Every child who comes into the world
subverts the idea that her parents
they were made ...
subverts the idea that her parents
they were made ...
"There once was a father who had a child every night before going to bed he wanted to hear a story from his special book.
The father joined hands outstretched like an open book and appeared on the palms of the words he read stories to her child.
They were all more or less short because they were written only on the palms of your hands. "
The father joined hands outstretched like an open book and appeared on the palms of the words he read stories to her child.
They were all more or less short because they were written only on the palms of your hands. "
"The sheep insomniac"
A sheep could not sleep because he could not mention that herself.
He decided to seek out another sheep, and walk, walk, finally found it.
But two sheep could not count to two and continued to be afraid of the wolf.
Taking great care to look for other sheep came out and met the other two.
But even they were few in four, then continued to search for.
They found four more.
But even eight were few to be able to find sleep. They went out and found eight more.
They were sixteen: a dozen and six units. But they were still few.
They found sixteen other. But even in thirty-two, three tens and two units, were few.
They found other thirty-two, were sixty-four: six tens and four units, but were still few.
They went out again and found other sixty-four. They were one hundred and twenty, a hundred, two tens and eight units.
Began to be a substantial number, but they are still afraid of the wolf.
They went out and found the other one hundred and twenty sheep.
They were two hundred fifty-six: two hundred, five tens and six units.
But they were still few.
They went out and met two hundred fifty-six other sheep.
They were five hundred and twelve, five hundred, ten and two units.
Not yet felt safe and met other five hundred and twelve sheep.
Now they were one thousand, twenty four. A nice number, no doubt about it.
One thousand, two tens and four units.
But they were still afraid of the wolf and could not sleep.
They went out again and met other one thousand, twenty four sheep.
All together they amounted to two thousand, forty-eight: two thousand, four tens and eight units.
But I still did not sleep.
They came out again and finding other two thousand, forty-eight, when they returned were four thousand, ninety-six.
A number of big and fat that a child gets tired to count them all.
Four thousand, nine tens and six units.
But I still wanted to be more.
When they returned they were eight thousand, one hundred ninety-two sheep.
Eight thousand, one hundred, two tens and nine units.
The two units could be heard a few, but the company tens of nine, eight of the hundred of thousands and above all made them safer not to be caught by the wolf.
And finally managed to find sleep.
Children who are afraid of the '"Black Man" or "monsters" that live in their imagination, when they hear this story, feel more confident in the company of all these sheep, and still manage to find their sleep, counting all the sheep that there are around.
A sheep could not sleep because he could not mention that herself.
He decided to seek out another sheep, and walk, walk, finally found it.
But two sheep could not count to two and continued to be afraid of the wolf.
Taking great care to look for other sheep came out and met the other two.
But even they were few in four, then continued to search for.
They found four more.
But even eight were few to be able to find sleep. They went out and found eight more.
They were sixteen: a dozen and six units. But they were still few.
They found sixteen other. But even in thirty-two, three tens and two units, were few.
They found other thirty-two, were sixty-four: six tens and four units, but were still few.
They went out again and found other sixty-four. They were one hundred and twenty, a hundred, two tens and eight units.
Began to be a substantial number, but they are still afraid of the wolf.
They went out and found the other one hundred and twenty sheep.
They were two hundred fifty-six: two hundred, five tens and six units.
But they were still few.
They went out and met two hundred fifty-six other sheep.
They were five hundred and twelve, five hundred, ten and two units.
Not yet felt safe and met other five hundred and twelve sheep.
Now they were one thousand, twenty four. A nice number, no doubt about it.
One thousand, two tens and four units.
But they were still afraid of the wolf and could not sleep.
They went out again and met other one thousand, twenty four sheep.
All together they amounted to two thousand, forty-eight: two thousand, four tens and eight units.
But I still did not sleep.
They came out again and finding other two thousand, forty-eight, when they returned were four thousand, ninety-six.
A number of big and fat that a child gets tired to count them all.
Four thousand, nine tens and six units.
But I still wanted to be more.
When they returned they were eight thousand, one hundred ninety-two sheep.
Eight thousand, one hundred, two tens and nine units.
The two units could be heard a few, but the company tens of nine, eight of the hundred of thousands and above all made them safer not to be caught by the wolf.
And finally managed to find sleep.
Children who are afraid of the '"Black Man" or "monsters" that live in their imagination, when they hear this story, feel more confident in the company of all these sheep, and still manage to find their sleep, counting all the sheep that there are around.
"The king could not sleep"
A king could not sleep a wink, he told his Prime Minister to go to the barn, which was not far from the palace, to say the horse not to snore because he could not sleep.
The Prime Minister went to the Minister of Agriculture and Environment, and told him to go to the stable to say the horse not to snore because the King could not sleep.
The Minister of Agriculture and Environment Minister without Portfolio and went to told him to go to the stable to say the horse did not sleeping snoring because the King
The Minister without Portfolio, who like others did not want to go to the barn, but he went and told the court jester to do what he was told.
The court jester of the left page and told him to stop snoring because the horse to the King was annoyed.
The page went to Butler and told him.
The Butler went to the waiter and told what had been said.
The waiter went to the boy.
They finally crossed the courtyard that was already dawn, and knocked at the house of the groom.
The groom opened the sun rose.
The boy reported that the king could not sleep because his horse was snoring.
The groom went to tell the horse, but when he opened the barn door, saw that it was ajar, and inside there was no horse.
The horse was already out for a while. All night he could not sleep a wink because of the loud snoring of the King
A king could not sleep a wink, he told his Prime Minister to go to the barn, which was not far from the palace, to say the horse not to snore because he could not sleep.
The Prime Minister went to the Minister of Agriculture and Environment, and told him to go to the stable to say the horse not to snore because the King could not sleep.
The Minister of Agriculture and Environment Minister without Portfolio and went to told him to go to the stable to say the horse did not sleeping snoring because the King
The Minister without Portfolio, who like others did not want to go to the barn, but he went and told the court jester to do what he was told.
The court jester of the left page and told him to stop snoring because the horse to the King was annoyed.
The page went to Butler and told him.
The Butler went to the waiter and told what had been said.
The waiter went to the boy.
They finally crossed the courtyard that was already dawn, and knocked at the house of the groom.
The groom opened the sun rose.
The boy reported that the king could not sleep because his horse was snoring.
The groom went to tell the horse, but when he opened the barn door, saw that it was ajar, and inside there was no horse.
The horse was already out for a while. All night he could not sleep a wink because of the loud snoring of the King
"The Seven Lullabies and the Sea"
Seven lullabies were arguing about which of them was more effective for any child at bedtime.
Each sang with vigor their chant, demanding that others appreciate its effectiveness.
But none of them was willing to admit that another was better than his own.
It was now arguing for some time without being able to figure it out.
They wanted to ask a child what he liked to listen to or who preferred to tell his mother, but around them there were people in that situation.
It was evening, almost night and were in the sea.
They were all too taken in the heat of discussion realize of his presence.
It made him hear the sweet sound of its waves. She came forward to small ripples filled with white foam.
They noticed that a guest had to ask for advice and did not take long to do so.
All their ears turned toward him to hear the answer.
He asked them to sing again all their chants, so you can express your opinion on.
The contented and in turn each of them sang their verses on their notes.
The sounds that came out were scattered in front of the immensity of the waves, which followed one another on the delicate side. The melody that sounded the waves towered over the pace and before that calm and smooth pale attempts to chant, whatever.
Night had fallen, finally, lullabies remained only at times of the steps.
What does not stop was the gentle rocking of the sea, which cheered even the moon and the stars from the sky were reflected serene.
Seven lullabies were arguing about which of them was more effective for any child at bedtime.
Each sang with vigor their chant, demanding that others appreciate its effectiveness.
But none of them was willing to admit that another was better than his own.
It was now arguing for some time without being able to figure it out.
They wanted to ask a child what he liked to listen to or who preferred to tell his mother, but around them there were people in that situation.
It was evening, almost night and were in the sea.
They were all too taken in the heat of discussion realize of his presence.
It made him hear the sweet sound of its waves. She came forward to small ripples filled with white foam.
They noticed that a guest had to ask for advice and did not take long to do so.
All their ears turned toward him to hear the answer.
He asked them to sing again all their chants, so you can express your opinion on.
The contented and in turn each of them sang their verses on their notes.
The sounds that came out were scattered in front of the immensity of the waves, which followed one another on the delicate side. The melody that sounded the waves towered over the pace and before that calm and smooth pale attempts to chant, whatever.
Night had fallen, finally, lullabies remained only at times of the steps.
What does not stop was the gentle rocking of the sea, which cheered even the moon and the stars from the sky were reflected serene.
"The greeting between the greetings"
The greetings when they meet who knows how to salute!
Mr. Good morning early bird always well-mannered Mr. Goodnight and hardly meets him, unless there is an eclipse of the sun in broad daylight.
Mr. Good Afternoon often arises the problem of how healthy it is Mr. Good morning, that Mr. Good evening, Mr. Goodnight, but never sees him.
But how many "Hello!" That meet at all hours of the day. The Good-bye, and follow each other in profusion, almost without distinction.
A child is lost in front of all these greetings from the great. He would like to meet only smiling and friendly "Hello", which are meeting with the student's footsteps and do not look at him with disdain from their haughty stares.
Maybe that's why, at the beginning not to scare the other greetings diminish their responsibility to take some fun 'around and change their names.
George Good, Good, Pear, Good Barrel.
The greetings when they meet who knows how to salute!
Mr. Good morning early bird always well-mannered Mr. Goodnight and hardly meets him, unless there is an eclipse of the sun in broad daylight.
Mr. Good Afternoon often arises the problem of how healthy it is Mr. Good morning, that Mr. Good evening, Mr. Goodnight, but never sees him.
But how many "Hello!" That meet at all hours of the day. The Good-bye, and follow each other in profusion, almost without distinction.
A child is lost in front of all these greetings from the great. He would like to meet only smiling and friendly "Hello", which are meeting with the student's footsteps and do not look at him with disdain from their haughty stares.
Maybe that's why, at the beginning not to scare the other greetings diminish their responsibility to take some fun 'around and change their names.
George Good, Good, Pear, Good Barrel.
"Footsteps"
In big cities there are large houses where people live in apartments that overlook each other and where the floors are so thin that they feel even the steps that are above those for walking.
There was an ant in an anthill that the night could not sleep hardly at all and when he always dreamed nightmares in which he was always intent to carry loads on their backs and struggle to find food and to deliver them.
The cause of this malaise was his neighbor who lived in the attic above, that the night was sleepwalking and sleep walking back and forth throughout the apartment.
The ant had been poor because of the large dark circles around the lost sleep and could hardly work.
Fortunately, her friend, seeing more and more tired, one day advised her to give her neighbor a pair of slippers soled soft as cotton.
The next really liked the gift and put it on with pleasure.
The following nights, the poor ant now no longer thought to be able to do sleep, began to catch up on sleep lost and instead of the usual nightmares, he began to dream of rest.
It rested for real.
After a few days, even the dark circles were gone.
In big cities there are large houses where people live in apartments that overlook each other and where the floors are so thin that they feel even the steps that are above those for walking.
There was an ant in an anthill that the night could not sleep hardly at all and when he always dreamed nightmares in which he was always intent to carry loads on their backs and struggle to find food and to deliver them.
The cause of this malaise was his neighbor who lived in the attic above, that the night was sleepwalking and sleep walking back and forth throughout the apartment.
The ant had been poor because of the large dark circles around the lost sleep and could hardly work.
Fortunately, her friend, seeing more and more tired, one day advised her to give her neighbor a pair of slippers soled soft as cotton.
The next really liked the gift and put it on with pleasure.
The following nights, the poor ant now no longer thought to be able to do sleep, began to catch up on sleep lost and instead of the usual nightmares, he began to dream of rest.
It rested for real.
After a few days, even the dark circles were gone.
"The sweet words"
According to the grandfathers and grandmothers older, when they were small, they were around so many words and little words to console them knew when they were sad because they had done some mischief, and parents had scolded them.
It was sweet nothings who said their grandparents, who had realized that the wrong things they had not done on purpose, but had run away from them, almost without realizing it.
If all were born there would be learned the joy of living. You know how boring! Do not mistake any more and there would be more than that smile.
They too had grown up and learned not getting told off more, doing things with the right attention.
Grandparents found themselves in a hurry, without having had time to do their parents.
And those sweet words had been closed too early in the dictionary and he had forgotten to use, with the passage of time more and more hurried.
It was sweet nothings who said their grandparents, who had realized that the wrong things they had not done on purpose, but had run away from them, almost without realizing it.
If all were born there would be learned the joy of living. You know how boring! Do not mistake any more and there would be more than that smile.
They too had grown up and learned not getting told off more, doing things with the right attention.
Grandparents found themselves in a hurry, without having had time to do their parents.
And those sweet words had been closed too early in the dictionary and he had forgotten to use, with the passage of time more and more hurried.
"To pay attention"
Often the lender's attention, he always manages to get it back?
And if I give back, in what condition he was returned?
A child has a desire to learn, knows that to move needs to know his surroundings and is often forced to pay her attention.
But the great trust that the, frequently do not care much of his attention, and when after long and grueling wait, make it to him, is all torn and rumpled and too distracted to understand everything that he would be able to say.
At the end prefer to lend to its toys, at least those are good and firm and when he spoke to seem to listen to him with all the attention he wants, without ever snort of impatience.
Often the lender's attention, he always manages to get it back?
And if I give back, in what condition he was returned?
A child has a desire to learn, knows that to move needs to know his surroundings and is often forced to pay her attention.
But the great trust that the, frequently do not care much of his attention, and when after long and grueling wait, make it to him, is all torn and rumpled and too distracted to understand everything that he would be able to say.
At the end prefer to lend to its toys, at least those are good and firm and when he spoke to seem to listen to him with all the attention he wants, without ever snort of impatience.
"The gentleman who discovered he had a namesake"
A gentleman who had a name and a last name like everyone else, one day he discovered that there was another who had his own name and the same surname.
Worried that he might steal your identity, I tried.
At the end of a long search, he knew where he lived and visited him.
He rang the bell, said a voice asked who he was and heard the same name and surname, invited him to join.
When the door opened, a gentleman who had appeared greater than his age: his hair was white, while he was still just graying them.
They both looked with curiosity, and were called the same way, were not relatives, they had never seen before.
They were born at different times and not at all like it and neither had his name on purpose that way.
But they were happy to have met: they had become friends, friends name and last name.
A gentleman who had a name and a last name like everyone else, one day he discovered that there was another who had his own name and the same surname.
Worried that he might steal your identity, I tried.
At the end of a long search, he knew where he lived and visited him.
He rang the bell, said a voice asked who he was and heard the same name and surname, invited him to join.
When the door opened, a gentleman who had appeared greater than his age: his hair was white, while he was still just graying them.
They both looked with curiosity, and were called the same way, were not relatives, they had never seen before.
They were born at different times and not at all like it and neither had his name on purpose that way.
But they were happy to have met: they had become friends, friends name and last name.
"The Earth and Heaven"
In ancient times, when men believed that the earth was flat, so walking on, even for long distances, they could not see that flat horizon, the sky fascinated them.
By day wonderful for the nuances of color that could express, especially at sunrise or sunset to her.
At night the mystery that showed with all those points of light, beautifully arranged to form figures that, gradually, he learned to interpret.
The land forced them to survive and often had to escape the dangers of engaging up to all their intelligence.
It was a terrible step-mother who fed the creatures that walked on, with loud gasps suddenly swallowing and opening its jaws terrifying.
The sky always gave hope, even after it had been closed for weeks by clouds, rain broke the sadness of the sudden gleams of blue, and all men, even dying ones, had a yearning for the infinite in their troubled lives.
In ancient times, when men believed that the earth was flat, so walking on, even for long distances, they could not see that flat horizon, the sky fascinated them.
By day wonderful for the nuances of color that could express, especially at sunrise or sunset to her.
At night the mystery that showed with all those points of light, beautifully arranged to form figures that, gradually, he learned to interpret.
The land forced them to survive and often had to escape the dangers of engaging up to all their intelligence.
It was a terrible step-mother who fed the creatures that walked on, with loud gasps suddenly swallowing and opening its jaws terrifying.
The sky always gave hope, even after it had been closed for weeks by clouds, rain broke the sadness of the sudden gleams of blue, and all men, even dying ones, had a yearning for the infinite in their troubled lives.
"The little fish out of water"
A small fish living in a transparent vase, filled with fresh water.
His parents had known them: it was born from an egg laid by some kind of mom.
It was all red, but red.
It was all the time in this vessel and swam clear.
Once turned in one direction, once in the opposite direction.
He had little choice and even the non-transparent walls allow him to enjoy plenty of space for its movements.
The food was being put into water and if it was during the same hours every day.
It was enough for him to open his mouth and went into his mouth without making any effort.
He was curious and looked round with his eyes through that wall so transparent, but at the same time so hard that allowed him to expand his monotonous path.
At first he tried to push it, but after a little 'shock, he realized that it would move to get through.
He saw forms that lived around the strange beings and sometimes they passed to his world.
Sometimes it frightened and ran to hide in a corner.
But there were no corners in the vessel stood still and motionless at the center of the pot peering around with his eyes wide, hoping that the creature was frightened at the sight, disappeared.
He learned that there were high walls that held his movements, he had the feeling when he swam near the water's edge and a shiver ran down his back.
He hoped to broaden his horizons in a swimming pool where it was wider.
Only for this one dared to jump over the edge of his world.
But outside there was what he believed was there and he could not go inside.
Skidded on a slippery surface and hard and had a few drops of water around, the forces were about to leave and could only hop, but without being able to do is gasp.
