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Lezione 1

A teacher told me: If you want to make comics not worth a shit, you know what to draw, if you do not know framing.

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E' Natale

Because I like it too much around a Christmas card of the talented and likeable Claudia Checcaglini and Fabio Lai .
Ah, Merry Christmas!

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Tavolo di lavoro

half board

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Sofismi inutili

Non tutte le cose hanno un senso. O forse, molto più semplicemente:

il senso di alcune cose è quello di non avere senso.

Provocatore o indeciso? Indeciso.

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Message in a bottle

Il problema è che non riesco a buttarmi e mi rifugio nel burlone. L'amore è sdolcinato quando diventa banale. Non sono innamorato.

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Some news

Hello everyone, I'm back as promised with some interesting news. First
is ready and on-line e-book that contains our (and especially your ) operates. You can download it at:

http://www.comune.modena.it/biblioteche/holden/ebook.htm # 42

sure to read a bit 'what is written on the page and then download the version ". exe" when you run it on your computer screen and will appear in the cover, then you can browse the e-book directly with the "PagUp" and "PagDown. Press the key "F1" instead you will have more complete instructions on other features.
Second, two words on the presentation last Saturday. I know some of the people were disappointed (if not openly annoyed) by how it took place. Summary for who was not there: we were told that our presentation was at 16:30, actually we were queued up at a round table on freedom of information which lasted up to 18:15 in the end leaving little space to present and discuss where our project. Leaving aside the fact I personally found the conference interesting in itself, I realize that neither I nor you (those of you who were) were there for that. What I can tell you ... beyond the fact that obviously it is not dependent on the our will, not from the top of my long (but now not so short) experience with this kind of circumstances I can tell you that these things sometimes happen. It happens that that is the literary event very different from what we had expected. Annoying if you like, but it is not something to be referred to spoil the day: over time you learn to react to anything with a composure worthy of the highest quality foam.
However, as I said in previous post tomorrow March 13 replicates at 17:00 to Library Rotunda.
I do not know what to expect exactly, but certainly not talk about freedom information. It 'not a very propitious time, I realize, but in any case a third time (maybe April 17) is already in the scheduling. More detailed news will follow.
Third, if the thing you can be of interest to the following address:

http://www.kultunderground.org/articoli.asp?art=1230

found an interview with Sara on the Open Book Project. If you want to know more about how we lived our role as 'editors' this could be the right occasion.
last thing: from now until the end of May, the Open Book project outline skin. For the rest of us it was a very beautiful and waiting to put on site la prossima iniziativa ufficiale (sulla quale non mi sbilancio, se non per dirvi che ne stiamo già intensamente parlando e che potrebbe vedere la luce dopo l'estate) vi proponiamo il seguente "gioco".
Vi è piaciuto il nostro spunto ma non il racconto che ne è uscito?
Il racconto vi è piaciuto fino ad un certo punto ma poi ha preso una strada che ritenete poco interessante?
Ri-raccontetelo tutto voi a partire dal punto che preferite, fino alla fine.
Questa volta non avete un preciso limite di battute. Anche se per la nostra sanità mentale, nonchè la vostra incolumità fisica, vi esorto a non andare troppo oltre le 50.000 battute (che mi sembra comunque una quantità di tutto rispetto...)
We welcome your texts until mid-June and, depending on quantity and quality of contributions, we will study how to collect them in an e-book and publish it or not on this blog as they come to us.
In any case, I recommend stay tuned!

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... and here we are! In Chapter 5

As we promised we are publishing the final chapter of our "story with more hands." It 'also available complete story that we urge you to reread the beginning because, as I said before, we've made some changes. I especially apologize to Catherine Catherine in which chapter we have decided to waive the meeting between Stephen and Henry because in the fifth chapter (sebbene Rossana Bernardi richiamasse brevemente l'episodio) non trovava poi uno sbocco narrativo che ritenessimo soddisfacente. Così come mi scuso con tutti coloro i cui capitoli ho fatto una certa dose di violenza (questa colpa è tutta mia, Sara non c’entra o quasi…) a causa del compito di ricucitura della storia che mi era stato affidato, nonché con tutti coloro i cui capitoli non sono stati selezionati: ma d'altra parte ciò faceva parte del "gioco".
Detto questo complimenti a tutti perché il risultato finale di questa esperienza ci ha indubbiamente soddisfatto. Spero che lo stesso si accaduto a voi. Anzi, ci piacerebbe molto sapere che cosa ne pensate per cui vi esortiamo a commentare il calce a questo post sia il final result of the paper, and all that you enjoyed and appreciated the initiative.
I take this opportunity also to officially announce that we will present the e-book proceeds from this text (along with parallel initiatives fantasy and noir) to the event BOOK 2009, at 16:30 on Saturday, March 7 at the Forum Boario di Modena (to understand next to the Parco Novi Sad, Faculty of Economics at the rear of the space in which the municipality often organizes exhibitions of art).
then responds to the event "Scriptures Underground" March 13 at 17 at the City Library which is located next to the Rotunda shopping center.
Meanwhile, I urge you to continue a visitare questo blog, perché continueremo ad aggiornarlo con tutte le notizie riguardanti il progetto!

