I was sad to leave the people to whom I loved but I knew that they would take their way. Here I leave for mothers, children and men who risk a forcible return to a country that is no longer theirs, and let people migrate still migrate legacy of dashed hopes and dreams too shy to be made. I leave many question marks pasted on the vine.
are psychologically destabilized, I sucked a few drops of each trauma, I gave up any illusions about justice triumphant good. They are stories that do not believe and I do not want to tell people who ask me about this experience and that certainly will not tell my children one day (more disillusioned that disappointed!). Every little achievement has cost deep pain, conquest irrelevant to the price paid.

Invitation Wording For Baseball

Brussels, mon amour

footing during a trivial at Parc Royal, watching the darkening pink sky behind the palais des beaux arts, I had an epiphany: I'm in love with Brussels.

petty philosophy says that we realize the value of things once you are lost. I have not lost yet this city and yet I already feel the nostalgia and no, listen and André De apsetterò tomorrow for nostalgia.

What I love about this city? I love it so much the contradictions that make me angry or I love the people that have crossed my path?

I could not answer, and I love her enough. And a little 'love this, no? To love without knowing why and suffer.

After a week's holiday in France I returned to my work with the fear of not finding someone. Someone's gone, someone has arrived. I still do not get used to the routine of the center made of welcome and goodbye. I still shed tears for every good-bye to me in spite of social workers I have to repeat from one year to make me the bones, or mad to distance between these walls.

Maybe I'm really mad because I see things I never thought to see elsewhere: a Somali mother who takes a small Chechen arms and cuddle as his own son, Kosovar Albanians Serbs and Roma who play billiards together, Cameroon which the Albanians call "brother" ... I wish the world would go crazy and see what I see on the street, the supermarket, school and public squares. Too bad that this madness will develop only in the cage of despair.

Dog Suddenly Drinking Lots Of Water And Feels Hot

Head down

I live in a borderline neighborhood where cross Turkish and Muslim North African immigration and legalized prostitution. The
by looking at the sidewalk, not looking up.
If you do not look at the ground, to risk tripping over too many kilos of immodizia piled on the sidewalk.
If you do not look at the ground, I would see the bodies of semi-naked African girls waiting for their customers, lying languidly in a chair covered with dirty towels, in front of a window overlooking the street. On the same street
gypsy children play barefoot and alone, playing in the street, between the legs of people. Playing football or running a bicycle, stopping every few yards to pass through or clients of prostitutes. They play in front of the windows as if they were playing in a park.
If you do not look at the ground, cross the lustful gaze of men who cazzeggiano close to the walls (in Algeria are said to have a job to prevent the walls from falling), that when I step say "bonjour Mademoiselle, ça va?" and that, if I'm not around, I cry "putain" . Never raised his eyes, lest they receive a minimum notice of consent to their advances vulgar and crude.
Sometimes I feel responsible even exaggerated attention I get! Why not begin to cover their heads with a hijab? Why wear a skirt? Look, Cecilia, your neighbors are well protected by long burka and do not show their ankles, let alone the knees!
Disorientation.

Really Tight Chest Cough

WONDER: sm; sudden and great wonder, amazement.

Yoani Sanchez, Cuban blogger who writes posts that talk about the reality of an illiberal regime, in order to have access to a computer that is connected to the network must enter illegally in hotels reserved for foreigners claiming to be one of them. for a quarter of an hour of freedom in which the hands and knees tremble spends a very high figure ... without calculating the risk they might run.
I could write a post every 5 minutes, but I do not. Not for lack of ideas, but they are too lazy. There it is never too little account of the fortune you have.
Many emotions went through my veins these last weeks. A meeting
unexpected. I had lost track of Chechen boy transferred to another center for more than three months. The farewell made me cry of rage and pain that I could not tell him because I do not speak Russian and he does not speak any language I know. I had lost all hope of being able to find one day ... then one morning I see him in the hallway of the center. I can not explain in words what happened to my body: at a certain point, you are twisted and made me cry. We spent long moments to be covered with tears because I was crying but without being able to say we were happy. Fortunately, the case went to the harp a lady who speaks Russian and that sometimes makes the interpreter for the social workers could finally ... give a name to our emotions. I understand that friendship has no color or alphabet, just flesh, bones and blood.
An unexpected request.
- Belli your earrings, give it to me!
- No, Madam, are mine.
- I like, give it to me.
- No, Madam, are a gift to which I will not give up.
- Give it to me, I'll give you a couple more in return.
- No, Madam, I like my earrings. It 's why I have chosen them.
- ...
- ...
- One day they will lose those earrings! sentence followed by a mocking smile.
- If this happens, I'll know where to find them.
An unexpected coincidence.
ricomninciato I have my own business as a translator. This time I had to translate from French to Italian ee from French to German to an Italian and a Swiss who came to visit the center for trade (ENAR for operators in shelters).
We meet in front of the station Rixensart, greeted by a colleague of mine.
train in front of me two young people. I make so many trips by train and I stopped listening to the conversations of several traveling companions ... unaware of being spied upon (a task which amused me much when I took the train once every three weeks). I head off the train, followed by a couple of people, to my colleague. They were the two players! Et voila, the coincidence!

time expired, it's time to pick up my clothes clean and smelling in the coin-operated laundry in front of house ..