Suddenly, something warm it up quickly and was again immersed in its own pot.
Her eyes looked beyond the back wall, but this time the space in which he was surrounded by did not seem small.
A small fish living in a transparent vase, filled with fresh water.
His parents had known them: it was born from an egg laid by some kind of mom.
It was all red, but red.
It was all the time in this vessel and swam clear.
Once turned in one direction, once in the opposite direction.
He had little choice and even the non-transparent walls allow him to enjoy plenty of space for its movements.
The food was being put into water and if it was during the same hours every day.
It was enough for him to open his mouth and went into his mouth without making any effort.
He was curious and looked round with his eyes through that wall so transparent, but at the same time so hard that allowed him to expand his monotonous path.
At first he tried to push it, but after a little 'shock, he realized that it would move to get through.
He saw forms that lived around the strange beings and sometimes they passed to his world.
Sometimes it frightened and ran to hide in a corner.
But there were no corners in the vessel stood still and motionless at the center of the pot peering around with his eyes wide, hoping that the creature was frightened at the sight, disappeared.
He learned that there were high walls that held his movements, he had the feeling when he swam near the water's edge and a shiver ran down his back.
He hoped to broaden his horizons in a swimming pool where it was wider.
Only for this one dared to jump over the edge of his world.
But outside there was what he believed was there and he could not go inside.
Skidded on a slippery surface and hard and had a few drops of water around, the forces were about to leave and could only hop, but without being able to do is gasp.
Suddenly, something warm it up quickly and was again immersed in its own pot.
Her eyes looked beyond the back wall, but this time the space in which he was surrounded by did not seem small.
"Thanks Grandpa"
There was a grandfather who always said, "Thank you" when someone was kind to him or giving him something.
But he was not alone, beside him a dear friend, Mr. "Please," which followed him closely.
And all the times you said: "Thanks," and he smiled and his friend following reply: "Please!". It was part of good manners that once existed.
In his luggage brought up there so many words what sort off at the right time, when people needed it to repay a kindness they had received.
There was a grandfather who always said, "Thank you" when someone was kind to him or giving him something.
But he was not alone, beside him a dear friend, Mr. "Please," which followed him closely.
And all the times you said: "Thanks," and he smiled and his friend following reply: "Please!". It was part of good manners that once existed.
In his luggage brought up there so many words what sort off at the right time, when people needed it to repay a kindness they had received.
"The man with his head in the clouds"
A gentleman, who in truth was not high, often not knowing where they ended up walking her feet.
He was distracted because her head was always surrounded by thoughts, dense to the point that prevented him from watching what was around.
As the summit of a mountain that does not see its slopes because the clouds linger around.
The boys who had learned to recognize adults distracted, had already noted several times while he found himself in the most paradoxical to have to get the hook because of his distraction and fun to see what new combinations.
More than once, after opening the letter box had arrived on the doorstep and was not able to enter because he had left the keys hanging on display at the lock of the same tape.
Or into the house and left her keys outside the door to anyone who wanted to enter it and if it was not for some his good neighbor warned him, maybe he found himself in the house the thieves.
A gentleman, who in truth was not high, often not knowing where they ended up walking her feet.
He was distracted because her head was always surrounded by thoughts, dense to the point that prevented him from watching what was around.
As the summit of a mountain that does not see its slopes because the clouds linger around.
The boys who had learned to recognize adults distracted, had already noted several times while he found himself in the most paradoxical to have to get the hook because of his distraction and fun to see what new combinations.
More than once, after opening the letter box had arrived on the doorstep and was not able to enter because he had left the keys hanging on display at the lock of the same tape.
Or into the house and left her keys outside the door to anyone who wanted to enter it and if it was not for some his good neighbor warned him, maybe he found himself in the house the thieves.
"The dog that barks a lot"
In the evening, when the sun had long been tucked under the covers and had willingly put to sleep, lulled by the dim starlight, a dog, who probably suffered from loneliness, since the owner closed it out of the gate his home and left him all alone in the garden, began barking noise to a minimum, or just someone, person or animal passing in front of the fence.
And as the hours grew late, plus the constant barking annoyed the neighbors and the master himself.
It is of no worth the constant complaints and accusations that were targeted: undaunted, continued to do what he did best.
In the evening, when the sun had long been tucked under the covers and had willingly put to sleep, lulled by the dim starlight, a dog, who probably suffered from loneliness, since the owner closed it out of the gate his home and left him all alone in the garden, began barking noise to a minimum, or just someone, person or animal passing in front of the fence.
And as the hours grew late, plus the constant barking annoyed the neighbors and the master himself.
It is of no worth the constant complaints and accusations that were targeted: undaunted, continued to do what he did best.
"The pigeon meddler"
The pigeons are known to be very careful about where the bird walk, especially love the large squares filled with tourists willing to feed them.
They also know how to fly and sometimes they do, but almost does not go their birds to be around a lot and walk to the monuments.
To see them up close, with their round eyes at times we walk on and often do not find us even better than their needs, to the point where it becomes apparent the more you dwell the distracted gaze of tourists, instead of complaining about lack of cleanliness where some places are kept.
When they eat, then, are quite funny and often naive, so that the little sparrows, taking advantage of the fact that pigeons are higher and farther from the ground where there's the food thrown by tourists, they can easily take it from him and took him in their nests.
A pigeon, the most curious of his fellows, stood on the ledge and looked at what they did in people and other animals that were there.
He got to see him even closer if it was to eat, since there were other birds pecking crumbs of bread.
With its round eyes staring and approaching small quick steps, attracted by something that looked edible and others are attended to before they came and got caught.
Nearby there was a cat that was hungry and waiting for an opportunity to pounce on a bird, not around because you offered nothing but edible. He was crouching on the ground to avoid being distracted by the birds out.
When the pigeon was close enough, all took to reach his goal, he jumped to grab the cat with its paws, but that, luckily for him, he remembered being bird spread its wings, escaping in the air outlet feline.
He returned to the ledge and preferred to stay there for a while 'to clean the feathers and the feathers that had been allowed to escape.
The pigeons are known to be very careful about where the bird walk, especially love the large squares filled with tourists willing to feed them.
They also know how to fly and sometimes they do, but almost does not go their birds to be around a lot and walk to the monuments.
To see them up close, with their round eyes at times we walk on and often do not find us even better than their needs, to the point where it becomes apparent the more you dwell the distracted gaze of tourists, instead of complaining about lack of cleanliness where some places are kept.
When they eat, then, are quite funny and often naive, so that the little sparrows, taking advantage of the fact that pigeons are higher and farther from the ground where there's the food thrown by tourists, they can easily take it from him and took him in their nests.
A pigeon, the most curious of his fellows, stood on the ledge and looked at what they did in people and other animals that were there.
He got to see him even closer if it was to eat, since there were other birds pecking crumbs of bread.
With its round eyes staring and approaching small quick steps, attracted by something that looked edible and others are attended to before they came and got caught.
Nearby there was a cat that was hungry and waiting for an opportunity to pounce on a bird, not around because you offered nothing but edible. He was crouching on the ground to avoid being distracted by the birds out.
When the pigeon was close enough, all took to reach his goal, he jumped to grab the cat with its paws, but that, luckily for him, he remembered being bird spread its wings, escaping in the air outlet feline.
He returned to the ledge and preferred to stay there for a while 'to clean the feathers and the feathers that had been allowed to escape.
"The writer of fairy tales"
The writer of fairy tales had already written several, but reached the end of the day, was preparing to go to bed to sleep, for it was already night.
But for how he wanted to sleep and was tired and he wants to sleep, he kept turning over in bed, while all the characters of the stories he had written were flashed around and not sleeping.
They all wanted him to go on to write many stories about each of them.
He tried to tell them they returned the next morning because the night brought him to the board and today he had finished his brilliant insights and ideas.
If he continued to write, the stories would not have come good and they would not have been happy to interpret.
But they insisted, did not want to wait out the next day.
At the end the writer got up, went back in front of the desk, and taking pen in hand, began to write on a sheet of white paper.
The words that came out were all sleepy and barely able to express a sense, often screeching conspicuously next to each other.
The characters that were beginning to see a plot in the story, which gradually unfolded on that sheet of paper, not daring to want to be the main performers of the story rather shabby, one by one they went on the sly.
The writer, suddenly stopped him, undecided on which character you choose for him to support the main role. He turned and seeing no one, smiled, put pen to paper, turned off the light and went back to bed, glad to finally sleep.
The writer of fairy tales had already written several, but reached the end of the day, was preparing to go to bed to sleep, for it was already night.
But for how he wanted to sleep and was tired and he wants to sleep, he kept turning over in bed, while all the characters of the stories he had written were flashed around and not sleeping.
They all wanted him to go on to write many stories about each of them.
He tried to tell them they returned the next morning because the night brought him to the board and today he had finished his brilliant insights and ideas.
If he continued to write, the stories would not have come good and they would not have been happy to interpret.
But they insisted, did not want to wait out the next day.
At the end the writer got up, went back in front of the desk, and taking pen in hand, began to write on a sheet of white paper.
The words that came out were all sleepy and barely able to express a sense, often screeching conspicuously next to each other.
The characters that were beginning to see a plot in the story, which gradually unfolded on that sheet of paper, not daring to want to be the main performers of the story rather shabby, one by one they went on the sly.
The writer, suddenly stopped him, undecided on which character you choose for him to support the main role. He turned and seeing no one, smiled, put pen to paper, turned off the light and went back to bed, glad to finally sleep.
"Evening"
When the sun has already gone to sleep and makes us perceive the horizon as soon as the faint glow that increasingly moves away, the sky has lost all its light and our eyes can see beyond.
She discovers an infinite darkness lit only by luminous dots, arranged in time to firm positions.
There are also some nearby planets that revolve around our sun and at the same stars that are often distant, even more than our imagination.
We fail to see them from this planet because they are great, but if we were barely of those stars would see the sun, not Earth, but that is too small.
When the sun has already gone to sleep and makes us perceive the horizon as soon as the faint glow that increasingly moves away, the sky has lost all its light and our eyes can see beyond.
She discovers an infinite darkness lit only by luminous dots, arranged in time to firm positions.
There are also some nearby planets that revolve around our sun and at the same stars that are often distant, even more than our imagination.
We fail to see them from this planet because they are great, but if we were barely of those stars would see the sun, not Earth, but that is too small.
"They dream dreams ever?"
When we sleep in our beds warm blankets on cold winter nights, we let ourselves be led by the hand by the dreams that are meeting our thoughts.
Often we do so many dreams that we are just a few pictures. They fill our nights of colors and lights that brighten the otherwise dark and gloomy hour.
Yet they do not want anything in return, if not the focus of our minds, but only for their short duration.
During the day, but dreams are resting in the dark of the drawers closed, under the cushions of the beds, covered by sheets. Expect that the light of day is put to sleep and is dreaming that all the happy people live in a better world, which is made suitable for all, especially the smaller and helpless, often no one is listening because they have no voice.
When we sleep in our beds warm blankets on cold winter nights, we let ourselves be led by the hand by the dreams that are meeting our thoughts.
Often we do so many dreams that we are just a few pictures. They fill our nights of colors and lights that brighten the otherwise dark and gloomy hour.
Yet they do not want anything in return, if not the focus of our minds, but only for their short duration.
During the day, but dreams are resting in the dark of the drawers closed, under the cushions of the beds, covered by sheets. Expect that the light of day is put to sleep and is dreaming that all the happy people live in a better world, which is made suitable for all, especially the smaller and helpless, often no one is listening because they have no voice.
"The Seed"
Small and often insignificant-looking, a treasure hidden inside that has surrounded the plant, after a lifetime, it generated with sacrifice, giving up part of its substance.
Is also closed for years along with his fellows a lot in the dark and dry, a prisoner of a farmer, which frees him only in exchange for a promise that will bring its fruits to the plant that it will generate.
But first of all must be sown put to sleep in a bed of earth and watered and pampered by the sun and the farmer who frequently deliver the land from all around the weeds weeds and birds who want to steal it.
And when finally the map will be sprouted and made its way into the soil to sprout up on the surface with its tender stem and its leaves to receive the first heat and light, will still need so much care and always nursed the farmer and protect from the cold and rough. Also it will help to grow lush and strong. When he proudly displays its fruit, the farmer will stand more closely to prevent the rob of its treasures.
And when he tired of the weight of past life, bend down his head preparing to release its treasure on earth, the farmer will always nearby, ready to reap the rewards for his services.
The sickle smile that will cut off his head, happy to have borne fruit, and glad of the friendship of his life, which will continue in many other seeds in the loving hands of the farmer.
Small and often insignificant-looking, a treasure hidden inside that has surrounded the plant, after a lifetime, it generated with sacrifice, giving up part of its substance.
Is also closed for years along with his fellows a lot in the dark and dry, a prisoner of a farmer, which frees him only in exchange for a promise that will bring its fruits to the plant that it will generate.
But first of all must be sown put to sleep in a bed of earth and watered and pampered by the sun and the farmer who frequently deliver the land from all around the weeds weeds and birds who want to steal it.
And when finally the map will be sprouted and made its way into the soil to sprout up on the surface with its tender stem and its leaves to receive the first heat and light, will still need so much care and always nursed the farmer and protect from the cold and rough. Also it will help to grow lush and strong. When he proudly displays its fruit, the farmer will stand more closely to prevent the rob of its treasures.
And when he tired of the weight of past life, bend down his head preparing to release its treasure on earth, the farmer will always nearby, ready to reap the rewards for his services.
The sickle smile that will cut off his head, happy to have borne fruit, and glad of the friendship of his life, which will continue in many other seeds in the loving hands of the farmer.
"The Shepherd and the sheep"
You who do you stand the heat in your bed, and sometimes you did not sleep, you have made mention of imaginary sheep jumping a fence, you never imagined you are really in the company of a flock of sheep which are the shepherds?
The shepherd sleeps with his sheep with dogs who help protect them from thieves and predators who would eat it.
Together they share life in the open and spends his nights and days on the lawns around the pasture. The caregiver in exchange for mowing their hair milks and milk, wool and cheese obtaining, selling them can also take care of her.
It is a life of sacrifice that makes wise and moderating the spirit of adapting to the environment in which we live.
You who do you stand the heat in your bed, and sometimes you did not sleep, you have made mention of imaginary sheep jumping a fence, you never imagined you are really in the company of a flock of sheep which are the shepherds?
The shepherd sleeps with his sheep with dogs who help protect them from thieves and predators who would eat it.
Together they share life in the open and spends his nights and days on the lawns around the pasture. The caregiver in exchange for mowing their hair milks and milk, wool and cheese obtaining, selling them can also take care of her.
It is a life of sacrifice that makes wise and moderating the spirit of adapting to the environment in which we live.
"Day and night"
They played hide and seek and catch them beginning of time, never able to catch it.
At dawn the night he disappeared and the day trying not find it.
At sunset on the day in hiding and could not find the night until dawn the next.
What changed during the course of the seasons that followed one another over the years was the length of the night and the day had. At certain times of the day was longer and the other night. But no one could see them walking together at the same time.
They played hide and seek and catch them beginning of time, never able to catch it.
At dawn the night he disappeared and the day trying not find it.
At sunset on the day in hiding and could not find the night until dawn the next.
What changed during the course of the seasons that followed one another over the years was the length of the night and the day had. At certain times of the day was longer and the other night. But no one could see them walking together at the same time.
"The Sorceress Forgetful"
Back when we still believed in witches and witch, a sorceress who was, when he began his magic, he had difficulty combining completed without any mess, as ever did not recall the exact formulas that he had to say.
From magicians and witches co-workers was considered a bit 'blundering and many of them were often had to intervene to resolve dangerous situations at times.
Each time it is recommended that you go over to well the formulas before pronouncing them wrong: with the magic you never know how it ends if you mess up something.
She promised that the next time you would care to brush up the right formula, but when the next time came, he had also forgotten the previous bad experiences of the various promises made and again came to find themselves in trouble because of his forgetfulness .
At that time the children knew that when they found was some strange, forgetful that he was the Wizard some of his magic.
More than once we had seen: as the one that came in the night and all day they woke up because of strong light or that it was night in broad daylight and we had to light the candles to be able to continue doing what he was doing.
Then times have changed: no one is more concerned about the witches and witches and the children have forgotten the Sorceress forgetful.
But be assured that in the corner where the sorceresses and witches have taken refuge in a small corner there too, which continues to combine his usual mess.
If you no longer see it go just because they are all very far from the world we live in today.
Back when we still believed in witches and witch, a sorceress who was, when he began his magic, he had difficulty combining completed without any mess, as ever did not recall the exact formulas that he had to say.
From magicians and witches co-workers was considered a bit 'blundering and many of them were often had to intervene to resolve dangerous situations at times.
Each time it is recommended that you go over to well the formulas before pronouncing them wrong: with the magic you never know how it ends if you mess up something.
She promised that the next time you would care to brush up the right formula, but when the next time came, he had also forgotten the previous bad experiences of the various promises made and again came to find themselves in trouble because of his forgetfulness .
At that time the children knew that when they found was some strange, forgetful that he was the Wizard some of his magic.
More than once we had seen: as the one that came in the night and all day they woke up because of strong light or that it was night in broad daylight and we had to light the candles to be able to continue doing what he was doing.
Then times have changed: no one is more concerned about the witches and witches and the children have forgotten the Sorceress forgetful.
But be assured that in the corner where the sorceresses and witches have taken refuge in a small corner there too, which continues to combine his usual mess.
If you no longer see it go just because they are all very far from the world we live in today.
"The wind"
It crosses oceans and continents, crossing mountains and highlands, moving sand dunes of the deserts and fun to shape it at will.