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Il giorno precedente

Quante erano le volte che avrebbe voluto raccontare tutto al professore? Tre, quattro?
Ma poi si era sempre tirato indietro dicendosi che non spettava a lui parlare. Sapeva che era una bugia che si raccontava per non prendere l’iniziativa.
Una folata di nebbia gelida gli fece affondare la testa nelle spalle imbottite dell’impermeabile. Quella sera non sarebbe entrato nella chiesetta per assistere alla lezione. Sicuramente il professore avrebbe letto e chiesto commenti allo scritto che lui aveva infilato, insieme to that of other students in the pile on the table.
Roberto said he had to act, could not continue to hide. Those words, not his, but brought her hand to the professor, sounded like a dark threat. Absolutely had to talk to him.
would be left waiting outside, and at the end of the lesson, once and for all, and said he would explain everything. That, however, the fog was penetrating to the bone so he decided to wait in the car. He went up, kicking the best hat on his head, dug his hands into his pockets and looking towards the entrance of the church sat patiently waiting. The lesson would not be finished within an hour, estimated.
Roberto had a great fear, and knew that reveal la verità al professore gli avrebbe attirato addosso l’ira di Pietro: una rabbia che aveva imparato a temere fin da piccolo, fin dalle elementari.
Pietro era sempre stato il più forte fra loro due.
Era quello che si rivoltava alle prevaricazioni, alle prepotenze. Le zuffe per lui erano un tonico. Ma se era vero che Pietro era un prepotente, era anche vero che Roberto sapeva di poter sempre contare sul suo aiuto. Tutte le volte che era stato in difficoltà, lui era sempre intervenuto in sua difesa. Anche se poi gli toccava sempre condividerne le punizioni.
Nel suo intimo, Roberto pensava che Pietro avesse delle reazioni esagerate, ma lui era fatto così: selvaggio, privo di controllo; a Roberto faceva venire i brividi.
And what that night Robert was going to do a considerable risk of unleashing its fury.
was distracted from his thoughts by the light coming out of the church. They were all going away. "Why so early?" A shiver ran up my back up to the neck hair stand on end. Alarmed, he went out of the car, remained standing in the mist ... on hold. The professor saw off a cigarette, get into the car and turn on the headlights. He had to hurry. He opened his mouth to call him, but he lost courage and was silent: for the umpteenth time he gave up.
of Stephen's car turned and began moving. Reluctantly, but relieved, Robert turned away and disappeared into the mist.

Today

Stefano parked near the entrance of the small cemetery was in advance. He sat in the car to wait. Inevitably, finding place in front of that memory went back in time.
That unfortunate day continued to flow in her mind like a film loop, endlessly. I still remember that morning when his wife Elena, over lunch, had made some strange talk. He had said that the choice, he strongly supported, to move to her country of origin was not a good idea, there she was all right there. And as she left years earlier, wanted to leave again. Not
had never had occasion to talk about that. Shortly after Helen and Martin were going to slam the car into a plane on the way to school. Besides the obvious guilt for having brought Elena to live in a place that felt hostile, the doubt was left to Stephen, who had not confessed to anyone, even Dr. Sivieri, that the two were somehow connected. With a sigh, he recovered.
Stephen looked at the time, there was no appointment and little William could not be seen again. Suddenly he was the doubt that you have misunderstood the place, also saw all the mystery that had enveloped the affair from the outset.
got out, feeling called William, who turned and saw was approaching.
"Finally!" He thought.
Master held out his hand, "Good evening, Professor!" And a nod, invited him closer to the fence "Excuse me, all this caution, but in this country even the walls have ears, professor, do not think I'm paranoid . Plus I'm breaking a promise. "
Stephen noticed that the old master was quite upset, but decided he continued" It looked like the old story was finished and the villagers had forgotten ... but then she has come to take the course just write in the old church on the edge of the land of Baccani and everything started again. "Amazed
Stephen asked, "What again?"
Stefano began vaguely threatening to link the script with William's words and did not like the direction that his thoughts were taking. So he asked to be more clear.
"I promised to keep quiet ... but his wife, professor, has never said anything when he lived here?" In memory of Stephen
he reared his speech that his wife had done the morning of the accident. The buzzing of the ears and temples throbbed: "What are you talking about?" Found the strength to ask.
William looked at him almost with pity then continued "I knew his wife was I know a pupil? There was a scandal when she was about 18 years. At that time, had become friends with a young son of a wealthy family in the country, the Baccani. The boy had already had problems in the past but at that time seemed to have found a balance. Elena's friendship, however, destabilized the new, soon became jealous of all the people who spoke with her, until at some point the seizure. For two days he kept locked in the church, until the father was not aware of what his son was doing. Then Baccani, thanks to knowledge and to their money, they managed to prevent his son a job, put everything to rest and sent him for a few years in a nursing home. But when you tornati… lui ricominciò ad importunarla.” A Stefano girava la testa, Elena non gliene aveva mai parlato… e lui dove aveva la testa per non accorgersi di niente? Guglielmo senza tregua continuò “E’ a sua moglie che avevo fatto la promessa di non dire niente, ma poi c’è stato l’incidente... E ora è lei ad essere in pericolo. Quell’uomo la odia. E’ un pazzo pericoloso.” A Stefano stava per scoppiare la testa. Adesso quelle parole lette tante volte trovavano un senso: “E’ tutta colpa tua”, “Sei un ladro un bastardo”, “Ti schiaccerò”, “Pagherai” .
“Questo vecchio rincoglionito dovrebbe farsi i cazzi suoi.” Si inserì fra loro una voce sibilante.
Interdetti, Stefano e Guglielmo si voltarono nella sua direzione e scorsero l’uomo che aveva seguito tutte le lezioni di Stefano in cappello e impermeabile. Un ghigno di rabbia deformava il suo viso. I suoi occhi erano ridotti a due fessure, fissi su Stefano. Nella mano destra aveva una pietra, immediatamente la scagliò contro Stefano ma colpì invece Guglielmo, alla guancia. Gli occhiali del vecchio maestro volarono in terra.
Incredulo il professore vide l’uomo raccogliere un’altra pietra e tirargliela, mentre gli si avvicinava. Stefano la scansò ma non riuscì a decidersi a fare qualcosa.
“Roberto, smettila!” gridò Guglielmo.
Un sibilo ringhioso gli rispose: “Roberto un corno, quel cacasotto non ha le palle per farvela pagare. Sei tu che gli hai rubato l’Elena. E quella stronza l’ha lasciato a causa tua. Poi tocca a me sistemare i suoi casini, come al solito. Avevo detto a quella puttana che se non tornava con Roberto l’avrei ammazzata!”
Stefano si sentiva annichilito. Quello lo prese per le braccia, lo spintonò lontano da Guglielmo: “Sveglia, finocchio! Lo sapevi che quella troia di tua moglie mi era scappata? Nella chiesa le avevo mollato solo un paio di schiaffi, che cazzo!”
Di nuovo quella risata spezzata, crudele. L’uomo lo gettò a terra poi, con la faccia stravolta dalla rabbia, si went to hit him again with a kick. Then Stephen found the strength to react. A grope picked up a stone, if you closed fist and then tried to throw it in, but another armed stone hit him in the forehead. He fell to the ground, blinded by pain and blood trickling into his face.
"Bastard out you do, as sure as my name is Peter. You have to disappear. I'll kill you with my hands, bitch! "Shouted another.
The blood roared in my ears. He shook his head. He had to react if you do not want to die.
suddenly came to him another kick on his side that left him breathless.
then rolled on its side, and with all the strength he era rimasta, sferrò una pedata alla cieca, colpendo al basso ventre il suo assalitore.
Fu un colpo particolarmente bene assestato: l’uomo crollò a terra con le mani tra le gambe guaendo di dolore.
Stefano si rialzò con l’aiuto di Guglielmo, si asciugò il sangue sul viso, preparandosi a continuare la lotta. Poi si accorse che un improvviso cambiamento era sopravvenuto nel suo aggressore.
“Basta, basta non picchiatemi più, non ho fatto niente. Pietro se n’è andato, sono Roberto non mi riconoscete?”
Guglielmo intanto si era tolto il cravattino: “Leghiamolo subito, presto! Quello che lui chiama Pietro potrebbe tornare da un momento all’altro.”
Ma non accadde, Roberto si lasciò docilmente legare le mani dietro la schiena. Non c’era traccia in lui della furia omicida di qualche istante prima.
Stefano faticò a ritrovare il filo dei suoi pensieri. Fece dei lunghi respiri, la schiena gli faceva male.
Barcollava per i colpi che aveva subito e sentiva salire la nausea di una probabile commozione cerebrale.
Da quel momento in poi i suoi ricordi divennero vaghi.
Ricordava la gente che pochi istanti dopo era venuta ad accalcarsi attorno a loro richiamata dal rumore della loro colluttazione, vagamente la polizia e poi l’ambulanza che lo condusse in ospedale.
Per quasi tutto il tempo fissò Roberto che, finché non giunsero a portarlo via, rimase sdraiato a ground, moaning like a child.

