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goodbyes, always trying desperately to disguise themselves in some way to see you, and when in the end it turns out that the trick was not there, it seems incredible every time. I am fascinated by the confusing game of the trajectories, and the wonderful chaos that underlies, he makes the rules. for every little piece of road in the company is still something alive and shining, and often I realize that is something that I seek wealth. for that it is always worth something. me and my stupid habit of get attached too!
nothing stands still, and that's okay. but they may spend years, hinder km, the world may collapse, but those you call friends are never lost really. f

csxqp: Elvis - "Genoa for us,"

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in reference to: Google (see Google Sidewiki )

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dan peterson bench again on Olympus and one thing that makes me feel old and young at the same time. as if the lapse of time between me baby I'm trying desperately to see on TV final in Lausanne and me as a man (okay, my child grew up) I see the games with a sideline pass at the end of the neck was bunched in a 'only in parentheses. twenty-three years but are actually carved from hundreds of games, and having played hundreds of stories, hundreds of baskets that enhance or cause to curse.
Dan Peterson on the bench Olimpia still makes me think of the strong smell of rubber of the balloon. my first workout. the blood of my skinned knees on the concrete playground of sunny O. D'Antoni smiling with his arm in a cup. the attack on a three and a flex across the board, designed with the movements on the slate. the videotape with an assist by magic. the dilapidated halls of the province more foggy, Nole, Piossasco, venaria. Prime Minister's fingers in Livorno. the encouragement of my teammates. the liberal wrong on purpose to avoid relegation. shouted the choruses from the curve, with scarves, behind the drum. roccambolesco the tournament played in France, we finished third but only because all withdrew. damn shot to 24 cents from the end. the wood of the bench, so hard to bear, if you are a troubled teenager. the company with CSKA. eighteen on my back, always on a shirt too great.
white and red, always present.
just wanted to say that makes a strange effect on my heart from the old guard and a fan of long standing there to see him preach spitting blood at the same place where it was when this wonderful game for me has begun. here, I just wanted to say this, but this post took a turn too celebratory and elegiac, so it is best to finish ahead of time ... Mom throws the dough oukey here? f

csxqp: Dean Martin - "That's Amore"