In the woods and forest creeps whistling among the branches of trees, waving their hair and shaking them to play.
In front of the city is still undecided, seeing that its inhabitants have already run a lot of them. But then passed the first moment of uncertainty and seeing how many corners to leave litter on the ground its inhabitants, enjoys scramble rejecting their waste they throw in the face and forces them to cover his face with his mockery of air and shaking their scarves raised collars and hats and flies.
Sometimes he pauses on a bench to catch his breath in a whisper and caress the most delicate hair of a sleeping baby who smiles in a stroller on a lawn, or a man tired of not being heard, while dressed in his rags are just lying on a cartoon, and how can you cover under the arcades at night.
Wherever you go gives himself and his incessant movement and takes with it something of the places it passes through.
It crosses oceans and continents, crossing mountains and highlands, moving sand dunes of the deserts and fun to shape it at will.
In the woods and forest creeps whistling among the branches of trees, waving their hair and shaking them to play.
In front of the city is still undecided, seeing that its inhabitants have already run a lot of them. But then passed the first moment of uncertainty and seeing how many corners to leave litter on the ground its inhabitants, enjoys scramble rejecting their waste they throw in the face and forces them to cover his face with his mockery of air and shaking their scarves raised collars and hats and flies.
Sometimes he pauses on a bench to catch his breath in a whisper and caress the most delicate hair of a sleeping baby who smiles in a stroller on a lawn, or a man tired of not being heard, while dressed in his rags are just lying on a cartoon, and how can you cover under the arcades at night.
Wherever you go gives himself and his incessant movement and takes with it something of the places it passes through.
"The beard of his grandfather"
Once a child who had the good fortune of having a grandfather that evening before going to bed, telling him stories, he discovered that his grandfather wore a beard that proudly around the face and ran down the long dresses, it was magical.
In fact, when my grandfather began to tell a story, that's sustained by the long hairs of the beard began to spring up the characters he described in words.
Peeking at different points: on the one hand the good, the bad hand, and slowly descended and walked in front of the startled look of a child who watched them from the warmth of his bed.
His grandfather, too busy to read the words of the book, did not feel these people who walked on his clothes and came right up to the bed of the grandchild.
Even for objects that were described by sprouting beard and slid up the bed, but also scenarios in which the stories were set came out of that beard.
The story while it lasted, remained with the characters and emphasized the actions and gestures that made his grandfather described in words.
Then as if by magic, when history was ending, the characters, objects and scenarios that had appeared, one by one gently greeted the child and returned to climb on the clothes and beard of his grandfather, until it disappears in the thick it, just in time to avoid being seen by the same grandfather that a moment later it would close the book.
The grandson, still with his mouth open, looking amazed at the magic bearded grandfather, who, a little 'affected by, thinking that the child was absorbed in his thoughts and had not listened carefully and almost reproached him threatening another evening would be back to read another story, but would delegate this task to the parents.
The grandson, swallowing just wonder, but she begged him to come back tomorrow because the stories told to him taking the contours more realistic and more compelling, perhaps because of the tone that he knew him to take his beard.
The grandfather smiled, gave him a kiss and he went out.
Once a child who had the good fortune of having a grandfather that evening before going to bed, telling him stories, he discovered that his grandfather wore a beard that proudly around the face and ran down the long dresses, it was magical.
In fact, when my grandfather began to tell a story, that's sustained by the long hairs of the beard began to spring up the characters he described in words.
Peeking at different points: on the one hand the good, the bad hand, and slowly descended and walked in front of the startled look of a child who watched them from the warmth of his bed.
His grandfather, too busy to read the words of the book, did not feel these people who walked on his clothes and came right up to the bed of the grandchild.
Even for objects that were described by sprouting beard and slid up the bed, but also scenarios in which the stories were set came out of that beard.
The story while it lasted, remained with the characters and emphasized the actions and gestures that made his grandfather described in words.
Then as if by magic, when history was ending, the characters, objects and scenarios that had appeared, one by one gently greeted the child and returned to climb on the clothes and beard of his grandfather, until it disappears in the thick it, just in time to avoid being seen by the same grandfather that a moment later it would close the book.
The grandson, still with his mouth open, looking amazed at the magic bearded grandfather, who, a little 'affected by, thinking that the child was absorbed in his thoughts and had not listened carefully and almost reproached him threatening another evening would be back to read another story, but would delegate this task to the parents.
The grandson, swallowing just wonder, but she begged him to come back tomorrow because the stories told to him taking the contours more realistic and more compelling, perhaps because of the tone that he knew him to take his beard.
The grandfather smiled, gave him a kiss and he went out.
"The tickly of dreams"
Children dream of the night as we all have dreams and possibly the most cheerful of the great and beautiful, that, instead, you pour all the worries that beset them during the day.
But even children, when they make long dream that would never end, because they enjoy racing there and in on sunny meadows filled with bright colors, they know that there is a man of the world of dreams that the night passes in dreams of all and check how long they last.
If they last too long, then check them, followed by mixing and start making new ones, sometimes less beautiful and more lively, because all the people who have fallen asleep in the evening, must be awakened in the morning, even though they would like to stay longer long in the world of dreams.
This gentleman, whom nobody knows because you see, has the task to tick their dreams too long, you may like too much and make us forget the people who do not live in a dream world, but there you go for short walks, to refresh the mind and spirit, at night and sometimes, even for a short detour in the summer afternoons of long days and warm.
Children dream of the night as we all have dreams and possibly the most cheerful of the great and beautiful, that, instead, you pour all the worries that beset them during the day.
But even children, when they make long dream that would never end, because they enjoy racing there and in on sunny meadows filled with bright colors, they know that there is a man of the world of dreams that the night passes in dreams of all and check how long they last.
If they last too long, then check them, followed by mixing and start making new ones, sometimes less beautiful and more lively, because all the people who have fallen asleep in the evening, must be awakened in the morning, even though they would like to stay longer long in the world of dreams.
This gentleman, whom nobody knows because you see, has the task to tick their dreams too long, you may like too much and make us forget the people who do not live in a dream world, but there you go for short walks, to refresh the mind and spirit, at night and sometimes, even for a short detour in the summer afternoons of long days and warm.
"The gentleman who had lost his voice"
A gentleman who had noticed that he was without a voice, rising from his bed in the morning, tried to look in front of the mirror.
But, by opening his mouth and looking good in his throat, he did not see any words out, even trying to pronounce it.
The words usually saw emerge from his throat, all coated and filled with air and snorting with impatience to get out, they dispersed and mingled in the crisp of the day in a myriad of sounds of all the words spoken by all abandoned in mid-air.
Before falling on deaf ears, the words were the way to be heard by someone, appropinquandosi his ears and along the ducts to the eardrums, which could elicit meanings that were transposed.
But that morning did not leave any right, probably the vocal cords went on strike and had decided to let only the air, even the shadow of words.
That man thinks and thinks and finally remembers.
Please note that the first day, towards evening, he had been to the stadium to see a football game with friends, and taking the heat of the race, had shouted themselves hoarse all the time. But the evening was wet and cold and his throat shamelessly discovery.
This is not to strike, no, a very sore throat, to be treated with adequate and syrups warm scarves.
After a few hours of rest, here is the first timid little words reappear, all hooded and hoarse that, little by little they come out and scatter the sound in air.
The gentleman, happily, almost caressing, and from now on be more careful not to mistreat her voice again.
A gentleman who had noticed that he was without a voice, rising from his bed in the morning, tried to look in front of the mirror.
But, by opening his mouth and looking good in his throat, he did not see any words out, even trying to pronounce it.
The words usually saw emerge from his throat, all coated and filled with air and snorting with impatience to get out, they dispersed and mingled in the crisp of the day in a myriad of sounds of all the words spoken by all abandoned in mid-air.
Before falling on deaf ears, the words were the way to be heard by someone, appropinquandosi his ears and along the ducts to the eardrums, which could elicit meanings that were transposed.
But that morning did not leave any right, probably the vocal cords went on strike and had decided to let only the air, even the shadow of words.
That man thinks and thinks and finally remembers.
Please note that the first day, towards evening, he had been to the stadium to see a football game with friends, and taking the heat of the race, had shouted themselves hoarse all the time. But the evening was wet and cold and his throat shamelessly discovery.
This is not to strike, no, a very sore throat, to be treated with adequate and syrups warm scarves.
After a few hours of rest, here is the first timid little words reappear, all hooded and hoarse that, little by little they come out and scatter the sound in air.
The gentleman, happily, almost caressing, and from now on be more careful not to mistreat her voice again.
"The controller of the objects"
When all is put to sleep, a man in his house began to make sure that all items were in place. He was afraid that if they could not get hurt falling down, perhaps while he slept.
If everything was in order, you could put to bed comfortable.
Deep in the night, awoke from their objects to be simple and fun objects to stretch their legs during the day hiding, walking through the rooms of the house.
But they were careful not to go too close to the bed where he slept on their master, not to risk waking him.
The bed would have liked to stretch his legs, but with all the weight he had on was barely able to move back and forth, being careful not to hit anything.
That slight rocking movement to the sleeper's dreams and made them more realistic.
When all is put to sleep, a man in his house began to make sure that all items were in place. He was afraid that if they could not get hurt falling down, perhaps while he slept.
If everything was in order, you could put to bed comfortable.
Deep in the night, awoke from their objects to be simple and fun objects to stretch their legs during the day hiding, walking through the rooms of the house.
But they were careful not to go too close to the bed where he slept on their master, not to risk waking him.
The bed would have liked to stretch his legs, but with all the weight he had on was barely able to move back and forth, being careful not to hit anything.
That slight rocking movement to the sleeper's dreams and made them more realistic.
"The inventor of the holes in the water"
An inventor, that just did not know how to invent, tried them all just to be able to carry out the invention that would make him rich and famous.
But it was also very lazy and all his efforts had focused on the accessories of sleep.
Thinking that if the bed was comfortable, those who would lie on top would have slept better and more easily, we had made some small changes.
As soon as you lie down on, this began to sway and sing a sweet lullaby.
It seemed that everything went smoothly and already looking forward to finally achieve its objectives, preparing to record his patent.
But at some point, the bed, which was perhaps too comfortable, fell asleep, and instead of rocking up and whoever was singing him a lullaby, she began to snore also, very disturbing those who wanted to sleep.
Disappointed by the bed, she concentrated on the pillow, thinking that a good pillow was better received the head and would have stimulated the desire to dream.
So he has the cushion of a sound system connected with the dreams of the sleeper: Who would have dreamed of hearing his dreams with the Dolby surround stereo sound system, the same that is used in the cinema.
It seemed that everything was going the best.
The person who was lying on the bed, slept well and had started to dream.
The sounds came out soft and enveloping the sleeper in a three-dimensional stereo feeling.
But at some point the rhythm of the dream became faster, the items followed one another more and more strong.
The inventor wanted to lower the volume, but he noticed with dismay that he had forgotten to put the knob.
The volume grew to the point that the sleeper woke up, terrified: he seemed to be really in his nightmare and ran away pursued by the voices and sounds of the dream he was doing, taking the infamous pillow.
The inventor was tired of her holes in the water.
How could love him, could not anyone.
At the end of patented ones, too bad it did not last.
An inventor, that just did not know how to invent, tried them all just to be able to carry out the invention that would make him rich and famous.
But it was also very lazy and all his efforts had focused on the accessories of sleep.
Thinking that if the bed was comfortable, those who would lie on top would have slept better and more easily, we had made some small changes.
As soon as you lie down on, this began to sway and sing a sweet lullaby.
It seemed that everything went smoothly and already looking forward to finally achieve its objectives, preparing to record his patent.
But at some point, the bed, which was perhaps too comfortable, fell asleep, and instead of rocking up and whoever was singing him a lullaby, she began to snore also, very disturbing those who wanted to sleep.
Disappointed by the bed, she concentrated on the pillow, thinking that a good pillow was better received the head and would have stimulated the desire to dream.
So he has the cushion of a sound system connected with the dreams of the sleeper: Who would have dreamed of hearing his dreams with the Dolby surround stereo sound system, the same that is used in the cinema.
It seemed that everything was going the best.
The person who was lying on the bed, slept well and had started to dream.
The sounds came out soft and enveloping the sleeper in a three-dimensional stereo feeling.
But at some point the rhythm of the dream became faster, the items followed one another more and more strong.
The inventor wanted to lower the volume, but he noticed with dismay that he had forgotten to put the knob.
The volume grew to the point that the sleeper woke up, terrified: he seemed to be really in his nightmare and ran away pursued by the voices and sounds of the dream he was doing, taking the infamous pillow.
The inventor was tired of her holes in the water.
How could love him, could not anyone.
At the end of patented ones, too bad it did not last.
"The king who wished to command the sun"
Once a king who had become as a child, had a kingdom so extensive on which it was said the sun never sets. Since it was a bit 'spoiled, he also claims absurd, but no one dreamed of his court to contradict him, or he would lose his head.
One day he had determined that the sun never sets, because he wanted to play for a period longer than one day.
The dignitaries of his court, worried that they could pay in person to the impossibility of achieving this royal whim, think long and finally found a solution.
They proposed to the king to embark on a journey through all his kingdom, accompanied by the sun making.
The king, delighted, went with her gilded carriage, with the following dignitaries and traveled, traveled, so long, without stopping, except to occasionally change the tired horses.
When the day had passed, the sun was still in the sky and the King, realizing that he was tired of that game, finally ordered the sun to set and went to sleep in the most luxurious room of an inn found in the journey.
All the dignitaries breathed a sigh of relief: finally all their running back in the sun had not been in vain.
Once a king who had become as a child, had a kingdom so extensive on which it was said the sun never sets. Since it was a bit 'spoiled, he also claims absurd, but no one dreamed of his court to contradict him, or he would lose his head.
One day he had determined that the sun never sets, because he wanted to play for a period longer than one day.
The dignitaries of his court, worried that they could pay in person to the impossibility of achieving this royal whim, think long and finally found a solution.
They proposed to the king to embark on a journey through all his kingdom, accompanied by the sun making.
The king, delighted, went with her gilded carriage, with the following dignitaries and traveled, traveled, so long, without stopping, except to occasionally change the tired horses.
When the day had passed, the sun was still in the sky and the King, realizing that he was tired of that game, finally ordered the sun to set and went to sleep in the most luxurious room of an inn found in the journey.
All the dignitaries breathed a sigh of relief: finally all their running back in the sun had not been in vain.
"The nail of the Moon"
Some nights to pull up his eyes to the dark sky, you notice a strange halo round and darkness from which emerges a light shaped like a nail.
It is the moon that is hidden in the background that casts shadows on the earth that covers the sun. Only nail remains in the light and tries to reappear in the night to look at us little sparse on this round earth.
After a little 'of nights this nail grows more and more until you reach the point of regaining round and we all lit up and smiles, happy and blessed reappearance of the moon on his face towards our night walk, to illuminate the path.
And since the world is when these planets and have fun playing the circle, all around the star called the sun, this hide and seek continues.
Every time you see the nail, but how many people have seen, there has never scratched anyone.
Some nights to pull up his eyes to the dark sky, you notice a strange halo round and darkness from which emerges a light shaped like a nail.
It is the moon that is hidden in the background that casts shadows on the earth that covers the sun. Only nail remains in the light and tries to reappear in the night to look at us little sparse on this round earth.
After a little 'of nights this nail grows more and more until you reach the point of regaining round and we all lit up and smiles, happy and blessed reappearance of the moon on his face towards our night walk, to illuminate the path.
And since the world is when these planets and have fun playing the circle, all around the star called the sun, this hide and seek continues.
Every time you see the nail, but how many people have seen, there has never scratched anyone.
'You did not say anything the fairy? "
Pinocchio was left dumbfounded in front of the boundless hopes by Candlewick in Toyland. Possible that such a place existed and that no one had appointed him even existed?
It was too intrigued to give credence to his good intentions and promises made earlier, without being groped by a desire to accompany him on this trip and not ask any question at all would suffer the consequences.
But the companies, you know, you must choose them paying close attention to the advice of those who can see farther than the eye where it comes from a naive child, especially if it is still a puppet with the head of hardwood, rather than regret it when your ears are already those of a donkey and not do nothing but bray.
Pinocchio was left dumbfounded in front of the boundless hopes by Candlewick in Toyland. Possible that such a place existed and that no one had appointed him even existed?
It was too intrigued to give credence to his good intentions and promises made earlier, without being groped by a desire to accompany him on this trip and not ask any question at all would suffer the consequences.
But the companies, you know, you must choose them paying close attention to the advice of those who can see farther than the eye where it comes from a naive child, especially if it is still a puppet with the head of hardwood, rather than regret it when your ears are already those of a donkey and not do nothing but bray.
"The Clouds"
White and soft, natural lighting that enhances the muffled forms, by dint of admire the majesty we absorb soft eyes, slender at the top and into the blue.
We would like to jump on them like pillows were huge, filled with so much softness and stay to watch the world from up there and rest.
Lying in the clouds, as happens to any child, even if it likes to keep his head. But how many and what steps we should do to get there?
Perhaps the steps of the birds that we do not walk but fly. And that we should have wings and how would support all the weight we carry inside and behind, with all of our games?
Lying on their beds, children imagine that they are large and comfortable on clouds, which lead them to walk in all their wildest dreams.
And in the morning when you wake up, their beds and pillows and clouds become again around the world again becomes their room, smiling with the sunshine laughing in the morning.
White and soft, natural lighting that enhances the muffled forms, by dint of admire the majesty we absorb soft eyes, slender at the top and into the blue.