(Author: Bernardi Ross)

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straight

Hello.
Here we are at the end of our short but very intense adventure novel collective. So 'waiting to today's publication of the last chapter of our history, but unfortunately I have to ask you to wait until tomorrow. This time for us is a bit 'more complex, because in addition to selecting and editing the material, we must also take care to read the whole story and place the small inconsistencies that, because of the many hands that the story is over, are continued to accumulate over time. Hoping to do a job that is the best possible io e Sara abbiamo perciò deciso di prenderci l'intera giornata per rileggere e sistemare il testo di tutti i capitoli. Aspettatevi perciò che la storia finale sia rivista in alcuni dettagli, rispetto a quella che avete avuto modo leggere fin qua.
Ci risentiamo domani per la pubblicazione dell'ultimo capitolo (nonché del testo complessivo) e per alcune news riguardanti dove e quando il risultato del nostro sarà presentato "al pubblico".

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Assist

Dunque eccoci qua, quello che state per leggere è il penultimo capitolo della nostra storia. Un capitolo preparatorio, in cui vediamo rientrare in scena Enrica e scopriamo (o almeno possiamo ragionevolmente supporre) che era lei la figura vista da Stefano mentre si allontanava dalla chiesa. A questo punto mi sembra piuttosto ovvio pensare che Enrica andrà con Stefano all'appuntamento con Guglielmo al vecchio cimitero di campagna, ed è qui che si gioca la soluzione di ogni nostro mistero. Ma sarà una buona scelta? O forse è proprio Enrica che ha architettato tutto? Ricordate nel capitolo uno che il suo comportamento pareva assai strano? Certo la cosa potrebbe sempre essere frutto dell'immaginazione sovreccitata di Stefano. Ma a parte questo: chi ha scritto il testo che ha dato inizio alla nostra storia, e perché? Che cosa sa Guglielmo? Mi sembra fin troppo ovvio che sia qualcosa che riguarda il passato di Stefano, quel passato in cui hanno perso la vita sua moglie e sua figlia. O forse invece non got to do anything?
As usual, it's your turn to tell us, and sewing all the pieces together the mystery.
Remember: rileggetevi good for the whole text before starting work in order to write something that is as consistent as possible with what is written above the others.
Because we realize that to write this last chapter you may need a little 'more work we decided to move the upper limit of the lines to 12,000 (ie 5,000 more than usual).
Good job!

Ps: For the usual technical problems, it takes a while 'to update the total, but you will see that by Sunday evening it will be already on-line the new version.

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CHAPTER 4

The pot of pasta lying in the sink in some penne with charred floating in the water: the one with which Stephen had promptly filled when, rushing into the kitchen, he realized the disaster happened to her dinner. What
dinner, at that time, the problem was less important. While eating the salad
Stephen thought the ticket of William: so it was not the only one to feel, lately, a sense of unease within the walls of the church.
William was aware of something of a hazard that must surely be attributed to the author of that damned text.
For a moment Stephen was a desire to escape from everything he could to stop the course with an apology, his health.
the bottom was not even a lie because the tension that had accumulated since he had written across it was literally wearing out ambiguous.
After the tragedy that had ruined her life had become fragile as a child and no longer felt able to cope with difficulties. Stop
course, malinger ... It occurred to Enrica and thought that he would try to learn the news that the writing course had no more.
Imagine the disappointment on his handsome visage. He knew how to Enrica
held to his lectures, he saw how it looked in the explanation with his occhi pieni di interesse che catturavano ogni sua parola.
In uno dei testi anonimi che Stefano aveva raccolto, lo stesso che aveva letto il giorno precedente in classe, si parlava della scoperta della scrittura: l’autore o autrice, dopo aver vissuto per anni nella disistima delle proprie capacità, diceva di aver scoperto di saper scrivere e di aver ricavato un’immensa gioia da questa consapevolezza.
Stefano era certo di aver riconosciuto la penna di Enrica in quelle righe.
E dunque come avrebbe potuto abbandonarla?
Per la prima volta dopo un tempo che gli sembrava infinito e dopo un dolore che credeva non gli avrebbe più dato respiro, Stefano si domandò se, per caso, non si stesse innamorando.

