Mild and useless life. Now. Here. The long march
Friday, October 15, 2010
Cortisone Shots And Throat Infections
I always thought that change is just to keep themselves 
E così ieri ho allacciato gli scarponi, preparato uno zaino leggero, impugnato il mio bastone di betulla. E sono andato. Salire. Sfidare da solo un versante che tante volte ho guardato dal basso. Chissà che vista c'è da lassù. E son salito. Il fiato corto, i muscoli doloranti. Il Vento che ti prende a schiaffi. Un Vento così forte da buttarti a terra, lassù. Ma la vita, signori, la pura vita. Non potete immaginare cosa si vede quando si è così in alto. Se non ci fosse stato il mal tempo, sarei andato ben oltre. Capisco perché The ancients believed that the summits were the dwelling of the gods.
[Prudence made me give up the top of the ridge, but I think it was a wise choice. "Hero" in my vocabulary, rhymes with idiot.]
There is no greater joy than leaving. The main thing is what can enter into a backpack, everything else is superfluous. The only company are essential to our thoughts. Being away from all us closer to ourselves. This is why I love the solitude
the high seas during a trekking and climbing. The newspaper smothers me.
And I need fresh air. And the new road under your feet.
"The things are not important, is our attitude towards them that makes them, "says Professor Nautyal before leaving us," if you look at me kindly and I am your friend if you feel happy, then so are you. "
Cederna Joseph, "The Great Trip"
Photo: Etna East side of white gulls. Wherever boats and canoes and tastes of the sea " Danes, a people has always been a sailor. Lie down on the soft green lawns, under trees, maple or pine or chestnut. O shade of castles that have inspired poets and writers. Helsingør, Mal 
m ö , Roskilde, København. The magic of the places in their spoken language, so evocative, so different. Sweden and Denmark, almost close to kissing. I touched the waters of the Baltic Sea and were cold, yet inviting. I have seen old ships that have crossed keels scraping pebbles beaches. Stories and legends of sailors and warriors, bushy beards, blond hair, pasty beer.
Over time diminishes the desire to return home from a trip. Like a drug, it's never enough. The afternoon before returning to Italy I have smoked tobacco from a pipe Danish new, bought in Copenhagen in a small shop but packed pipe. I christened with its first fire on the banks of a canal town. At last light of day. The serenity of the vibrant and unique moments. A breath. Wonderful
Denmark.
"
There is a race of men that does not fit,
and climb the peaks of the mountains,
their damnation is the gypsy blood 
m ö , Roskilde, København. The magic of the places in their spoken language, so evocative, so different. Sweden and Denmark, almost close to kissing. I touched the waters of the Baltic Sea and were cold, yet inviting. I have seen old ships that have crossed keels scraping pebbles beaches. Stories and legends of sailors and warriors, bushy beards, blond hair, pasty beer. Over time diminishes the desire to return home from a trip. Like a drug, it's never enough. The afternoon before returning to Italy I have smoked tobacco from a pipe Danish new, bought in Copenhagen in a small shop but packed pipe. I christened with its first fire on the banks of a canal town. At last light of day. The serenity of the vibrant and unique moments. A breath. Wonderful
Denmark.
"
There is a race of men that does not fit,
a race that can not stop, so break the hearts of friends and relativeswalk the land and through the rivers
and roam the world at their pleasure.
and climb the peaks of the mountains,
Along the road should be straight away, are strong, loyal and courageous but always be weary of their surroundings
and want to know what is new and strange
"
from" In Cold Blood "Truman Capote with Philip
.
Photo of Captain
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