We would like to jump on them like pillows were huge, filled with so much softness and stay to watch the world from up there and rest.
Lying in the clouds, as happens to any child, even if it likes to keep his head. But how many and what steps we should do to get there?
Perhaps the steps of the birds that we do not walk but fly. And that we should have wings and how would support all the weight we carry inside and behind, with all of our games?
Lying on their beds, children imagine that they are large and comfortable on clouds, which lead them to walk in all their wildest dreams.
And in the morning when you wake up, their beds and pillows and clouds become again around the world again becomes their room, smiling with the sunshine laughing in the morning.
"Darkness"
In the evening the children are in bed, after the kiss goodnight, prefer falling asleep as soon as possible because they are afraid to stay alone in the dark.
Most are scared and fearful that their mother would remain next to their bed to find more courage.
The darkness is actually a nice guy and would not want to scare anyone. The problem is that nobody loves him closely because you can not understand that he looks.
Nobody can see it and that is why almost everyone is afraid. But he is very unhappy wanders alone at night in places where there is no light. If there was light, he immediately vanish.
The darkness is not evil. Bad can be who takes advantage of his presence to hide and do mischief. Just turn on the light and expose the mischievous type.
Children who are in the beds of their rooms can be reassured: the darkness that comes every night to keep them company is a dear friend who helps them to rest and the next morning at dawn they kiss good morning and if leaves, before they wake up, because he is ashamed to be seen.
When you wake up, say hello and if you're not sure you've heard, putting you to sleep at night, thank you for coming back to the company: the smile, and there will definitely be pleased, even if you can not see, what will make him happy.
In the evening the children are in bed, after the kiss goodnight, prefer falling asleep as soon as possible because they are afraid to stay alone in the dark.
Most are scared and fearful that their mother would remain next to their bed to find more courage.
The darkness is actually a nice guy and would not want to scare anyone. The problem is that nobody loves him closely because you can not understand that he looks.
Nobody can see it and that is why almost everyone is afraid. But he is very unhappy wanders alone at night in places where there is no light. If there was light, he immediately vanish.
The darkness is not evil. Bad can be who takes advantage of his presence to hide and do mischief. Just turn on the light and expose the mischievous type.
Children who are in the beds of their rooms can be reassured: the darkness that comes every night to keep them company is a dear friend who helps them to rest and the next morning at dawn they kiss good morning and if leaves, before they wake up, because he is ashamed to be seen.
When you wake up, say hello and if you're not sure you've heard, putting you to sleep at night, thank you for coming back to the company: the smile, and there will definitely be pleased, even if you can not see, what will make him happy.
"The Charter of ficozzi" (bumps)
If a child banging his head somewhere, and it hurt, just my mother, to soothe concerns that the scare had caused, that was forming on small bumps, put a sheet of special paper, called the "paper of bumps" , for his qualities of healing and be able to absorb the shock to pass that the child felt the pain.
The small bumps, then, could well remain for a while 'time, almost to remember, the little head a bit' reckless, that the danger existed and was kept in mind before venturing into loose games.
But that card soft, thick, yellowish, kept itself far more than just a small bumps: it was the love of the simplicity of things, which flowed with the times themselves, calm and quiet around people and lies to dress the lives and smoothen the bumps.
Today is no longer.
Not because most children do not bump your head, simply because there's no time to stop and tell them a fairy tale and do not want to even look for a pretext.
If a child banging his head somewhere, and it hurt, just my mother, to soothe concerns that the scare had caused, that was forming on small bumps, put a sheet of special paper, called the "paper of bumps" , for his qualities of healing and be able to absorb the shock to pass that the child felt the pain.
The small bumps, then, could well remain for a while 'time, almost to remember, the little head a bit' reckless, that the danger existed and was kept in mind before venturing into loose games.
But that card soft, thick, yellowish, kept itself far more than just a small bumps: it was the love of the simplicity of things, which flowed with the times themselves, calm and quiet around people and lies to dress the lives and smoothen the bumps.
Today is no longer.
Not because most children do not bump your head, simply because there's no time to stop and tell them a fairy tale and do not want to even look for a pretext.
"The best story of all"
It was almost time to go to sleep, the child, already in his pajamas, was putting on under the covers, her mother was coming to tell the story of the evening and give the kiss goodnight. But then, suddenly lit up a dispute between the Fables and Fairy Tales. The first stated that the others were too scary, they were full of bad wolves, orcs, witches and giants who inspired fear in children, instead of sweet dreams, they would have only had terrible nightmares. The latter defended themselves by trusting in the end they would all be happy heartened the frightened children and accused the first to express only optimistic views of life, where there were almost no bad: according to them, so that a child would see only the bright side and would not have learned to face life's challenges.
The child heard all this shouting confused: he wanted to hear only one story, without being much concerned about the implications that it came with.
To him it was good enough. What did he care if there were the big bad wolf, witches, ogres, giants or animals or objects or plants?
Tired of this dispute, and because the mother still did not arrive, the story he wanted to hear if the imagined alone.
There were all bad and the good fairy tales and animals, plants and objects of fairy tales. They were all around a great big tree with hair, holding hands, while the air of serenity flooded with light of a yellow sun to the point of smiling and walking around, singing the sweet melodies that kids listen to the voices their mothers. None of them cared to be preferred by children, each of them was important that there was, and was glad to be there.
The child smiled at this great circle, and was asleep when her mother arrived. Do not read any story, gave him the kiss goodnight and put the two books in the library open on the table near that of the Fables and Tales of.
He thought that they were not served that night and instead had to be read alone and together, in a more beautiful story of all, without malice, and wrongs, and fears without fear, full of only so much serenity, which often is not.
It was almost time to go to sleep, the child, already in his pajamas, was putting on under the covers, her mother was coming to tell the story of the evening and give the kiss goodnight. But then, suddenly lit up a dispute between the Fables and Fairy Tales. The first stated that the others were too scary, they were full of bad wolves, orcs, witches and giants who inspired fear in children, instead of sweet dreams, they would have only had terrible nightmares. The latter defended themselves by trusting in the end they would all be happy heartened the frightened children and accused the first to express only optimistic views of life, where there were almost no bad: according to them, so that a child would see only the bright side and would not have learned to face life's challenges.
The child heard all this shouting confused: he wanted to hear only one story, without being much concerned about the implications that it came with.
To him it was good enough. What did he care if there were the big bad wolf, witches, ogres, giants or animals or objects or plants?
Tired of this dispute, and because the mother still did not arrive, the story he wanted to hear if the imagined alone.
There were all bad and the good fairy tales and animals, plants and objects of fairy tales. They were all around a great big tree with hair, holding hands, while the air of serenity flooded with light of a yellow sun to the point of smiling and walking around, singing the sweet melodies that kids listen to the voices their mothers. None of them cared to be preferred by children, each of them was important that there was, and was glad to be there.
The child smiled at this great circle, and was asleep when her mother arrived. Do not read any story, gave him the kiss goodnight and put the two books in the library open on the table near that of the Fables and Tales of.
He thought that they were not served that night and instead had to be read alone and together, in a more beautiful story of all, without malice, and wrongs, and fears without fear, full of only so much serenity, which often is not.
"The lords lords dreams and nightmares"
When children are as good all day and at night they go to bed early, throughout the course of the night while sleeping dreams are to find the gentlemen, all bright and colorful, take them by the hand and lead them all the most beautiful corners of their worlds.
The children are happy, even while they sleep and if they see a big occasion in those smiles would be infected, to the point that you would like to put himself in their dreams.
But you can not slip into a waking dream! Imagine then that of another!
In the morning when the sun rises, the children wake up refreshed and happy all the trips they have made.
But when the day of pranks and make someone yells at them because they have behaved badly, instead of lords dreams are nightmares to find the gentlemen, all sad and dark that lead them to all corners of their darkest and most frightening worlds.
The children while they sleep almost cry with fear and move in bed, as if to flee.
But how do you escape from a nightmare when you sleep?
And 'only the light of the morning sun that awakens these frightened children and assures them that everything they dreamed it was more frightening than a bad dream, a nightmare indeed.
The mother is waiting for them with the hot breakfast on the kitchen table.
When children are as good all day and at night they go to bed early, throughout the course of the night while sleeping dreams are to find the gentlemen, all bright and colorful, take them by the hand and lead them all the most beautiful corners of their worlds.
The children are happy, even while they sleep and if they see a big occasion in those smiles would be infected, to the point that you would like to put himself in their dreams.
But you can not slip into a waking dream! Imagine then that of another!
In the morning when the sun rises, the children wake up refreshed and happy all the trips they have made.
But when the day of pranks and make someone yells at them because they have behaved badly, instead of lords dreams are nightmares to find the gentlemen, all sad and dark that lead them to all corners of their darkest and most frightening worlds.
The children while they sleep almost cry with fear and move in bed, as if to flee.
But how do you escape from a nightmare when you sleep?
And 'only the light of the morning sun that awakens these frightened children and assures them that everything they dreamed it was more frightening than a bad dream, a nightmare indeed.
The mother is waiting for them with the hot breakfast on the kitchen table.
"The child who did not want to sleep"
The bed was like sleeping, but the child was lying on that one did not want and turned and turned, unable to sleep.
The cushion could not take any more than a head full of crickets jumping everywhere and could not feel a bit 'firm.
Sleep would have liked to be there, but the boy chased him all the time: too many thoughts it stirred movements.
It was a stalemate.
The toys had already fallen asleep, all placed in their slots.
The books and magazines they slept standing up in the small library.
The lamp was turned off and cleared the table with the chair rested from the fatigues of the day.
Noises they heard, except the creaking of the bed where the baby was moving.
Outside it was completely dark, even dozing at night and the hours were too small to stay awake.
She was the mother company to make the child was not sleeping.
She gave him a gentle chamomile and hummed a lullaby that talked about some of the sheep jumping the fence to be counted by the pastor who could not sleep.
The shepherd is asleep, surrounded by his sheep.
The child left to enter sleep, waiting out his thoughts.
And he returned giving him a beautiful dream, full of color and light, feet that were running free in a meadow, a barking dog chasing a kite, high in the sky the sun shone.
The bed was like sleeping, but the child was lying on that one did not want and turned and turned, unable to sleep.
The cushion could not take any more than a head full of crickets jumping everywhere and could not feel a bit 'firm.
Sleep would have liked to be there, but the boy chased him all the time: too many thoughts it stirred movements.
It was a stalemate.
The toys had already fallen asleep, all placed in their slots.
The books and magazines they slept standing up in the small library.
The lamp was turned off and cleared the table with the chair rested from the fatigues of the day.
Noises they heard, except the creaking of the bed where the baby was moving.
Outside it was completely dark, even dozing at night and the hours were too small to stay awake.
She was the mother company to make the child was not sleeping.
She gave him a gentle chamomile and hummed a lullaby that talked about some of the sheep jumping the fence to be counted by the pastor who could not sleep.
The shepherd is asleep, surrounded by his sheep.
The child left to enter sleep, waiting out his thoughts.
And he returned giving him a beautiful dream, full of color and light, feet that were running free in a meadow, a barking dog chasing a kite, high in the sky the sun shone.
"The grandmothers of rocking chairs"
To be lulled and soothed the children who did not want to fall asleep, grandmothers kept in a corner of their houses of special chairs, who could swing.
They were done differently from the others: they did not have the legs straight, but of long standing cross-shaped curved, made for rocking.
And when they sat with a baby in her arms, even if they wanted to sleep, even if he was sleepy, after a while 'to swing, he could not keep my eyes open and he gave himself up in a beautiful dream, filled with both blue and green with yellow peeping out to warm up, but red, brown and purple mica remained outside, they also threw the baby in half and happily, smiling in the arms of her grandmother who rocked in his chair magic.
To be lulled and soothed the children who did not want to fall asleep, grandmothers kept in a corner of their houses of special chairs, who could swing.
They were done differently from the others: they did not have the legs straight, but of long standing cross-shaped curved, made for rocking.
And when they sat with a baby in her arms, even if they wanted to sleep, even if he was sleepy, after a while 'to swing, he could not keep my eyes open and he gave himself up in a beautiful dream, filled with both blue and green with yellow peeping out to warm up, but red, brown and purple mica remained outside, they also threw the baby in half and happily, smiling in the arms of her grandmother who rocked in his chair magic.
"The broom of the sweeper"
Early in the morning, when everyone was still lounging in the beds of their own home and you do not want to get up in the streets of the city are the cousins of the broom job wing of the Epiphany.
Spells are not able to make them as it does that the door in flight to deliver gifts to all children, but with the help of the hands of all the garbage, the streets are transformed back and clear of all waste that will settle over .
It will not be a lot of magic, but it's nice to walk on sidewalks where they do not slip on wet leaves or on paper and cans thrown from naughty to have fun getting dirty.
Early in the morning, when everyone was still lounging in the beds of their own home and you do not want to get up in the streets of the city are the cousins of the broom job wing of the Epiphany.
Spells are not able to make them as it does that the door in flight to deliver gifts to all children, but with the help of the hands of all the garbage, the streets are transformed back and clear of all waste that will settle over .
It will not be a lot of magic, but it's nice to walk on sidewalks where they do not slip on wet leaves or on paper and cans thrown from naughty to have fun getting dirty.
"The measure of Lady Fantasy"
All children, before they become big, think and speak using words and expressions that the large building are unreal and disproportionate.
The big reason is often their only yardstick which measures the world and sees that the only round and when they speak their words boring and gray and sad also the listener wants to hear elsewhere.
Mrs. Fantasia has a meter that fits in what always comes up and is never the same.
If you put a cookie to measure, even if it is shaped like an eight, before turning on itself, can measure the flavor and the child who would like to give a bite to taste it, makes you feel even before they give him the bite, so if he feels that he does not like, do not and will not let him be the route that another child who imagines that already do not like to take more.
Flying elephants do not believe anyone, even if they have large ears, but the Lady Fantasy with his yardstick which measures everything, flies Dad's car, which remained out of fuel, in the midst of a busy road, with all other machines that play because they want to go and remain open-mouthed when they see it rise up in flight and continue his journey without any propulsion.
The world of the future would be sad if it were not for the Lady Fantasy meters, measuring the space for everyone and for everyone who opens a passage to get the imagination, the shortcut to happiness.
All children, before they become big, think and speak using words and expressions that the large building are unreal and disproportionate.
The big reason is often their only yardstick which measures the world and sees that the only round and when they speak their words boring and gray and sad also the listener wants to hear elsewhere.
Mrs. Fantasia has a meter that fits in what always comes up and is never the same.
If you put a cookie to measure, even if it is shaped like an eight, before turning on itself, can measure the flavor and the child who would like to give a bite to taste it, makes you feel even before they give him the bite, so if he feels that he does not like, do not and will not let him be the route that another child who imagines that already do not like to take more.
Flying elephants do not believe anyone, even if they have large ears, but the Lady Fantasy with his yardstick which measures everything, flies Dad's car, which remained out of fuel, in the midst of a busy road, with all other machines that play because they want to go and remain open-mouthed when they see it rise up in flight and continue his journey without any propulsion.
The world of the future would be sad if it were not for the Lady Fantasy meters, measuring the space for everyone and for everyone who opens a passage to get the imagination, the shortcut to happiness.
"Carousel"
Once there was a program that did every night on television.
I saw everyone, absolutely everyone and no one said it was ugly.
Then there were those that measured whether or not liked, as happens with the programs that are today: there was no need.
It was called "Carousel" and contained only advertising, but advertising today have never seen before.
Each product was advertised with a skit. The actors playing those scenes were the best that there were then.
There were cartoons that were advertising.
But no one was annoying and sticky slogans, such as those that broadcast today.
The children saw it all ended when they went to bed: it was the rule.
Then the beautiful fairy tale fun, even knew how to tell the television and no child was sorry or was some discussion.
Once there was a program that did every night on television.
I saw everyone, absolutely everyone and no one said it was ugly.
Then there were those that measured whether or not liked, as happens with the programs that are today: there was no need.
It was called "Carousel" and contained only advertising, but advertising today have never seen before.
Each product was advertised with a skit. The actors playing those scenes were the best that there were then.
There were cartoons that were advertising.
But no one was annoying and sticky slogans, such as those that broadcast today.
The children saw it all ended when they went to bed: it was the rule.
Then the beautiful fairy tale fun, even knew how to tell the television and no child was sorry or was some discussion.
"Children who are amazed"
Children who are surprised when someone tells them something, in their bed and scramble the little thoughts we build dreams that accompany them during their walks along the nights.
Their little minds assemble the fragments, such as construction and manufacturing were colored clouds, rain that tickles laughing, going up to heaven and does somersaults in the head before falling back to people who do not want to let it dry and run off to dive in meadows of tall grass, to hide and not be found.
Sometimes they pull up one foot, to look if there is someone walking around and not seeing him, pull up a hand full of fingers to touch.
But those who pass nearby, his head away and stumbles to wait assuming anything. It does not fall, bouncing on a rubber mattress that plunges into a rolling laugh and pause to reflect in front of a mirror, mirrored by all to be offended, turns, revealing what is behind.
The sudden flash of light, awakening dormant curiosity.
It is the day and his mother raised the damper, awakening her baby.
Children who are surprised when someone tells them something, in their bed and scramble the little thoughts we build dreams that accompany them during their walks along the nights.
Their little minds assemble the fragments, such as construction and manufacturing were colored clouds, rain that tickles laughing, going up to heaven and does somersaults in the head before falling back to people who do not want to let it dry and run off to dive in meadows of tall grass, to hide and not be found.
Sometimes they pull up one foot, to look if there is someone walking around and not seeing him, pull up a hand full of fingers to touch.