La mattina seguente, mentre cercava di staccare i residui di pennette dal fondo della pentola con un cucchiaio di legno, Stefano pensava al suo appuntamento con Guglielmo per quella sera.
L’anziano maestro aveva indicato, come luogo dell’appuntamento, quello di cui parlava nella sua poesia.
“Cristo, il cimitero!” esclamò Stefano dopo aver ripensato alle rime di Guglielmo.
Si trattava di un minuscolo cimitero di campagna dove Stefano ricordava di essere stato una volta con un collega: era autunno anche quella volta e Stefano ricordava di essersi infangato le scarpe per via del terreno bagnato.
Il fatto era che Stefano odiava i cimiteri e, dopo la disgrazia, se ne teneva lontano, rifiutandosi di frequentare also the one where they had buried his wife and daughter.
It was almost time to leave to go to an appointment with Dr. Sivieri, his therapist. Before you do
Stephen went to get the red folder with the papers of the writing course, pulled out the text that had so disturbed and, having folded in four, slipped it into his coat pocket.
Doctor Sivieri, what do you think? "
" I can say without a shadow of a doubt that whoever wrote these things is a person with some mental disorder, but ... "
" But? "
" But there is something ... false. It seems that those who have scritto, abbia voluto calcare la mano. Insomma è come se le sue parole fossero mirate a spaventare chi le legge proprio per la loro assurdità e per la loro incongruenza”
“Lei crede? Qualcuno vuole spaventarmi allora? E perché? Qualcuno vuole che il corso finisca? Ma è una cosa assurda! Se a qualcuno dei miei studenti il corso non andasse a genio basterebbe solo che smettesse di frequentarlo. Perché boicottarlo?”
“Non lo so, Stefano. Non posso darle una risposta, purtroppo. Posso solo suggerirle di fare attenzione”
“Dottore, ho deciso di andare fino in fondo a questa storia, comunque. Questa sera andrò all’appuntamento con Guglielmo e sentirò quello che ha to tell me. "

advantage of the fact that he was in town, Stephen decided to take a leap in the pharmacy.
was Saturday and the way of the old town was pretty crowded.
There was a very good pastry over and Stephanie decided to stop for a relaxing lunch.
His heart gave a leap when he saw Henry who, leaning on the counter, drinking a cappuccino.
met her and she seemed upset to see him:
"Professor, what a pleasure to meet you! He knows that last night made me worry? "
" Worry? "
" Yes, it was so funny in class, looked at us all in a way ... Then he told us that he felt bad and that the lesson was over. You know, I went out with the others and went back home, but then I thought better and went back to see how he was "
" Really? "
" Yes, but she was already in the car, I tried to stop but not I saw "
" Ah, I see. Thank you for being worried about me, I'm better now anyway "
" Thank God, "said Enrica and her face stretched in an air of sincere relief.
"Look, Enrica, I know I should not ask, but the text I was reading last night is his, right?"
The woman's face broke into a bright smile:
"He capito, allora”
“Sì, Enrica, credo di aver capito anche tante altre cose di lei”
“Anch’io ho capito qualcosa di lei, professore. Mi scusi se glielo dico, ci conosciamo poco ma sento che lei... è molto triste”.
Parlando avevano imboccato il corso.

(Autore: Caterina Caterini)

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turning point

Bene eccoci di nuovo. Innanzitutto grazie a tutti coloro che si sono cimentati nella scrittura di questo terzo capitolo, siete stati molti e questo ci rende assai fieri del lavoro che stiamo facendo.
Detto questo, restano ancora due capitoli da scrivere per cui è il momento di imprimere alla storia una certa accelerazione.
We are beginning to get an idea of \u200b\u200bwhat lies hidden in the past of Stephen, but much is still unclear. In addition, we have not discovered who is the figure that our professor sees the end of chapter two. Stefano is expected in return for an appointment by Maestro Guglielmo for the next day. And what is that smell of burning that rises from the floor? Someone is trying to do to our skin is simply the protagonist or his dinner was on fire too long?
Let us know you! The next delivery is set at midnight on Saturday, February 21.
Keep in mind that what you are writing is the penultimate chapter, and I urge you, to the extent possible, to try to provide an "assist" those who will write the last.
Good job!

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Sitting in his old type, Stephen felt the neck was beginning to hurt in what was the principle of a typical migraine. Although part of him would instinctively follow the shadow, she decided it would be too much for that evening. In his mind the urgent need to remove a bit 'relax the brain and making its way ever more quickly, like a bright light through the dark mists of his thoughts. He did do the last step necessary to the key and slowly released the clutch, as he helped the car to stay on with a few strokes with the extra gas. Smiled Ironically, considering that his car did not take the minimum for so long that now we had got used to and crossed the cobblestone square to take up the long avenue lined with cypress trees which connected the church to the province.

The water came down in the shower at the beginning and then reach a comfortably warm temperature until almost red hot, in a few minutes, the windows and bathroom mirrors steam up completely. While Stephen was enjoying the experience invigorating, felt the weight accumulated in the muscles of the shoulders become lighter and the tension slip away. He could almost see his worries down the drain down, drag dal flusso corrente della doccia. Uscendo in accappatoio, diede ai capelli qualche colpo di asciugamano con noncuranza e scese in cucina per preparare la cena. Mise a scaldare in un pentolino le pennette rimaste a pranzo e tolse dal frigo un po' di insalata verde, del prosciutto e una bottiglia di Cardeto rosso già aperta, dopodiché tornò al piano superiore dell'abitazione per vestirsi e finire di asciugarsi i capelli. Seduto sul letto, con il phon acceso in mano, il suo sguardo girovagò senza meta per la stanza fino a fermarsi sopra una foto sul comò. Vi erano ritratte una donna sui 30 anni ed una bambina, entrambe abbronzate e sorridenti, sedute ad un tavolino sul ponte di una nave da crociera. Spense l'asciugacapelli e prese in mano la cornice argentata. “Com'erano belle” disse, contemplando l'immagine. Non ricordava quando fosse stata l'ultima volta che era andato in curva a tifare la sua squadra, né l'ultima volta che era uscito con un amico o un collega a bere una birra. Eppure, dopo tutto quel tempo, c’era una cosa che continuava a rammentare alla perfezione: l'ultima volta che vide sua moglie e sua figlia, il giorno dell'incidente.
Quel giorno anche una parte di lui morì e per alcuni anni Stefano entrò in un tunnel, conducendo un'esistenza al limite dell'anacoretismo. Volti nuovi venivano e volti ormai ben noti se ne andavano, niente legami ma solo pura e neutra professionalità applicata con il minimo sindacale di transfert. Ironia della sorte, the only thing that had always hated his work had suddenly become not only his first choice, but also a sort of screen in which shelter from society. Soon the Academic Council decided to intervene because this teacher, once so loved by his students for his spontaneity and his ability to involve, besides the undoubted preparation, was slowly devolving into a state of semi-autism. Fortunately for him, with the help of friends who had remained close, the principal persuaded the professor to see a specialist, and through many difficulties and sufferings, finally began to feel better. The same Stephen noticed the change and, despite being still very different from the person who was at one time, had begun to find a certain pleasure in his work.
The creative writing class was, in fact, another idea of \u200b\u200bthe therapist. He found it was ideal to start in his approach to stimulate and direct contact with people outside of work.
"Of course Dr. Sivieri this idea of \u200b\u200bwriting course could just keep it for himself. At the next session that will make him the thing I stress is creating more than good ...". While talking to herself, noticed the ball over the yellow paper bag resting on the cabinet. He put the frame, picked up the crumpled paper, and after a long breath, opened it.