But those who pass nearby, his head away and stumbles to wait assuming anything. It does not fall, bouncing on a rubber mattress that plunges into a rolling laugh and pause to reflect in front of a mirror, mirrored by all to be offended, turns, revealing what is behind.
The sudden flash of light, awakening dormant curiosity.
It is the day and his mother raised the damper, awakening her baby.
"The curves of expression"
There are many people who express disappointment in their faces the time that flows above and who likes to trace its flow.
Sometimes I feel sad that imprint themselves in the folds of the skin and there are implied and does not take much for there bullying from emerging.
Other times they are smiling and happy feelings in the same way you leave a trace.
Children who read everything on the faces of people are surprised, seeing that his own is rather smooth and does not allow the time taken and you wonder why.
The answers that they open their mouths to get one big "Oh!" That turns the big smile and that makes all their faces in a big, huge curve that straightens expression, at least for a moment, all their bad days, giving a bit of serenity.
There are many people who express disappointment in their faces the time that flows above and who likes to trace its flow.
Sometimes I feel sad that imprint themselves in the folds of the skin and there are implied and does not take much for there bullying from emerging.
Other times they are smiling and happy feelings in the same way you leave a trace.
Children who read everything on the faces of people are surprised, seeing that his own is rather smooth and does not allow the time taken and you wonder why.
The answers that they open their mouths to get one big "Oh!" That turns the big smile and that makes all their faces in a big, huge curve that straightens expression, at least for a moment, all their bad days, giving a bit of serenity.
"The Sea Pines"
The pine trees are reminiscent of people a lot. Grow strong even in the face of adversity. Their twisted branches defy the fury of the winds, their roots clinging on cliffs. They live struggling against the elements. Grow tall with large trunks and bark carved from adversity, sometimes they are all crooked and deformed.
The leafy branches that have the top, is reminiscent of the hair on his head that we have.
The branches arise almost remind mothers' arms when you put your hands in your hair before the big trouble they can do their small children in the short time that let you do.
The pine trees are reminiscent of people a lot. Grow strong even in the face of adversity. Their twisted branches defy the fury of the winds, their roots clinging on cliffs. They live struggling against the elements. Grow tall with large trunks and bark carved from adversity, sometimes they are all crooked and deformed.
The leafy branches that have the top, is reminiscent of the hair on his head that we have.
The branches arise almost remind mothers' arms when you put your hands in your hair before the big trouble they can do their small children in the short time that let you do.
"The evening news"
Children and not only they, are fed up with the news that we feel, bad enough to tear apart their desire to laugh.
How can they get to sleep afterwards?
They want more sweetness, but journalists who read the news, it seems that only those unable to find sad.
Maybe because it's the world that has become sad.
If children were able to make the world laugh more than the major may languish, perhaps even the journalists would be forced to read news more cheerful.
Instead of despair and stay astonishment, people, after hearing the news, almost start laughing, infected by happiness of the news and everyone should be more willing to sleep.
Even the dreams in reality they would be more serenity and all morning just radiant.
Children and not only they, are fed up with the news that we feel, bad enough to tear apart their desire to laugh.
How can they get to sleep afterwards?
They want more sweetness, but journalists who read the news, it seems that only those unable to find sad.
Maybe because it's the world that has become sad.
If children were able to make the world laugh more than the major may languish, perhaps even the journalists would be forced to read news more cheerful.
Instead of despair and stay astonishment, people, after hearing the news, almost start laughing, infected by happiness of the news and everyone should be more willing to sleep.
Even the dreams in reality they would be more serenity and all morning just radiant.
"People who are awake at night"
The night the children sleep in their beds and go for a walk in their dreams.
Their parents are sleeping too, but the dreams in which they find themselves sometimes are less serene.
While all of these people sleep, there are others that are cute and they move on roads or in cities. Some of these are fun, others work. This story is dedicated to them.
I'm not happy to stay awake all night while others are resting.
If the sky is clear and uncluttered by the soft blanket of clouds and clear nights you can see the whole sky dotted with stars.
It is they who keep company with people who have to stay awake, up the path with their little lights that look like lots of little candles, some closer, others farther away.
Some nights he joins the moon, but can not stay always on the move. Every night a different show off a slice, it is some whole, others do not show at all.
People who raise their eyes to just not feel alone, the company of all those tiny points of light before the darkness of the night to cheer him up.
The night the children sleep in their beds and go for a walk in their dreams.
Their parents are sleeping too, but the dreams in which they find themselves sometimes are less serene.
While all of these people sleep, there are others that are cute and they move on roads or in cities. Some of these are fun, others work. This story is dedicated to them.
I'm not happy to stay awake all night while others are resting.
If the sky is clear and uncluttered by the soft blanket of clouds and clear nights you can see the whole sky dotted with stars.
It is they who keep company with people who have to stay awake, up the path with their little lights that look like lots of little candles, some closer, others farther away.
Some nights he joins the moon, but can not stay always on the move. Every night a different show off a slice, it is some whole, others do not show at all.
People who raise their eyes to just not feel alone, the company of all those tiny points of light before the darkness of the night to cheer him up.
"Carillon"
When you pull its string, it sets in motion a mechanism that generates the sweet sound of a melody, which marks the notes with a regular rhythm.
The music that comes out is always the same and every inch of the string, which slowly falls inside, a note will be donated to the ears of the listener.
If no one pulls the string, he does not say anything, much less goes off, unless somebody knocks him over. But those few are stolen so the notes come out all ugly and could be the last, if the internal mechanism jams or breaks.
Inside contains something old that deserves to be transmitted to children.
They fall asleep to the sound of those happy notes.
Dreams are beautiful.
When you pull its string, it sets in motion a mechanism that generates the sweet sound of a melody, which marks the notes with a regular rhythm.
The music that comes out is always the same and every inch of the string, which slowly falls inside, a note will be donated to the ears of the listener.
If no one pulls the string, he does not say anything, much less goes off, unless somebody knocks him over. But those few are stolen so the notes come out all ugly and could be the last, if the internal mechanism jams or breaks.
Inside contains something old that deserves to be transmitted to children.
They fall asleep to the sound of those happy notes.
Dreams are beautiful.
"The Punctuation"
A child who speaks does not know anything about the breaks you have to do speeches and empty all the contents of what he feels you want to say, no matter if it pulls out all the words, and all together, overwhelm the listener, to the point that can not even hear the most.
Still do not understand that sometimes has to stop to catch my breath and give time to those around him, to let all the words spoken so far, one by one, in the ears, otherwise we do not understand anything.
A great, then, when a child speaks, the listener is often not even with all due respect, he feels great and think that everything the child wants to say, he knows it already and it is almost useless to listen.
But perhaps you have forgotten the feelings that the child wants to communicate: it is true that there are things he has already lived, but when? Decades ago! And still believe to remember everything?!
When the child explains the writing, begins to imitate the letters and, slowly, putting a lot of good will, you learn how to write, even mounting them together to build words.
But commas, semicolons, periods, exclamation points and question marks about what are they for?
The character's words to him while the child says and writes when it is clear that they are written from a child: with all legs and arms that stretch, the reader will embrace, grasp it firmly and if they drag the weight up last syllable in writing, clearly expressing their ideas, without taking any break, or procrastinate on pointless indecision.
The child is in a hurry to put down the pen and return to running after her imagination.
A child who speaks does not know anything about the breaks you have to do speeches and empty all the contents of what he feels you want to say, no matter if it pulls out all the words, and all together, overwhelm the listener, to the point that can not even hear the most.
Still do not understand that sometimes has to stop to catch my breath and give time to those around him, to let all the words spoken so far, one by one, in the ears, otherwise we do not understand anything.
A great, then, when a child speaks, the listener is often not even with all due respect, he feels great and think that everything the child wants to say, he knows it already and it is almost useless to listen.
But perhaps you have forgotten the feelings that the child wants to communicate: it is true that there are things he has already lived, but when? Decades ago! And still believe to remember everything?!
When the child explains the writing, begins to imitate the letters and, slowly, putting a lot of good will, you learn how to write, even mounting them together to build words.
But commas, semicolons, periods, exclamation points and question marks about what are they for?
The character's words to him while the child says and writes when it is clear that they are written from a child: with all legs and arms that stretch, the reader will embrace, grasp it firmly and if they drag the weight up last syllable in writing, clearly expressing their ideas, without taking any break, or procrastinate on pointless indecision.
The child is in a hurry to put down the pen and return to running after her imagination.
"The wise old men"
They sit perched on top of high mountains, away from the noise and by the lure of television programs and commercials that radiate a fee.
Children are inundated and overwhelmed, full of gadgets right into their bedrooms. Are almost even more freedom to dream heroes invented by their imagination, to be chained toys intrusive.
The wise old men want to talk. Their words are as free as the birds flying in the sky, no masters that measure the trajectories and require objectives to be achieved.
The wise old men have recorded their words on the stones, because rolling from the mountains to reach children and the teachings handed down in their hearts.
The children saw the stones, I have read the engravings carved in depth, even if many years have passed since then, but it does not matter if the wise old men, perhaps no longer on the inaccessible mountains, their message has reached the depths of 'minds of children and the thud that made you was strong.
They sit perched on top of high mountains, away from the noise and by the lure of television programs and commercials that radiate a fee.
Children are inundated and overwhelmed, full of gadgets right into their bedrooms. Are almost even more freedom to dream heroes invented by their imagination, to be chained toys intrusive.
The wise old men want to talk. Their words are as free as the birds flying in the sky, no masters that measure the trajectories and require objectives to be achieved.
The wise old men have recorded their words on the stones, because rolling from the mountains to reach children and the teachings handed down in their hearts.
The children saw the stones, I have read the engravings carved in depth, even if many years have passed since then, but it does not matter if the wise old men, perhaps no longer on the inaccessible mountains, their message has reached the depths of 'minds of children and the thud that made you was strong.
"The Z for Zorro"
Once there was a riot in the spelling book, when Z was in rebellion against the last letter of his condition.
Went on strike in protest and went all the words in your vocabulary.
Not only those beginning with z, but also from those contained in the half.
So they disappeared from the vocabulary words zeta, hoe, paw, paws, sapphire, chock, boor, zuzzurullone.
What remained of the words he tried to slip into other sections of the vocabulary, but not all the words of the orphan z direction and continued to have found themselves with a sheet on which to stand and no one that the more pronounced.
The vocabulary was found ready-thin before they could realize.
And all the other points, they realized how important it was Z, without which we could not stay long without ending up with a few words to say.
The situation had become untenable and Z had rebelled in all vocabularies where it was present.
In those languages you could not write or speak.
A writer who had a heart problem and could not continue doing what he loved, he knew that at the bottom of the Z was right and began to write a novel in which this letter had the main role.
The novel was titled "Zorro" and the letter Z emblazoned in the center of the cover.
The Z really liked this tribute and thanked the writer enough to suspend any form of struggle.
All the letters Z returned to their places at all the words and vocabularies of all languages again became complete in all their phonemes.
The Z knew that his position was not important in the vocabulary: what mattered was the esteem in which he was held by all the other letters of the alphabets of different languages.
Once there was a riot in the spelling book, when Z was in rebellion against the last letter of his condition.
Went on strike in protest and went all the words in your vocabulary.
Not only those beginning with z, but also from those contained in the half.
So they disappeared from the vocabulary words zeta, hoe, paw, paws, sapphire, chock, boor, zuzzurullone.
What remained of the words he tried to slip into other sections of the vocabulary, but not all the words of the orphan z direction and continued to have found themselves with a sheet on which to stand and no one that the more pronounced.
The vocabulary was found ready-thin before they could realize.
And all the other points, they realized how important it was Z, without which we could not stay long without ending up with a few words to say.
The situation had become untenable and Z had rebelled in all vocabularies where it was present.
In those languages you could not write or speak.
A writer who had a heart problem and could not continue doing what he loved, he knew that at the bottom of the Z was right and began to write a novel in which this letter had the main role.
The novel was titled "Zorro" and the letter Z emblazoned in the center of the cover.
The Z really liked this tribute and thanked the writer enough to suspend any form of struggle.
All the letters Z returned to their places at all the words and vocabularies of all languages again became complete in all their phonemes.
The Z knew that his position was not important in the vocabulary: what mattered was the esteem in which he was held by all the other letters of the alphabets of different languages.
"The villains of fairy tales"
The big bad wolf of fairy tales was tired of being locked inside the stories that always ended badly for him. He was tired of the role that was to play one day without saying anything and went away.
The children who listened to the tales they told their mothers or grandparents before going to bed early if they did not. But when the stories went on, he felt that something was missing.
Little Red Riding Hood, for example, could stay in the woods all the time who wanted nothing could happen without the bad. The children were bored to feel that continued to collect everything he wanted without having met no wolf.
It was not only the wolf who was fed up. Even witches, ogres, wicked stepmothers, and all went away.
Fairy tales do not say anything more fun and the kids were not ashamed to listen.
Hansel and Gretel had become obese by dint of eating the gingerbread house and could no longer take a single step, to find treasures and return home to even talk about it.
Snow White was still in service in the house of the Seven Dwarfs who do not even conceded a day off and had to tidy up every day.
Cinderella had stopped to rub the dirt and the house had flooded to the point that no emissary of the Prince would have dared to come looking for her.
Sleeping Beauty had put on a fashion atelier and its leaders had invaded the kingdom of his father, obsessed with his subjects to the point of pushing them to emigrate to other realms not suffocated by fashion.
But even the bad guys do not fared well.
Once in the real world, they soon learned that the bad guys who had found they were much more than just chose to go after them and their place in fairy tales.
The big bad wolf of fairy tales was tired of being locked inside the stories that always ended badly for him. He was tired of the role that was to play one day without saying anything and went away.
The children who listened to the tales they told their mothers or grandparents before going to bed early if they did not. But when the stories went on, he felt that something was missing.
Little Red Riding Hood, for example, could stay in the woods all the time who wanted nothing could happen without the bad. The children were bored to feel that continued to collect everything he wanted without having met no wolf.
It was not only the wolf who was fed up. Even witches, ogres, wicked stepmothers, and all went away.
Fairy tales do not say anything more fun and the kids were not ashamed to listen.
Hansel and Gretel had become obese by dint of eating the gingerbread house and could no longer take a single step, to find treasures and return home to even talk about it.
Snow White was still in service in the house of the Seven Dwarfs who do not even conceded a day off and had to tidy up every day.
Cinderella had stopped to rub the dirt and the house had flooded to the point that no emissary of the Prince would have dared to come looking for her.
Sleeping Beauty had put on a fashion atelier and its leaders had invaded the kingdom of his father, obsessed with his subjects to the point of pushing them to emigrate to other realms not suffocated by fashion.
But even the bad guys do not fared well.
Once in the real world, they soon learned that the bad guys who had found they were much more than just chose to go after them and their place in fairy tales.
"The dream of numbers"
Once a child going to school and did not like math, on a task that was done without having understood anything, she votes for a big round zero. Furthermore, the teacher scolded him because it did not apply.
The child went home very sad, but the family did not care.
He felt a scratch.
In the evening went to sleep as a sorry day had gone.
He dreamed a lot that night.
A very long dream.
He was in a strange city, residents were numbers one, two, three, four digits, and so on. Met on the street alone units, tens, hundreds, thousands, etc..
They walked, ran, ran by bike and some even took the bus. But everyone did their operations.
Did nothing.
Every time you put into the column, commanded by the signs of operations. And woe to them if they were wrong results: the same became all red, but red lights turned on and started to scream, which ran all the numbers to find the right one for the result to come.
The street was full of signs that the numbers expected.
The child was confused by all this fussing in this city so strange.
Some numbers had tried to question them, but they had heard.
Then he was reproached by a transaction unless he wanted to do: he asked what number it was. The child who knew he was not a number, was about to tell, but then he remembered the vow he had taken and said that it was a zero.
The subtraction happily cried aloud, aimed to equal that time he was trying desperately was a zero and could not find it across the city full of numbers, which had found him!
Once said to him: "What are you waiting to get in the column?" "Come on! Hurry! So we finish the task! "
He felt that it did not matter, he had the feeling those numbers count for that without him they could not finish their task.
When he awoke in the morning, you feel more heartened by the beautiful dream he had and went to school.
The task he had that morning, the numbers were no longer strangers and the results were not so difficult to find.
The teacher gave him a round eight great with a round face and smiling.
Once a child going to school and did not like math, on a task that was done without having understood anything, she votes for a big round zero. Furthermore, the teacher scolded him because it did not apply.
The child went home very sad, but the family did not care.
He felt a scratch.
In the evening went to sleep as a sorry day had gone.
He dreamed a lot that night.
A very long dream.
They walked, ran, ran by bike and some even took the bus. But everyone did their operations.
Did nothing.
Every time you put into the column, commanded by the signs of operations. And woe to them if they were wrong results: the same became all red, but red lights turned on and started to scream, which ran all the numbers to find the right one for the result to come.
The street was full of signs that the numbers expected.
The child was confused by all this fussing in this city so strange.
Some numbers had tried to question them, but they had heard.
Then he was reproached by a transaction unless he wanted to do: he asked what number it was. The child who knew he was not a number, was about to tell, but then he remembered the vow he had taken and said that it was a zero.
The subtraction happily cried aloud, aimed to equal that time he was trying desperately was a zero and could not find it across the city full of numbers, which had found him!
Once said to him: "What are you waiting to get in the column?" "Come on! Hurry! So we finish the task! "
He felt that it did not matter, he had the feeling those numbers count for that without him they could not finish their task.
When he awoke in the morning, you feel more heartened by the beautiful dream he had and went to school.
The task he had that morning, the numbers were no longer strangers and the results were not so difficult to find.
The teacher gave him a round eight great with a round face and smiling.
"The Caterpillar and the Butterfly"
A caterpillar was always hungry and ate all the time. To remain undetected by predators who sought him out for a delicious morsel eat not linger too much with the same leaves, but after having browsed for quite well with its bites and failing to fill large holes and round, moved to other branches and began to graze with the same equal voracity.
He ate so much growing up before our eyes. But he did not know the reason for this incredible appetite: no one had explained and did not even know who could ask for explanation.
A day that had become so big that almost could no longer walk with his legs, he found a place to rest.
He liked it enough to begin to build a good sleeping bag around all over his body of the caterpillar. He was not happy until it ran for hours and continued to weave this sleeping bag weaving threads together to form a durable fabric-shaped cocoon.
She was just out of my head and still continued to weave with tireless vigor.
Finally it was off any part of his body.
The cocoon remained motionless for days and days and the caterpillar did not had more news.
One day, suddenly, they started to move something inside the cocoon and break up the casing reached a low point and then saw that pushed out, as if to leave.
It was not the caterpillar, which had so much patience with fabric, no, it was someone else who tried to break free, but still you could not hear what it was.
After much insistence, finally came out and ruled with long slim legs, waiting for his body wet to dry.
He was just born and spending time in the sun was showing the magnificence of the new being, with beautiful and colorful wings stretched out, as they dried.
It was a butterfly, elegant and light.
Finally he began to move his wings: the opening and closing, as if to understand how this new body was to animate, so slim and far from the clumsy and fat caterpillar only able to eat and to drag, almost crawling.
He flew in the warm spring air, ready to suck the nectar of flowers.
But it would not have denied their own origins, because the coherence of the first butterfly is learning to live as a caterpillar.
A caterpillar was always hungry and ate all the time. To remain undetected by predators who sought him out for a delicious morsel eat not linger too much with the same leaves, but after having browsed for quite well with its bites and failing to fill large holes and round, moved to other branches and began to graze with the same equal voracity.
He ate so much growing up before our eyes. But he did not know the reason for this incredible appetite: no one had explained and did not even know who could ask for explanation.
A day that had become so big that almost could no longer walk with his legs, he found a place to rest.
He liked it enough to begin to build a good sleeping bag around all over his body of the caterpillar. He was not happy until it ran for hours and continued to weave this sleeping bag weaving threads together to form a durable fabric-shaped cocoon.
She was just out of my head and still continued to weave with tireless vigor.
Finally it was off any part of his body.
The cocoon remained motionless for days and days and the caterpillar did not had more news.
One day, suddenly, they started to move something inside the cocoon and break up the casing reached a low point and then saw that pushed out, as if to leave.
It was not the caterpillar, which had so much patience with fabric, no, it was someone else who tried to break free, but still you could not hear what it was.
After much insistence, finally came out and ruled with long slim legs, waiting for his body wet to dry.
He was just born and spending time in the sun was showing the magnificence of the new being, with beautiful and colorful wings stretched out, as they dried.
It was a butterfly, elegant and light.
Finally he began to move his wings: the opening and closing, as if to understand how this new body was to animate, so slim and far from the clumsy and fat caterpillar only able to eat and to drag, almost crawling.
He flew in the warm spring air, ready to suck the nectar of flowers.
But it would not have denied their own origins, because the coherence of the first butterfly is learning to live as a caterpillar.
"The hippo with a cough"
The bored kid to watch documentaries on television, was tired of seeing hunting scenes in which the predators and the poor hunted herbivores were caught and eaten a bite.
The phrase that was always said was: "This is the law of the jungle!"
The boy thought: "But these poor animals do not enjoy that?"
Then he began to imagine a scene a little 'different from those that were shown.
In a puddle in the middle of the savannah, there was a hippo in, all happy to take a bath.
So far nothing strange: all the hippos love to be immersed in the water of the ponds, even the most mud.
But this hippo at some point began to cough and cough so hard that the muddy water of the pond rose in thunderous splashes that reached all the animals that were in the vicinity.
As long as elephants or rhinoceroses were shot up there was no problem, but the flamingos were not happy of being splashed with mud on their beautiful plumage.
Not to mention the lions and lionesses were about to drive somewhere or some wildebeest and zebra that instead they were filled with mud, eyes and nose.
The bored kid to watch documentaries on television, was tired of seeing hunting scenes in which the predators and the poor hunted herbivores were caught and eaten a bite.
The phrase that was always said was: "This is the law of the jungle!"
The boy thought: "But these poor animals do not enjoy that?"
Then he began to imagine a scene a little 'different from those that were shown.
In a puddle in the middle of the savannah, there was a hippo in, all happy to take a bath.
So far nothing strange: all the hippos love to be immersed in the water of the ponds, even the most mud.
But this hippo at some point began to cough and cough so hard that the muddy water of the pond rose in thunderous splashes that reached all the animals that were in the vicinity.
As long as elephants or rhinoceroses were shot up there was no problem, but the flamingos were not happy of being splashed with mud on their beautiful plumage.
Not to mention the lions and lionesses were about to drive somewhere or some wildebeest and zebra that instead they were filled with mud, eyes and nose.
"If the word has lost its sleep in his sleep"
If the verb sleep lost his sleep by the verb should wake up and say if he had wanted to go for a walk to relax and search for it.
But the verb is a verb wake up in the morning when you wake up and the night does not go around, because almost everyone is asleep in their beds.
The verb is a verb of sleep at night, when you sleep, even for just the warm summer afternoons.
But how can I get to walk hand in hand?
There is only one way.
If a child takes both hands: one on one side and the other one.
But none of them has to give too much arm, or as happens to those two children.
The first one is left to take the arm from the verb to sleep and he's just sleeping, almost always accompanied by sleep and wake up to the verb left him only the little finger, ah want to call, what the poor thing does not feel right.
The second, however, gave his arm to the verb awake all day and is awake at night and often does not want to go to sleep. The verb sleep, in fact, has just left of the little finger nail. And when he hears it?
If the verb sleep lost his sleep by the verb should wake up and say if he had wanted to go for a walk to relax and search for it.
But the verb is a verb wake up in the morning when you wake up and the night does not go around, because almost everyone is asleep in their beds.
The verb is a verb of sleep at night, when you sleep, even for just the warm summer afternoons.
But how can I get to walk hand in hand?
There is only one way.
If a child takes both hands: one on one side and the other one.
But none of them has to give too much arm, or as happens to those two children.
The first one is left to take the arm from the verb to sleep and he's just sleeping, almost always accompanied by sleep and wake up to the verb left him only the little finger, ah want to call, what the poor thing does not feel right.
The second, however, gave his arm to the verb awake all day and is awake at night and often does not want to go to sleep. The verb sleep, in fact, has just left of the little finger nail. And when he hears it?
"If there was no effort"
The night when you put to bed shortly after you fall asleep because you feel tired and want to restore the rest, the fatigue of the limbs.
If it were not for the effort, there probably will not grow weary and would not feel the need to rest.
But you do not even try to reach the taste of the results.
A child has learned to take its first steps hand in hand with the effort but not only in walking, even in playing, studying, in going by bike.
Every child has learned all that he has learned better, just because he struggled.
If he had not had the trouble at his side, probably would not have enjoyed that to achieve the results it has achieved, even smaller ones.
It may seem strange, but a life without effort is not satisfactory. It would be like being on top of a mountain without knowing how you did to get there, even the scene would be dull and flat like that of all days.
The flavor of the effort that you live to get a result is in looking back and appreciate the obstacles that you have been able to overcome to get to the point where you are.
The night when you put to bed shortly after you fall asleep because you feel tired and want to restore the rest, the fatigue of the limbs.
If it were not for the effort, there probably will not grow weary and would not feel the need to rest.
But you do not even try to reach the taste of the results.
A child has learned to take its first steps hand in hand with the effort but not only in walking, even in playing, studying, in going by bike.
Every child has learned all that he has learned better, just because he struggled.
If he had not had the trouble at his side, probably would not have enjoyed that to achieve the results it has achieved, even smaller ones.
It may seem strange, but a life without effort is not satisfactory. It would be like being on top of a mountain without knowing how you did to get there, even the scene would be dull and flat like that of all days.
The flavor of the effort that you live to get a result is in looking back and appreciate the obstacles that you have been able to overcome to get to the point where you are.
"The steps of a lord'
A man often walked on the sidewalks to the sides of city streets.
In walking, however, pay attention to where he was going to not only not to step on the droppings of dogs brought by their owners to defecate freely around their needs, as it usually gets a little 'when you go all around; No! He was careful not to crush other beings, much smaller than he, who had the misfortune to cross right under his feet and in danger of being overwhelmed.
He always looked down before him, trying to see any movement that did track or sense the presence of some small to be on the route that was about to go.
To this gentleman, from the very beginning than the smallest beings that as he had a right to live their lives.
A man often walked on the sidewalks to the sides of city streets.
In walking, however, pay attention to where he was going to not only not to step on the droppings of dogs brought by their owners to defecate freely around their needs, as it usually gets a little 'when you go all around; No! He was careful not to crush other beings, much smaller than he, who had the misfortune to cross right under his feet and in danger of being overwhelmed.
He always looked down before him, trying to see any movement that did track or sense the presence of some small to be on the route that was about to go.
To this gentleman, from the very beginning than the smallest beings that as he had a right to live their lives.
"The city of numbers"
It consists only of numbers, of all sizes.
One and two digits, up to an unknown number of digits.
The skyscrapers are tall and there are constantly new, growing high above the heads of all other houses made of numbers.
There are large and bigger and bigger.
Governs all the greatest of all the numbers and obedient, but nobody knows who he is. Every day you think you have found, but the next day he has a big one and the next day comes another even larger, to the point where that place is vacant and all are governed by the laws of mathematics, which takes in order with its rules throughout the city.
It consists only of numbers, of all sizes.
One and two digits, up to an unknown number of digits.
The skyscrapers are tall and there are constantly new, growing high above the heads of all other houses made of numbers.
There are large and bigger and bigger.
Governs all the greatest of all the numbers and obedient, but nobody knows who he is. Every day you think you have found, but the next day he has a big one and the next day comes another even larger, to the point where that place is vacant and all are governed by the laws of mathematics, which takes in order with its rules throughout the city.
"To look good words"
When we talk, we often use the same words, that, poor things, by dint of saying, wear and creased, so that in sentences where we want to put in force, most have nothing to do and they are all wrinkled and a little 'crumpled.
People who listen to us, get tired of it: it seems that we continue to say the same thing.
These words, spoken of being tired, they would like at least for a little rest quietly in their little place in the vocabulary, in the midst of all their meanings, instead of being placed in the middle, even out of turn.
Browse more often and if that great book that contains them all, we could pull out words almost forgotten, which are always more pronounced mute because nobody, sad and sick with melancholy, with the bags ready to be evicted from their place from one day to 'else.
When we talk, we often use the same words, that, poor things, by dint of saying, wear and creased, so that in sentences where we want to put in force, most have nothing to do and they are all wrinkled and a little 'crumpled.
People who listen to us, get tired of it: it seems that we continue to say the same thing.
These words, spoken of being tired, they would like at least for a little rest quietly in their little place in the vocabulary, in the midst of all their meanings, instead of being placed in the middle, even out of turn.
Browse more often and if that great book that contains them all, we could pull out words almost forgotten, which are always more pronounced mute because nobody, sad and sick with melancholy, with the bags ready to be evicted from their place from one day to 'else.
"Who is different?"
Originally the men were all the same color. Color of mud, from which they were mixed.
But when they started to spread in different environments, changed the color of their skin to adapt to different climates.
Today there are so many races, but inwardly they are all equal, even though they speak different languages and words seem not to understand.
A little 'as children who would always be right, there is always someone who claims to have the color better than everyone else. But it's just who wants to raise its voice, because after all he is afraid even of his own shadow and thinks that behaving in this way nobody will notice.
Who is hoisted on the alleged superiority of their race and cleverly hidden under the pretext of safeguarding the peace of the village where she lives since the invasion of men of different races, cultures and different in appearance from their own, spreading prejudices, as if they were grass seeds in a fertile field planted with wheat, actually afraid, a huge primeval fear of discovering a truth.
Truth to find himself in front of a mirror to the soul and of being brutalized much of its brother, the dirty, ragged, poor, different, that despite the spitting and insults, continues to reach out his hand, not take, but to give, with the serene simplicity of those who can not live with, the humanity of which is filled and that asks little in return, very little: only respect, even for his little diversity.
Originally the men were all the same color. Color of mud, from which they were mixed.
But when they started to spread in different environments, changed the color of their skin to adapt to different climates.
Today there are so many races, but inwardly they are all equal, even though they speak different languages and words seem not to understand.
A little 'as children who would always be right, there is always someone who claims to have the color better than everyone else. But it's just who wants to raise its voice, because after all he is afraid even of his own shadow and thinks that behaving in this way nobody will notice.
Who is hoisted on the alleged superiority of their race and cleverly hidden under the pretext of safeguarding the peace of the village where she lives since the invasion of men of different races, cultures and different in appearance from their own, spreading prejudices, as if they were grass seeds in a fertile field planted with wheat, actually afraid, a huge primeval fear of discovering a truth.
Truth to find himself in front of a mirror to the soul and of being brutalized much of its brother, the dirty, ragged, poor, different, that despite the spitting and insults, continues to reach out his hand, not take, but to give, with the serene simplicity of those who can not live with, the humanity of which is filled and that asks little in return, very little: only respect, even for his little diversity.
"Peace"
This sea that borders our land with its waves gives us the lament of those distant lands of the Middle East in which peace can not be much time to find asylum, although many times to get knocked on the door of the hardened hearts of many , too many wars.
Many men have tried to help her to land and managed to make only a few steps.
Where the steps of a stopped, continued as the next, as a witness who was passing from hand to hand and from life to life.
The children who live there want to smile, smiles with long and serene, free from all anxieties that leave many wars at the bottom of hearts.
For now are content to look farther than where they arrive their eyes and hope that we can open up the horizon one day in a huge big smile that embraces them all.
This sea that borders our land with its waves gives us the lament of those distant lands of the Middle East in which peace can not be much time to find asylum, although many times to get knocked on the door of the hardened hearts of many , too many wars.
Many men have tried to help her to land and managed to make only a few steps.
Where the steps of a stopped, continued as the next, as a witness who was passing from hand to hand and from life to life.
The children who live there want to smile, smiles with long and serene, free from all anxieties that leave many wars at the bottom of hearts.
For now are content to look farther than where they arrive their eyes and hope that we can open up the horizon one day in a huge big smile that embraces them all.
"When the men were afraid of the dark"
It was so long ago, a time when it was difficult to be children. The toys did not yet exist, as there were not many other things that today seem indispensable.
We went to bed early, as soon as it got dark, in places barely safe. But the wild animals were lying in wait and served all the cunning and intelligence at their disposal men and women of that time to escape from their clutches.
The food is procured with difficulty, at the risk of being eaten.
The words did not exist and still almost came when they talked mostly grunts and away from the lines of a language to talk about today.
So many things were unknown, and many more are hoping to ingratiate himself to relieve loved one's life from the many troubles that surrounded it.
Human luckily someone discovered fire and learned how to use it and the fear of the dark slowly disappeared, like many others, atavistic, that continue to surface at times in some individuals, even today.
It was so long ago, a time when it was difficult to be children. The toys did not yet exist, as there were not many other things that today seem indispensable.
We went to bed early, as soon as it got dark, in places barely safe. But the wild animals were lying in wait and served all the cunning and intelligence at their disposal men and women of that time to escape from their clutches.
The food is procured with difficulty, at the risk of being eaten.
The words did not exist and still almost came when they talked mostly grunts and away from the lines of a language to talk about today.
So many things were unknown, and many more are hoping to ingratiate himself to relieve loved one's life from the many troubles that surrounded it.
Human luckily someone discovered fire and learned how to use it and the fear of the dark slowly disappeared, like many others, atavistic, that continue to surface at times in some individuals, even today.
"Treasure Island"
There is no need to look at along the map to get there.
Does not even scrape together a crew to board a ship and set sail, threatening, following the mutiny of most men, do not even get safely to destination.
There is no need to follow word for word for all the ups and downs in the book by Jim Stevenson.
Just remain silent and listen.
Please read the pulse of his heart and instincts and feelings, learn to direct them towards something constructive and positive.
And in the end it turns out, surprisingly, that the treasure is in place, where we imagine, in our mind, no chests, no locks or complicated sturdy padlocks. Do not want to stay closed because it is alive and needs to roam. He wants to grow with us and it also needs to walk with the strength of our feelings, to get out from the inside to see the light of the sun, too, and giving.
His name is Love, even though they often are ashamed to utter the syllables.
But it is necessary if we want to remain silent only so many islands surrounded by oceans of empty too dumb.
There is no need to look at along the map to get there.
Does not even scrape together a crew to board a ship and set sail, threatening, following the mutiny of most men, do not even get safely to destination.
There is no need to follow word for word for all the ups and downs in the book by Jim Stevenson.
Just remain silent and listen.
Please read the pulse of his heart and instincts and feelings, learn to direct them towards something constructive and positive.
And in the end it turns out, surprisingly, that the treasure is in place, where we imagine, in our mind, no chests, no locks or complicated sturdy padlocks. Do not want to stay closed because it is alive and needs to roam. He wants to grow with us and it also needs to walk with the strength of our feelings, to get out from the inside to see the light of the sun, too, and giving.
His name is Love, even though they often are ashamed to utter the syllables.
But it is necessary if we want to remain silent only so many islands surrounded by oceans of empty too dumb.