"I absolute need to talk in private, I do not trust anyone. It is of interest to you and, heaven forbid, your health, so I can not wait until the next lesson: let's meet tomorrow at the place I mentioned in the poem that made you read. At nine o'clock.
I will have it with you apologize for my rude behavior at the appropriate time, but know that I have good reasons for my caution. God only knows what would happen if I were discovered, then I recommend the most absolute secrecy. Keep your eyes open. "

William

After reading all of a fiato, Stefano analizzò nuovamente il messaggio con più calma. Leggere quelle parole gli aveva causato un cupo attacco di apprensione; certo non rimase sconvolto, essendo ormai preparato al peggio, ma avvertì comunque un brivido percorrergli la schiena. Stava per iniziare a riflettere sul biglietto, quando il suo olfatto fu rapito da un forte odore di bruciato che proveniva dal piano inferiore. Mise in tasca il foglietto e scese le scale.

(Autore: Tommaso Caverni)

Indian Tabla Style File Yamaha

CHAPTER 3 The story continues ...

Saluti a tutti. Eccoci puntuali alla pubblicazione del capitolo 2.
Volevo comunicarvi che io e Sara ci siamo consultati sull’opportunità o meno di to follow-up attempt (done with Chapter 1) by forking the story and we decided that this required too many management difficulties (for us) and too complicated (for you). Therefore we decided to publish only one version of Chapter 2, and then only after giving the branch of history that we had previously indicated as 1b and was written by Elena Cervetti. The first branch is instead (ahimè!) considered extinct and especially sorry for Cora Bacchelli beautiful text of which will not know the result and we invite you to try, if it pleases you, in the drafting of Chapter 3.
I also wanted to communicate to everyone, but especially to those who passed now for the first time on our site and was interested a partecipare all’iniziativa, che qui a fianco nella colonna di destra (in fondo alla sezione denominata “Book Modena narrativa”) potete scaricare tutto il testo della storia fin qui, nonché il regolamento di partecipazione, in un unico file.
E ora, il seguito del racconto!

Mixing Stillman's Arche And Fair And Lovely

Chapter 2

Uscendo dalla chiesa Stefano pensò che si era fatto prendere troppo la mano.
Si vergognava di avere mandato a casa i suoi studenti con una scusa, ma adesso che la lezione era finita voleva solo tornare a casa e dormire, dormire e ancora dormire.
Si sentiva esausto e tormentato.
Prima di andarsene, però, decise di concedersi una sigaretta.
Un’eccezione the three planned for each day he needed it. Standing beside the car, felt the fabric of the vest. "Too many pockets," he thought "Comfortable but always end up struggling to find what you need."
First found tissue paper, crumpled up the yellow sheet, keys, and then, finally, the rigid box of cigarettes. In a hurry also tried the matches. Where had he put the matches? If we found another pocket of the pants this time. He did not like to use the lighter: the tobacco gave a different flavor. He lit his cigarette, shook his hand to turn the match that he put in the box and then again last breath warm, full, dropped the throat. Coming out of the mouth, the smoke hung around him in the face, mixed with the cold fog of the night, helping him think more clearly.
First, while he was in church with the students, if only she could light a cigarette, his brain was turned with the greatest clarity, would not have got involved so deeply. Because few words, written in that way was so unusual, it had so shaken?
Stephen thought that perhaps he had done everything himself. He had spent a week thinking long and lonely, for the most part, personal. Very personal.
His sensibility had interpreted those words as the result of a self-destructive folly. His
pensieri si erano poi ridimensionati, fino ad addensarsi attorno ad un unico punto cruciale che riguardava la sua esistenza: non poteva capitargli di nuovo. Non doveva.
Gettò a terra la sigaretta e, con un gesto per lui inconsueto, la spense rabbiosamente sotto il tacco. Aprì la portiera e si ritrovò ancora, nella mano sinistra stretta a pugno, i fiammiferi e la pallina di carta gialla che aveva raccolto nella chiesetta. L’aveva raccolta di impulso. Convinto che contenesse un significato e, magari, chiarito quelle parole. Invece ne aveva aperto appena un lembo, e immediatamente lo aveva richiuso. Poi aveva spento le luci, era uscito nella notte e, chiusa a chiave la chiesetta, non aveva ancora avuto il fegato di guardare il resto.
"What a situation!" He thought as he nervously, you put everything back in his pocket and climbed in the car. Condensation on the glass and wiped his idea clear and very convincing appeared from nowhere. The going at times when he was on the ropes, to find a solution.
It was, finally, to confirm the choice he had to do some years ago.
Stephen thought that if this did not reach certainty would be freaked out and could not afford it any more. He felt invigorated and at the same time quieted by the decision.
He inserted the ignition key and looking up saw, about twenty meters away, a solitary human figure. The mist and the dim light of the parking consentiva di distinguere se era voltata verso di lui o gli desse le spalle. Era ferma. Pareva osservarlo, o forse… aspettarlo.
Da quanto tempo era lì? Quando era uscito non l’aveva notata.
Aguzzò la vista nello sforzo di metterla a fuoco. Nulla da fare.
Accese i fari dell’auto. In quel momento la sagoma si girò e si allontanò svanendo nella nebbia come un fantasma.

(Autore: Bernardi Rossana)

Dunque in questo capitolo iniziamo a scoprire pezzetti di un passato turbolento del nostro protagonista Stefano. Che cosa vi si annida? Follia? Depressione? E che relazione c’è tra quel passato e il misterioso testo consegnato da uno dei your students? (Although, incidentally, are we really sure that you have a student? Messages that may not be Stephen, in his delirium, he sends himself?) And what is written in yellow page crumpled by master William, who is not Stephen you decide to open? But above all, who is the mysterious man who turns away from the parking lights turn on as soon as Stefano car?
The onus is now back to you.
The next chapter is to be delivered by midnight on Saturday, February 14.
Good luck to all!

Whiplash Injury And Pregnancy

an E! CHAPTER 1

Well, here we come! First let me thank all those who have cimentati nella scrittura del primo capitolo e di invitarli a continuare a scrivere. Purtroppo per la natura del progetto non è possibile dare soddisfazione a tutti, ma se anche questa volta il vostro testo non è stato selezionato vi esortiamo a ritentare perché di certo non mancheremo di premiare la vostra perseveranza. Inoltre, sia per avere l’occasione di dare visibilità ad un numero maggiore di voi, sia per aumentare il livello di interattività del progetto (nonché perché ci piace complicarci la vita…) di concerto con i responsabili di “Open book fantasy” e “noir” abbiamo deciso di introdurre una piccola variante.
Invece di pubblicare solo il capitolo migliore tra quelli pervenuti, ne propose two. In this case, so instead of having only Chapter 1, we have the first chapter and Chapter 1b.
's up to you, at this point, choose the one you like best (or one where you see more opportunities of development) and continue. At that point, according to the (es) of Chapter 2 that we decide to choose, including a chapter that precedes it will be fully "official."
Then, if we decide to continue this experiment, the "establishment" in Chapter 2 will be given by the texts chosen for the Chapter 3, and so on until the end.
There seems complex?
In reality it is more to explain than to put into practice.
you decide to take charge se preferite continuare la storia a partire dal capitolo 1a o dal capitolo 1b: al resto pensiamo noi. In ogni caso per qualsiasi dubbio potete chiederci delucidazioni contattandoci via e-mail allo stesso indirizzo a cui spedite i racconti.
Direi che questo è tutto. La scadenza per la consegna del Capitolo 2 è fissata alla mezzanotte di venerdì 6 febbraio.
Buona lettura e buon lavoro!

Hand Sanitizer And Herpes

"rejected" (first ex)

Dopo un secondo tenue scricchiolio il portone tornò silenzioso.
Doveva essere stato soltanto il vento.
Stefano riportò gli occhi sul testo che aveva in mano. Notò che non era scritto su un normale foglio da stampante come tutti gli altri, ma su una sottile carta filigranata decorata da un disegno che la penombra della chiesa non permetteva di distinguere. Proseguì la lettura, come ipnotizzato da quella grafia ricercata ed elegante, da antico amanuense, “Sono un maledetto bugiardo”.
Senza riuscire a spiegarne il motivo, trovava quelle parole familiari in modo inquietante. “Sono un maledetto bugiardo, questo sono.”
Una ventata gelida arrivò dal fondo della chiesa e gettò a terra la cartellina con i testi.
Stefano sussultò, la fronte imperlata di sudore, gli occhi fissi sul pesante portone, ora socchiuso. Nella piccola chiesa a parte lui non c’era nessuno.
Rilesse il paragrafo “Non vi ho ancora detto chi sono, voi credete di conoscermi, è ovvio, non c’è needs no introduction in cases like this, but ... lies, deceit, spell the words. The subtle charms of writing and writers ...
are a damned liar, this is. I lied. Chin often, I would say for centuries.
Remember? At the first lesson was asked 'why are you here at this course?', Well, I'll tell you, I'm here because the classes are held in this church desecrated, desecrated after a murder, remain unpunished, which occurred more than fifty ' years ago.
At that time the writer's death shocked this quiet provincial town, hypocritical, conservative and dull.
And to share with my damn life, vi svelerò un mistero. Autore del delitto di questo insignificante imbrattacarte sono proprio io, l’anonimo, ma se preferite darmi un nome potete chiamarmi... Stefano”.
Stefano chiuse gli occhi, colto da un senso di vertigine.
Ebbe la sensazione di ricordare una torrida sera d’estate, una folla mesta e attonita in lenta processione per le vie del centro e le candele accese per la veglia, brani scelti letti con voce rotta sul sagrato di una chiesa. E le vetrine dell’unica libreria e dell’edicola del paese tappezzate dalla copertina cartonata del primo e unico romanzo che aveva dato fama all’uomo assassinato.
Era un ricordo che non avrebbe saputo collocare con precisione nel tempo, né dire se fosse real or not, but attacked it with the clarity and detail of the brutality that sometimes have some nightmares.
The door of the church creaked again, but this time the light filter light from street lamps softly illuminating the white walls and bare building. Serena came dashing, blacks hair collected back by a headband pink, chubby cheeks flushed from running, laughing talking to Enrica. Behind them, the teacher proceeded in small steps, shy and reserved as usual.
Upon arrival, the church was filled with rumors that Stephen seemed to come from far away. Stefano
stirred with difficulty, tried to compose himself to accommodate its students, as if nothing had happened, but he felt very upset and confused.
Who could be the author of that manuscript? And because the content tormented him so deeply?