"The support of life"
The grandparents to their grandchildren tend to take them in hand more serene passages of their childhood, they would desire, in the bend of their years, to find support in these grandchildren grow up, to accompany them with love until the last steps, listening to the wealth that their long life has accumulated inside their minds.
Their old and wise words would fall on deaf ears as indifference and flourish in the hearts of young people, too often distracted by deceptive mirage, allowing you to not succumb to flattery and false will enable them to draw their own path in the wake began, becoming too strong plants resistant to storms and that will bring them life.
The grandparents to their grandchildren tend to take them in hand more serene passages of their childhood, they would desire, in the bend of their years, to find support in these grandchildren grow up, to accompany them with love until the last steps, listening to the wealth that their long life has accumulated inside their minds.
Their old and wise words would fall on deaf ears as indifference and flourish in the hearts of young people, too often distracted by deceptive mirage, allowing you to not succumb to flattery and false will enable them to draw their own path in the wake began, becoming too strong plants resistant to storms and that will bring them life.
"The locker room"
Once, that was still a child, but he was old enough to be a man, lived at home and at night he would sleep in the room where he became a boy.
In this room, the size just enough to hold up its own university student, in addition to the bed, to the drawing board and table, also had a cabinet that did not rest directly on the ground, but that it was used a few raised palm with of wooden legs.
Since this closet had become very mature with the years and the student will often loaded beyond its strength, with clothes, books, drawings and other materials of his study architecture, every now and then took off some legs, which was promptly put back in its place, to prevent its ruin upon anyone.
That student was quite bold, dare to sleep near the closet, always poised and legs that often paraded.
One day, while he was at university, which happened a few feet and immediately marched the same time the cabinet lost its already precarious balance, it being tilted while the mother and two sisters of the student, terrified, tried in vain to get him back on his positions, but there was no way the weight of all that was there to provide it with the legs prevented falls and also those that remained were breaking.
The late afternoon, on his return home he found a surprise in the cabinet with no legs and the rebuke of his mother and sisters for fear took hold well and the best two-piece cabinet stacked one on the gliding 'another great and fear that they might ruin him.
Once, that was still a child, but he was old enough to be a man, lived at home and at night he would sleep in the room where he became a boy.
In this room, the size just enough to hold up its own university student, in addition to the bed, to the drawing board and table, also had a cabinet that did not rest directly on the ground, but that it was used a few raised palm with of wooden legs.
Since this closet had become very mature with the years and the student will often loaded beyond its strength, with clothes, books, drawings and other materials of his study architecture, every now and then took off some legs, which was promptly put back in its place, to prevent its ruin upon anyone.
That student was quite bold, dare to sleep near the closet, always poised and legs that often paraded.
One day, while he was at university, which happened a few feet and immediately marched the same time the cabinet lost its already precarious balance, it being tilted while the mother and two sisters of the student, terrified, tried in vain to get him back on his positions, but there was no way the weight of all that was there to provide it with the legs prevented falls and also those that remained were breaking.
The late afternoon, on his return home he found a surprise in the cabinet with no legs and the rebuke of his mother and sisters for fear took hold well and the best two-piece cabinet stacked one on the gliding 'another great and fear that they might ruin him.
"Peter the binoculars"
Once a child is approached in small steps at the beginning of his childhood, he found a pair of binoculars.
Intrigued, he took it in hand and began to look into it.
Did not know where to look: he did not understand the operation.
He tried to point it in some direction, but the images he saw were blurry in the beginning.
On one side were too tight and too small.
He tried to adjust with the wheel that was, but he was familiar and he could not center the focal point or aims to which.
He was greatly intrigued by the potential of this extraordinary tool, but at the same time, almost frightened by the use that could be done and procrastinate.
Looking back, he saw the younger children and their little worlds, serene, tranquil and full of attention by all.
Casting her gaze ahead of him, barely visible, still shrouded by the mists of the future, the older boys who wanted to be free and choose to walk, but sometimes when they spoke were not understood.
It was in the middle, unsure whether to stay still, almost in the regret of not being able to go back to younger years, any delay or break up and stretch with the decision to thin out as soon as the fog.
Binoculars That was just an excuse: those who had to realize was that I was inside.
And that child was no longer safe to be so for much longer.
Once a child is approached in small steps at the beginning of his childhood, he found a pair of binoculars.
Intrigued, he took it in hand and began to look into it.
Did not know where to look: he did not understand the operation.
He tried to point it in some direction, but the images he saw were blurry in the beginning.
On one side were too tight and too small.
He tried to adjust with the wheel that was, but he was familiar and he could not center the focal point or aims to which.
He was greatly intrigued by the potential of this extraordinary tool, but at the same time, almost frightened by the use that could be done and procrastinate.
Looking back, he saw the younger children and their little worlds, serene, tranquil and full of attention by all.
Casting her gaze ahead of him, barely visible, still shrouded by the mists of the future, the older boys who wanted to be free and choose to walk, but sometimes when they spoke were not understood.
It was in the middle, unsure whether to stay still, almost in the regret of not being able to go back to younger years, any delay or break up and stretch with the decision to thin out as soon as the fog.
Binoculars That was just an excuse: those who had to realize was that I was inside.
And that child was no longer safe to be so for much longer.
"The Writer of children"
Once, long ago, there was a man who liked to write stories so outlandish, that appealed especially to children.
The large, however, turned up their noses, not finding written anything serious, indeed, saw only odd words, placed between them with too much imagination.
Many children have known him and many more have heard his stories read by someone. They wanted to hear so many stories written by him, but one day you had to go away and the children were all orphans of his playfulness.
Many of them, in his writings, have learned to play with their imagination and direct it towards others, to open the world overcoming fears.
Became adults were able to move their legs by opening new roads, bright and colorful, and still thank him for his imaginative stories and able to stimulate their minds to flow out of their narrow fields.
Once, long ago, there was a man who liked to write stories so outlandish, that appealed especially to children.
The large, however, turned up their noses, not finding written anything serious, indeed, saw only odd words, placed between them with too much imagination.
Many children have known him and many more have heard his stories read by someone. They wanted to hear so many stories written by him, but one day you had to go away and the children were all orphans of his playfulness.
Many of them, in his writings, have learned to play with their imagination and direct it towards others, to open the world overcoming fears.
Became adults were able to move their legs by opening new roads, bright and colorful, and still thank him for his imaginative stories and able to stimulate their minds to flow out of their narrow fields.
"Mr. Destiny"
We all seek, large and small, would like to know what to reserve for each of them.
The questions are of all kinds and in all forms, hoping to soon have the answers to the expectations.
But he escape quick and goes away even faster, generally between the protest, just a whisper: "In due time! I will reply in kind and will settle as best they deserve, according to your current commitments and future! "
The coat buttoned tight and the collar turned up, hat pulled down over his eyes wide, did not give way to anyone looking to see cold, otherwise, instead of worrying so much closer in a hurry, they would have preferred to glimpse from afar, looking to soften with time.
We all seek, large and small, would like to know what to reserve for each of them.
The questions are of all kinds and in all forms, hoping to soon have the answers to the expectations.
But he escape quick and goes away even faster, generally between the protest, just a whisper: "In due time! I will reply in kind and will settle as best they deserve, according to your current commitments and future! "
The coat buttoned tight and the collar turned up, hat pulled down over his eyes wide, did not give way to anyone looking to see cold, otherwise, instead of worrying so much closer in a hurry, they would have preferred to glimpse from afar, looking to soften with time.
"There are things that no one can tell"
They are the ones you have to experience first hand, on your skin than that if they try to tell you, you do not believe, do not listen to the words and you have to try to hear the facts that happen, as if it were something that no one has yet written as if it were something that still lived. Because you're new, a blank sheet of virgin paper, yet to be penned from life.
The rod life in words. Life is not lived in an epidemic, almost indifferent to superficiality, but in a profound way, that's the depths of the soul to arrive at defining the essence of a person within its contour cut around its entire limits.
And are the limits that identify a person, a little 'as his identity card, and, until it knows them, knows who he is and wanders through his life to research.
They are the ones you have to experience first hand, on your skin than that if they try to tell you, you do not believe, do not listen to the words and you have to try to hear the facts that happen, as if it were something that no one has yet written as if it were something that still lived. Because you're new, a blank sheet of virgin paper, yet to be penned from life.
The rod life in words. Life is not lived in an epidemic, almost indifferent to superficiality, but in a profound way, that's the depths of the soul to arrive at defining the essence of a person within its contour cut around its entire limits.
And are the limits that identify a person, a little 'as his identity card, and, until it knows them, knows who he is and wanders through his life to research.
"To think age"
There are people who care about the time that elapses.
They want to hide and not be found, thinking it's a shame to show signs that it leaves on your face.
But that caresses the faces of people long ago, I complimented a friend says that in the only language that can, since it does not speak with his hands and did not scroll to them.
Rejecting these compliments could offend and would not be polite.
No child is concerned about the passage of time and would do well to continue to not worry about it, but often, to become great, he gets picked from the fears and frightening to see grow too old.
There are people who care about the time that elapses.
They want to hide and not be found, thinking it's a shame to show signs that it leaves on your face.
But that caresses the faces of people long ago, I complimented a friend says that in the only language that can, since it does not speak with his hands and did not scroll to them.
Rejecting these compliments could offend and would not be polite.
No child is concerned about the passage of time and would do well to continue to not worry about it, but often, to become great, he gets picked from the fears and frightening to see grow too old.
"When the pen is running out"
One writes that he uses his pen, pouring rivers of ink on paper.
If he writes in one go, then, does not skimp at all the amount of ink consumed for racing following his thoughts, that the flow is free and just in time to appuntarseli.
But suddenly, looking at the cartridge that holds the pen between his fingers, he realized that the ink is gone, the pen still writes and who knows how!
If you do not have other, writes with the uncertainty that may end up in the middle of his thoughts and that can leave survivors in a sea of blank paper without ink.
But if the writer wrote stories for children, the features of the pen when it starts to stop writing, would be the track of his sobs and his attempt to communicate through Morse code.
The sobs of the pen does not feel, because the pen does not speak with the voice, but through its ink on the paper and writes them to make them pass the hiccups you can not give water to the pen, nor have them take a good scare, even if you can threaten to throw it, but it has no ears and there can not hear.
But if you drink a nice glass of ink, perhaps passing the hiccups and starts to write as it must, and not word for word at times, affecting only the white of the paper, that you can hardly read anything .
But the writer should also have a lot of imagination to find a glass suitable for a pen that is also no mouth!
One writes that he uses his pen, pouring rivers of ink on paper.
If he writes in one go, then, does not skimp at all the amount of ink consumed for racing following his thoughts, that the flow is free and just in time to appuntarseli.
But suddenly, looking at the cartridge that holds the pen between his fingers, he realized that the ink is gone, the pen still writes and who knows how!
If you do not have other, writes with the uncertainty that may end up in the middle of his thoughts and that can leave survivors in a sea of blank paper without ink.
But if the writer wrote stories for children, the features of the pen when it starts to stop writing, would be the track of his sobs and his attempt to communicate through Morse code.
The sobs of the pen does not feel, because the pen does not speak with the voice, but through its ink on the paper and writes them to make them pass the hiccups you can not give water to the pen, nor have them take a good scare, even if you can threaten to throw it, but it has no ears and there can not hear.
But if you drink a nice glass of ink, perhaps passing the hiccups and starts to write as it must, and not word for word at times, affecting only the white of the paper, that you can hardly read anything .
But the writer should also have a lot of imagination to find a glass suitable for a pen that is also no mouth!
"Behind his glasses"
Behind the glasses are the eyes and the eyes of people watching, each in its own way.
The glasses are used to smooth eyes when they come to see with clarity the world around them and fail to provide comprehensive information to people who throw them in fear of making missteps.
The lens mounts that hold the glasses have different shapes and thicknesses: is the end, thick, concave or convex, vary depending on the problem that the eyes show.
There are long glances that go too far and would like to see where the lenses are used to stop those looks at the proper distance before rushing too far.
There are courts that looks do not come where they should and people do not see much farther than their nose, the lenses in that case need to do a few more steps, to arrive where it is needed.
Then there are glasses that make you to feel more beautiful or coquetry, to cover the strongest rays of the sun. The lenses are dark or even holding up a mirror and look through those who prefers not to be seen not to be discovered what goes in the eye.
People who are older, they need to support their older lenses that looks.
Grandparents who read the stories, have glasses that allow him to see the letters of written words to read them to their grandchildren, who would take those glasses and see what they see when we look inside the grandparents.
But if they do, their young eyes, they see only blurred and clouded everything and think that their grandparents are magicians who can read words despite the fog that is before their eyes the elderly.
Behind the glasses are the eyes and the eyes of people watching, each in its own way.
The glasses are used to smooth eyes when they come to see with clarity the world around them and fail to provide comprehensive information to people who throw them in fear of making missteps.
The lens mounts that hold the glasses have different shapes and thicknesses: is the end, thick, concave or convex, vary depending on the problem that the eyes show.
There are long glances that go too far and would like to see where the lenses are used to stop those looks at the proper distance before rushing too far.
There are courts that looks do not come where they should and people do not see much farther than their nose, the lenses in that case need to do a few more steps, to arrive where it is needed.
Then there are glasses that make you to feel more beautiful or coquetry, to cover the strongest rays of the sun. The lenses are dark or even holding up a mirror and look through those who prefers not to be seen not to be discovered what goes in the eye.
People who are older, they need to support their older lenses that looks.
Grandparents who read the stories, have glasses that allow him to see the letters of written words to read them to their grandchildren, who would take those glasses and see what they see when we look inside the grandparents.
But if they do, their young eyes, they see only blurred and clouded everything and think that their grandparents are magicians who can read words despite the fog that is before their eyes the elderly.
"The kids who make it long"
They find every excuse when you do not want to eat and parents, desperate, they are always there to take.
Those mouths shut they do not want the meals, sitting on chairs or on the chairs, are the same villains, who enjoy impunity to be coaxed to open her mouth and letting the food.
Parents fed up with the idea that shaking is approaching the time to eat, thinking about all the effort that he will have to convince their child, who just wants to play, which is also important to stop and feed on substances that stomach rumbling and who complains, but nobody wants to feel alone.
When they realize that it is important to do everything and not think about just playing?
Childhood is beautiful because it is full of such serene and sweet, carefree.
concerns to adults and children the pleasures and distractions.
But beware: life is a wheel and what we like to do now and do not like our parents, they will one day our children and we will take care of the downside.
But if they do, their young eyes, they see only blurred and clouded everything and think that their grandparents are magicians who can read words despite the fog that is before their eyes the elderly.
They find every excuse when you do not want to eat and parents, desperate, they are always there to take.
Those mouths shut they do not want the meals, sitting on chairs or on the chairs, are the same villains, who enjoy impunity to be coaxed to open her mouth and letting the food.
Parents fed up with the idea that shaking is approaching the time to eat, thinking about all the effort that he will have to convince their child, who just wants to play, which is also important to stop and feed on substances that stomach rumbling and who complains, but nobody wants to feel alone.
When they realize that it is important to do everything and not think about just playing?
Childhood is beautiful because it is full of such serene and sweet, carefree.
concerns to adults and children the pleasures and distractions.
But beware: life is a wheel and what we like to do now and do not like our parents, they will one day our children and we will take care of the downside.
But if they do, their young eyes, they see only blurred and clouded everything and think that their grandparents are magicians who can read words despite the fog that is before their eyes the elderly.
"The colors of the rainbow"
There are decks high, placed so high that we can come up with no man in his footsteps.
But at the same time are so low that, to see them, raise our eyes and make them ascend to the serenity.
Rainbows are made of all colors, so light that the transparency of their existence, mild and transient, without a hope in our eyes so ethereal that lifts our spirits and keeps on top of all the worries and anxieties.
Rainbows are always after the storms, as if to remind us, young men, that there is a later, even after the worst of storms that can distort our lives, our souls, and that soothe them from all suffering.
We are like children who run away from the dark clouds that get angry and shout at them with thunder and lightning, but that when the rainbows come out, they pull their heads out from where they are refugees, and with upturned noses to admire the beauty of all those colors arranged in curved bars, side by side and willing to restore their wealth, the gray dense, little by little, he rips all the colors and leaves reappear in the world.
There are decks high, placed so high that we can come up with no man in his footsteps.
But at the same time are so low that, to see them, raise our eyes and make them ascend to the serenity.
Rainbows are made of all colors, so light that the transparency of their existence, mild and transient, without a hope in our eyes so ethereal that lifts our spirits and keeps on top of all the worries and anxieties.
Rainbows are always after the storms, as if to remind us, young men, that there is a later, even after the worst of storms that can distort our lives, our souls, and that soothe them from all suffering.
We are like children who run away from the dark clouds that get angry and shout at them with thunder and lightning, but that when the rainbows come out, they pull their heads out from where they are refugees, and with upturned noses to admire the beauty of all those colors arranged in curved bars, side by side and willing to restore their wealth, the gray dense, little by little, he rips all the colors and leaves reappear in the world.
"The colors case’s"
Children have the enthusiasm to paint their days with the joy that comes from within. Grown-ups are too busy to do it, often overwhelmed with concerns, also struggling to move their thoughts and could hardly drag their feet in a gray routine, every day from morning to evening.
Children no, not yet know the routine, good luck and hope to grow up being able to break free from these fetters from which their parents are surrounded.
Somewhere holding a carton full of color.
It's what they do with spells.
Suddenly, when least expected a great, sadly, in the greyness of his commitments that assail him, here is that a child will pull out a green and around the big spreads, the beginning only as a spot of color , but extends more and more, a lawn, gradually growing and stretching, all huge and colorful. The largest is the saddest, is rolling on the grass with a ball and runs, runs at breakneck speed, like a child even though his breath at one point is missing and finds himself sitting on the floor of his office, with its paperwork scattered around.