(Author: Cora Bacchelli)

Bella Modeling Agency La

CHAPTER 1 (1b ex Chapter 1 hour "official")

quickly put away the text in the folder, still troubled, and surrounded by a multitude of conflicting thoughts, turned his face to the door contract. William came through the door and do so and looking down, he sat in his usual wooden chair with a back chipped.
"Hello teacher!" She said as she pulled out a brown leather briefcase from some yellow leaves with holes.
"Good evening, William" said Stephen, catching the eye with a particular teacher who screeched with gentle elegance of his person. His leather shoes, topped by a white cotton terry socks were dirty with dried mud and somewhat torn.
The silence was broken by the arrival of other students. Stefano, waking from that strange state of immobility that had crashed, greeted the new arrivals. Then, turning his back to rows of chairs and desks that slowly filled up, he found himself inevitably think of that text so bizarre that troubled him.
had to decide first whether to discuss with the class. He had re-read at least a dozen times and the written word at random without un ordine apparentemente logico e piene di errori grammaticali risuonavano dentro di lui in modo alquanto ambiguo. Non aveva idea di chi potesse essere l’autore di un tale testo e non poteva neanche confrontare la calligrafia con quella degli studenti, perché quelle parole erano state scritte con un normografo. Inoltre l’autore aveva utilizzato una miriade di colori e aveva disposto le parole in forme ellittiche. Eppure tutto ciò non gli pareva avere l’aspetto di uno scherzo.
Decise infine di non farne menzione con la classe ed ignorare deliberatamente il testo, al di là di tutto principalmente per la sua incomprensibilità. Prese quindi in mano gli altri ed iniziò a commentare quello che a suo parere era più meritevole, almeno dal punto di vista stilistico. Riteneva di aver individuato l’autore di alcuni dei componimenti. Secondo il suo intuito quello che stava leggendo ora era opera di Enrica. Una storia molto commovente, di solitudine, di emarginazione sociale.
Ma in realtà mentre Stefano leggeva, gli occhi di Enrica erano di ghiaccio. Quell’azzurro tenue era fisso in un punto di chissà dove, straniato tra la polvere del pavimento di marmo, mentre il suo viso era impietrito in un sorriso surreale. La donna, muovendo senza tregua un piede, faceva salire di un centimetro o due il pantalone di lino nero, lasciando scorgere per pochi intermittenti secondi, un tatuaggio a forma di spirale.
Intanto Stefano, mentre commentava il testo che aveva in mano, saw from above the lunette glasses a rather unusual scene: William, looking vaguely amused, nervously crumpled balls of paper in its yellow leaves, after which he placed all in a row at the end of the bench. Stefano annoyed stopped. The class
glanced at the professor. William dropped the ball on the ground.
Inwardly Stefano could not stop thinking about the cryptic text author unknown, could not stop asking questions. Why upset him like that? In addition, perhaps as a consequence of what that day felt the class in a different way. Details that otherwise would not have even noticed the time seemed morbidly full of meaning.
After a few moments of silence, decided to interrupt the lesson.
"Excuse me but now I do not feel very well, it's better to stop the lesson. The next time you comment on other texts. "Stefano said before the puzzled eyes of students.
Slowly they began to take their stuff and leave the church with a sequential row of "Goodbye." Watching them come out of the corner of the eye, Stefano focused man with a raincoat that day had come. Maybe he was the author of that text? He was not present when the students had deposited them on the desk. In theory it was possible. And, if so, why had not come? Perhaps to understand the paternity leave?
"Enough!" He said. He must try not to think about it, either at the time were only guesses.
It was late evening, the dim light of the lamps in the church wall returned to its long history. Stefano increasingly victim of his thoughts, he was completely estranged from the contingency of reality. He put the folder containing the text in red brown leather bag and get out quickly before he gave a small glimpse of the empty pews. On the ground, asleep at the foot of a chair, there was a ball of yellow paper.
was that William had dropped. With
gasp went to pick it up and the opening.

(autore: Elena Cervetti)

Comments On Who Has Biggest Boobs In Bollywood?

PROLOGUE

Stefano schiacciò il pulsante di accensione e regolò al massimo la stufa elettrica.
Era stato molto felice quando aveva scoperto quale sede il comune gli avesse assegnato per il suo corso di scrittura creativa. Quella piccola chiesetta sconsacrata, posta proprio al limitare del paese, era sicuramente un luogo suggestivo dove tenere un corso di tal genere. L’unico difetto era che in quella stagione all’interno dell’edificio la temperatura era gelida.
Sistemata la stufa si sollevò guardandosi intorno. La chiesa era piccola, poco illuminata e praticamente vuota. I suoi muri erano intonacati di bianco, except for a fragment of a fresco in the apse remained, although the small rose window, located above the dark wooden door, lets in soft glow from the outside world.
Stephen looked at his watch would arrive soon and her students still had to put in order their texts collected in the folder.
Students officially enrolled in the course were fourteen, but the lectures were open to everyone so happened that there were other occasional listeners. In particular there was a man who had followed all the lessons. Usually sat in the back row, came to class already started and left several minutes prior to their conclusion. He always had a hat well pulled down on his head and kept his hands constantly in the pocket of a raincoat that never took off. Even among students
official in reality there were some characters who had caught his attention: the kind of course in fact almost always attracted a very diverse fauna human. There was such
Mark, a college student twenty-five years, holed a few tests from the engineering degree, he decided to follow more closely his creativity. The slender body, the mild-mannered and he suggested a bohemian dress uncertain sexual orientation, while deeply carved eye sockets or imply the sleepless nights.
Then there was Henry, who for years had almost forty-five but to see her she looked ten less. Incredible to think that twenty-eight and had a son who had raised all by myself. Enrica liked. He had an open smile and a practical attitude. When asked during the first lesson to everyone: "Why are you here?" And "What do you expect from this course?" The students gave their answers varied, but all, as almost always happened, due to three standard behaviors. There were those who had taken advantage of this occasion to speak of him often for minutes without giving any answer, who had stuttered and appeared to be uncertain phrases mutilated him first cast doubt on the motivations that had led him there and then those who had repeated the gist of Answers others had given a few moments before. Enrica instead said simply: "Because I love writing and I hope to learn how to do better."
Another character that was once fond of was Bill, the master.
was what once was called "a true gentleman: polite, gallant with the ladies, always dressed with jacket, hat and bow tie. She taught in elementary school to an old age and now it must have been that close to seventy to eighty. Stefano sincerely envied his curious spirit and his mind is always ready. "I wonder if I ever get there at his age ... I am certainly not in such good shape" considerava fra sé.
Guglielmo aveva una grandissima passione per la letteratura e scriveva poesie da moltissimi anni. Una volta gliene aveva fatta leggere una, alla fine della lezione, quando ormai tutti erano usciti. Stefano era rimasto piacevolmente colpito dallo stile delicato ed evocativo. Gli aveva chiesto se avesse mai pensato di proporle a qualche editore e aveva sorriso della sua timidezza quando il maestro gli aveva risposto “No, no… io le scrivo solo per me”.
Infine c’era Serena, una sedicenne grassottella con un faccino da cartone animato e una frangetta sbarazzina.
Alla sua coloratissima borsa di Hello Kitty aveva attaccato mille oggetti diversi: pupazzetti, portachiavi, campanellini e chissà cos’altro jumble and gaiety to his every movement caused a jingle that always heralded the arrival a few moments before his appearance.
always came wrapped up in his duvet discovery that left a little 'back, with a long colored wool scarf around her neck several times and turned a funny pair of plush pink earmuffs.
remembered a bit 'candy, or Kitty wore drawn on the bag and gloves.
Stephen smiled thinking about how during his presentation he candidly admitted his hope that this course could help improve the ratings of Italian in high school.

The professor gave a final glance at the text and place the other, the last was left in his hands and his mood darkened.
As usual he had spent much of the sixth class to talk about writing in first person and the importance of experiences in the autobiographical books of fiction, after which he asked his students to write a text like that. The songs were anonymous, and even he knew who had been written. To further protect the anonymity was even left the church at the time of delivery. Neither knew who among the students had not delivered: the texts were in fact only twelve. The idea was that this system would allow him to read and discuss more freely in front of the class had also explicitly specified that all the texts were read and discussed.
Yet, for the first time in his life, he wondered if in the case of that particular text, it was not inappropriate.
He read the first lines, and as each of the now numerous times that he had addressed those words, he was attacked by a strong sense of discomfort.
could not help but to wonder if that really was written in a kind of joke, even by an ego in need of particular attention.
But the question that troubled him now was: Who had written it?
Stephen heard the church door creak.
The first of his students was coming.

(Authors: Sara and Massimiliano Bosi Prandini)

Well now the ball is in you. Sara and I we just put some food on the plate and in person (but I think I can speak to Sara) I have no idea where the story will take us. Do you like the characters we have described? You can use it but also to invent others. Find interesting the cue mysterious man in a raincoat? Fine, but if the story you have in mind is not involved, nothing prevents us during the final editing of the e-book header. You have an idea what it might contain text that restless Stefano? It could be the story of violence, a letter from a suicidal or who knows, maybe for some mysterious reason could narrate an episode of his life of Stephen. Or of course anything else that comes to mind. And who wrote it? The story is specifically structured to leave room for the possibility that it is also one of the students. And finally: Who's coming? It 's really one of the students? Or maybe someone who has nothing to do?
All these things you must tell us. Who wants to contribute to this history has to send a Chapter 24 within hours of January 31 to this e-mail: bookmodena.narrativa @ gmail.com. Of course you can use the same address to ask any additional information or clarification about the project.
Good job!

Tr Crypt.zpack.gen Trojan

Rules of Participation

Each of the three sections of the Open Book Project has as its objective the creation of a short novel, consisting of a prologue (provided by the organization - on this blog - at the beginning of the project), by six or seven chapters and an epilogue possible. Since the publication of the prologue, who is interested in participating will have six days to write a proposal for the first chapter and send it by e-mail to the editor. Among the works received will be a choice, believed to be at the discretion of the organizers for better or literary value for consistency with the narrative line, which will be posted as proseguo. Da quel momento sarà possibile spedire una proposta per un successivo capitolo, e così via fino al termine del progetto (che si concluderà verso la fine di febbraio 2009). Tra un capitolo e il successivo ci saranno circa 4-5 giorni di tempo per inviare un contributo. La data esatta verrà comunque scritta su queste pagine, in fondo a ogni capitolo, insieme al nome (o ai nomi) degli autori di quella parte.
Chi desidera partecipare, per contribuire al progetto Open Book, deve sapere, tenere presente e accettare quanto segue:

1. Chi partecipa accoglie i principi di condivisione e libera diffusione dei contenuti creativi, e acconsente alla pubblicazione della propria opera sotto licenza Creative Commons 2.5 ( http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.5/deed.it ).
2. For the sake of uniformity of the story, allows those who participate in the drafting and editing even more extensive modification of the text sent.
3. The text must be sent via mail (one of these addresses, depending on the genus to which you want to contribute, bookmodena.noir @ gmail.com , bookmodena.fantasy @ gmail.com or bookmodena . narrativa@gmail.com ) as attached in TXT format or RTF. In the body of the email will also contain the following disclaimer:
   "I (nome e cognome), nato il (data) a (luogo), autorizzo la redazione di Book Modena alla eventuale modifica e pubblicazione del testo in allegato, per l'iniziativa Open Book - edizione 2009. Dichiaro di avere preso visione del regolamento e di averlo compreso e accettato."
4. La scadenza per l'invio del testo è indicata di volta in volta in queste pagine.
5. Il testo deve essere compreso tra 3000 e 7000 battute inclusi gli spazi.
6. I testi devono essere in terza persona, al passato e i dialoghi devo essere tra virgolette ("").
7. Verrà inviata una mail di conferma di ricezione del racconto. Questa conferma NON attesta né la conformità di quanto ricevuto, né l'eventuale accettazione del testo per il progetto, ma SOLO la ricezione del mail da parte della redazione.

Implantation Bleeding Tissues And Brown

OPEN BOOK, the book is open

Il 7 e 8 marzo 2009 Modena presenta Book , Fiera della piccola e media editoria (seconda edizione) organizzata, sostenuta e promossa da Infinito edizioni , associazione Progettarte e Comune di Modena .

Un’occasione di incontro tra lettori, editori e autori all’interno di una storica e prestigiosa cornice quale il Foro Boario di Modena. Book mette al centro dell’attenzione il libro come meraviglioso strumento of knowledge and freedom. In the frame of the event, Libraries of the City of Modena in collaboration with XoMeGaP and KULT Underground / KULT Virtual Press have Open Book, an open project to create a 'novel collective '. The initiative is for all lovers of writing and 'culminate' in the presentation of an e-book , freely downloadable from our website ( Area Holden ), during the final meeting of the Book Modena 8 March 2009. They proposed three narrative lines, and everyone can participate by connecting to the following blogs:

• fantasy
• yellow / noir
• narrative not gender

For more information on the event, info: http://bookmodena.blogspot.com/