But it is happy to have dreamed that magic color that has been donated.
Another friend who swims in a sea led him around with turtles and dolphins.
Someone flies between the fluffy clouds.
Others lying under the shade of huge trees, breathe deeply and fortify their lives.
That case children who do not hold it for them.
The colors live only if they have lived and you have to give space to children so that they can bring out their colors and color of serenity our gray world of adults.
Only then can smile again and regain the joy of existence.
Children have the enthusiasm to paint their days with the joy that comes from within. Grown-ups are too busy to do it, often overwhelmed with concerns, also struggling to move their thoughts and could hardly drag their feet in a gray routine, every day from morning to evening.
Children no, not yet know the routine, good luck and hope to grow up being able to break free from these fetters from which their parents are surrounded.
Somewhere holding a carton full of color.
It's what they do with spells.
Suddenly, when least expected a great, sadly, in the greyness of his commitments that assail him, here is that a child will pull out a green and around the big spreads, the beginning only as a spot of color , but extends more and more, a lawn, gradually growing and stretching, all huge and colorful. The largest is the saddest, is rolling on the grass with a ball and runs, runs at breakneck speed, like a child even though his breath at one point is missing and finds himself sitting on the floor of his office, with its paperwork scattered around.
But it is happy to have dreamed that magic color that has been donated.
Another friend who swims in a sea led him around with turtles and dolphins.
Someone flies between the fluffy clouds.
Others lying under the shade of huge trees, breathe deeply and fortify their lives.
That case children who do not hold it for them.
The colors live only if they have lived and you have to give space to children so that they can bring out their colors and color of serenity our gray world of adults.
Only then can smile again and regain the joy of existence.
"The city that children dream"
He has a smiling face and not scary like those in which they live.
Speaking quietly to avoid waking the younger children when they sleep
It has smooth roads, and of all colors, where they walk on tiptoe kind of machines and well educated, who have never hurry, do not pollute and that, instead of trumpeting with horns, humming happy songs that appeal to both children, who are not afraid to cross the streets, because no one will run without looking where it goes.
There are many parks, full of meadows and trees, there are benches where people who are tired of walking, you can stop to rest.
Places to play is so full, that no child remains on the sidelines with the ball in his hands, but runs, happy and carefree, playing.
There are many children and they all meet in full their desire to play and nobody gets bored.
There are also lots of toys, of all types and all the children play without breaking them.
Even grown-ups are free to play and do all the moments they want, no one stopped him.
The air you breathe is fresh and fragrant, with no smog, no.
The inhabitants are all happy because you all feel welcomed in a city so good.
Too bad that no one has yet built a city so soft, where no one feels a prisoner.
It's still just a dream, but it is said that can not be achieved gradually, with the contribution of all, learning to live more carefully, listening to the words of children and their big dreams, which often raise the strongly spirits too much enfeebled by the sadness of life.
He has a smiling face and not scary like those in which they live.
Speaking quietly to avoid waking the younger children when they sleep
It has smooth roads, and of all colors, where they walk on tiptoe kind of machines and well educated, who have never hurry, do not pollute and that, instead of trumpeting with horns, humming happy songs that appeal to both children, who are not afraid to cross the streets, because no one will run without looking where it goes.
There are many parks, full of meadows and trees, there are benches where people who are tired of walking, you can stop to rest.
Places to play is so full, that no child remains on the sidelines with the ball in his hands, but runs, happy and carefree, playing.
There are many children and they all meet in full their desire to play and nobody gets bored.
There are also lots of toys, of all types and all the children play without breaking them.
Even grown-ups are free to play and do all the moments they want, no one stopped him.
The air you breathe is fresh and fragrant, with no smog, no.
The inhabitants are all happy because you all feel welcomed in a city so good.
Too bad that no one has yet built a city so soft, where no one feels a prisoner.
It's still just a dream, but it is said that can not be achieved gradually, with the contribution of all, learning to live more carefully, listening to the words of children and their big dreams, which often raise the strongly spirits too much enfeebled by the sadness of life.
"The essence of the Seeker"
He climbs to the most inaccessible places, in search of the essence of things.
It is not easy to follow steps, fast and experienced, while the trails climbs steeper and steeper.
People accustomed to comfortable walking on flat roads is content to surround themselves with objects, often deprived of their own species, but often not even aware of it.
The essence is difficult to grasp, and who knows the places where it collects is often elusive to the common dialogue.
The essence of pleasure does not show it unless he knows how to appreciate the substance, but we need to investigate to see and feel the need.
Only if you find the lack of your mind to something, you are willing to get on the road, walking in search of what we are missing.
He climbs to the most inaccessible places, in search of the essence of things.
It is not easy to follow steps, fast and experienced, while the trails climbs steeper and steeper.
People accustomed to comfortable walking on flat roads is content to surround themselves with objects, often deprived of their own species, but often not even aware of it.
The essence is difficult to grasp, and who knows the places where it collects is often elusive to the common dialogue.
The essence of pleasure does not show it unless he knows how to appreciate the substance, but we need to investigate to see and feel the need.
Only if you find the lack of your mind to something, you are willing to get on the road, walking in search of what we are missing.
"When there were four seasons"
The quiet regularity of their succession, the pace of life of people who recognized themselves in those seasons. Even the musicians I had composed their works highlighting the differences.
The farmers cultivated the land according to their instructions carefully, with painstaking thoroughness, not to endanger the success of crops.
But then what happened?
Gradually the men began to build factories and machines more sophisticated, have always wanted to take over the land, leaving less and less. All I ate, I piled up wherever it happened.
The land, water and air were full of these wastes produced by man.
For many years no one has bothered to find a solution and implement it, to put things right.
Now that we are surrounded by pollution, if we are not careful, we find ourselves increasingly poisoned, even unintentionally.
Even the air we breathe and the water stinks no longer tastes good.
The seasons are not the same anymore than once, even if we continue to call them with the same names, and often the weather goes crazy, almost to the point that we no longer know how to dress.
The quiet regularity of their succession, the pace of life of people who recognized themselves in those seasons. Even the musicians I had composed their works highlighting the differences.
The farmers cultivated the land according to their instructions carefully, with painstaking thoroughness, not to endanger the success of crops.
But then what happened?
Gradually the men began to build factories and machines more sophisticated, have always wanted to take over the land, leaving less and less. All I ate, I piled up wherever it happened.
The land, water and air were full of these wastes produced by man.
For many years no one has bothered to find a solution and implement it, to put things right.
Now that we are surrounded by pollution, if we are not careful, we find ourselves increasingly poisoned, even unintentionally.
Even the air we breathe and the water stinks no longer tastes good.
The seasons are not the same anymore than once, even if we continue to call them with the same names, and often the weather goes crazy, almost to the point that we no longer know how to dress.
"The Comedy Bomb"
So many sad people who are inside, too, live thinking only evil enemies from which they feel to be surrounded.
To defend themselves believe that the best way to be manufactured more powerful weapons with which to attack, believing that the other do likewise.
But the worst enemies are those who hide in, are the wrong beliefs, those that show more and more subtle dark gray or black all over, even before a clear day, illuminated by the sun.
The sadness of all these people would defeat all together, with a great big bomb, which no man is able to build, much less to explode.
Only the children know how to build, but the smaller ones, who are sad for a while, when they are hungry or sleepy and can not yet say.
Their eyes almost always laugh and even the saddest of men, approaches and looks at them, forgets his sadness, he throws away all the weapons that was built and, instead of fighting with all his sadness, and begins to smile enters the blue sky in her eyes, stretching his mind until the last ray of sunshine, daisies bloom in the thoughts, and while you miss all the hate and hatched his unhappiness, he realizes to be alive and strips of camouflage, ideology and fanaticism, from which he was dressed and began to be a person to breathe deeply, to reclaim his life and starts walking, holding hands with the children, towards a horizon cloudy and free from all fears.
And within only has a great desire to laugh and be happy.
So many sad people who are inside, too, live thinking only evil enemies from which they feel to be surrounded.
To defend themselves believe that the best way to be manufactured more powerful weapons with which to attack, believing that the other do likewise.
But the worst enemies are those who hide in, are the wrong beliefs, those that show more and more subtle dark gray or black all over, even before a clear day, illuminated by the sun.
The sadness of all these people would defeat all together, with a great big bomb, which no man is able to build, much less to explode.
Only the children know how to build, but the smaller ones, who are sad for a while, when they are hungry or sleepy and can not yet say.
Their eyes almost always laugh and even the saddest of men, approaches and looks at them, forgets his sadness, he throws away all the weapons that was built and, instead of fighting with all his sadness, and begins to smile enters the blue sky in her eyes, stretching his mind until the last ray of sunshine, daisies bloom in the thoughts, and while you miss all the hate and hatched his unhappiness, he realizes to be alive and strips of camouflage, ideology and fanaticism, from which he was dressed and began to be a person to breathe deeply, to reclaim his life and starts walking, holding hands with the children, towards a horizon cloudy and free from all fears.
And within only has a great desire to laugh and be happy.
"How can high walls?"
People who do not want to talk to each other because they are convinced that there can be no dialogue, they prefer to be separated by raising high walls to the point of taking his eyes he could see and avoid eyes.
If people come to see themselves in the eye, may also find that the bottom are not the enemy.
Because children do not have enemies?
Because they all look in the eyes and no one who is seen within his eyes, can hide what's inside.
In the same way also works for nations whose people are convinced that there is hatred and rivalry between them and are kept separate with high walls that prevent you from looking.
It's just that it turns out looking like, it's just that one discovers the same peering and how can you hate someone that looks to our being, who suffers from our own suffering, suffering that our own suffering?
The walls can be very high, but if you are too, we are curious about the voices that come from beyond their profile and in the long run you feel the need to knock them down to watch those who remained behind.
If they are too low, then climb even children know and where do the children do not stand up the walls.
People who do not want to talk to each other because they are convinced that there can be no dialogue, they prefer to be separated by raising high walls to the point of taking his eyes he could see and avoid eyes.
If people come to see themselves in the eye, may also find that the bottom are not the enemy.
Because children do not have enemies?
Because they all look in the eyes and no one who is seen within his eyes, can hide what's inside.
In the same way also works for nations whose people are convinced that there is hatred and rivalry between them and are kept separate with high walls that prevent you from looking.
It's just that it turns out looking like, it's just that one discovers the same peering and how can you hate someone that looks to our being, who suffers from our own suffering, suffering that our own suffering?
The walls can be very high, but if you are too, we are curious about the voices that come from beyond their profile and in the long run you feel the need to knock them down to watch those who remained behind.
If they are too low, then climb even children know and where do the children do not stand up the walls.
"Pinzillacchere, trifles, and trifles"
At one time they were more easily, even on the road, between the interstices of the paving.
There were people willing to linger near them, and even the time ran so fast.
For children, then, were a real treat, every now and Gramps was something that was selling in profusion from his banquet, prepared at all points for the occasion.
No parent could remove from the pleas of children to have at least a small bag, which did not cost at all, but little money.
The names that were given to them were tenderly peanuts, fusaglie, sweet olives, peanuts.
All the kids were going crazy and many of them, who are now grown up, they would find those ficozzi of cones made of paper, tucked into the hand and pull out of the hat as a conjurer, the taste of those times, of that 'childhood, the more free from fetters and many many commitments, too afflicting the children who are now breathing and do not leave their carefree childhood.
At one time they were more easily, even on the road, between the interstices of the paving.
There were people willing to linger near them, and even the time ran so fast.
For children, then, were a real treat, every now and Gramps was something that was selling in profusion from his banquet, prepared at all points for the occasion.
No parent could remove from the pleas of children to have at least a small bag, which did not cost at all, but little money.
The names that were given to them were tenderly peanuts, fusaglie, sweet olives, peanuts.
All the kids were going crazy and many of them, who are now grown up, they would find those ficozzi of cones made of paper, tucked into the hand and pull out of the hat as a conjurer, the taste of those times, of that 'childhood, the more free from fetters and many many commitments, too afflicting the children who are now breathing and do not leave their carefree childhood.
"How can you tell when a person is mature?"
In ancient times when children were small, they put for a while 'on' trees of the easy-going "and hung there quietly left to mature.
We were comfortable and were near all the toys and attention they needed.
Were fed with food and stories, even though little by little were also stimulated to grow with the reasoning.
But everything was weighed with due care and do not force anyone to be ahead of times.
Everyone came down with his forces, when it reached its proper degree of ripeness.
In ancient times when children were small, they put for a while 'on' trees of the easy-going "and hung there quietly left to mature.
We were comfortable and were near all the toys and attention they needed.
Were fed with food and stories, even though little by little were also stimulated to grow with the reasoning.
But everything was weighed with due care and do not force anyone to be ahead of times.
Everyone came down with his forces, when it reached its proper degree of ripeness.
"The days of the week"
They are seven and holding hands with the nights that we are in the middle.
Always play a round dance during all months of the year.
Children from an early age learn their names, but to see them all look the same.
Then rising and going to school are also born preferences and there are days that you would like and others who were not would not go away.
The days that make the circle is always equal and non stop, week after week, month after month, year after year.
They spend their whole lives behind this circle and the children grow up and become big hand in hand these days always playing circle.
They are seven and holding hands with the nights that we are in the middle.
Always play a round dance during all months of the year.
Children from an early age learn their names, but to see them all look the same.
Then rising and going to school are also born preferences and there are days that you would like and others who were not would not go away.
The days that make the circle is always equal and non stop, week after week, month after month, year after year.
They spend their whole lives behind this circle and the children grow up and become big hand in hand these days always playing circle.
"A leap in the dark"
Who makes the jumps in the dark does not want to be seen and even measure the heights or depths reaching where it falls.
But it remains a prisoner of the jump, who frees him if no one saw how dark it is blown?
The children fear the dark because they think they can jump on them.
But the large underestimate him, he can be detained by the stupidity of their swagger.
In the darkness is not expedient to jump through: it could fall somewhere and not be seen, both from small to large.
It's not a game fun.
Who makes the jumps in the dark does not want to be seen and even measure the heights or depths reaching where it falls.
But it remains a prisoner of the jump, who frees him if no one saw how dark it is blown?
The children fear the dark because they think they can jump on them.
But the large underestimate him, he can be detained by the stupidity of their swagger.
In the darkness is not expedient to jump through: it could fall somewhere and not be seen, both from small to large.
It's not a game fun.
"Sleepwalkers"
There are people who go to sleep at night and after a while 'that have fallen asleep, get up and, still asleep, they go for a walk around their home, dreaming of walking in their dreams.
Sometimes someone, always sleeping, opens the door, down the stairs and continue to dream for the city streets.
I wonder if their dreams are about things that are more beautiful than how they see with their eyes open in the sunlight!
Often too many people have forgotten the taste of cute kids to imagine things that are different from those sad, hovering, all closed in their gray coats, such as pale, even in the face with warm smiles as bright sunlight.
Maybe they need it, waking up, drinking a sip of imagination and enrich their black coffee with a bit of imagination, certainly their looks, too straight and alert, eventually would follow the curvature of the horizon and less flat monotony of the usual happy divert to the spontaneity of a smile, hello bestowing profusely.
There are people who go to sleep at night and after a while 'that have fallen asleep, get up and, still asleep, they go for a walk around their home, dreaming of walking in their dreams.
Sometimes someone, always sleeping, opens the door, down the stairs and continue to dream for the city streets.
I wonder if their dreams are about things that are more beautiful than how they see with their eyes open in the sunlight!
Often too many people have forgotten the taste of cute kids to imagine things that are different from those sad, hovering, all closed in their gray coats, such as pale, even in the face with warm smiles as bright sunlight.
Maybe they need it, waking up, drinking a sip of imagination and enrich their black coffee with a bit of imagination, certainly their looks, too straight and alert, eventually would follow the curvature of the horizon and less flat monotony of the usual happy divert to the spontaneity of a smile, hello bestowing profusely.
"The gentleman who had lost his sleep"
A man who one night just could not sleep, got up from his bed that was very uncomfortable, believing he had done out of spite to get in an awkward position, so then he slept.
But, despite having turned on the lights, the bed looked like he was in the position where every night, especially since he had not moved at all, nor had opened had no eye or smile of satisfaction in some way.
He continued to sleep in the way that all the beds they sleep: in silence, without moving a straw and with his head under the pillow over my head there because we put it to sleep.
Everything was in order, usually in order when you put to sleep and then you pull up, leaving the sheets and blankets a little 'and raised the pillow a little' crumpled.
But just what was missing was the sleep of that gentleman.
To find it had bent to look under the bed, so often as he had fallen over and had no chance. Nothing to do under the bed was not.
To tell the truth that man did not know what she looked like her sleep.
Every night he would sleep, he closed his eyes, everything was dark, and then nothing.
The next morning when he awoke, his sleep was gone and there was no way he could see it.
He had gone to the bathroom, it may be that while brushing your teeth before going to bed, had slipped somewhere.
Not seen there either.
Unless he had slipped into the hole of the discharge. But perhaps there would not be passed through the hole in the exhaust.
Perhaps without realizing it, had left him resting somewhere, perhaps on a book he had seen before or on the kitchen table next to flowers.
While going to these places and watch carefully, he could not find it.
Began to worry: the time spent the night and he was still around trying to find where he had left his sleep.
Everyone else, surely they were already in bed for a while and in the company of their sleep and slept undisturbed.
He was almost thinking of putting on to go outside to check that she had not lost there, but then reflected that perhaps it was better to drink a cup of chamomile tea.
After drinking it back to the bed, having lost hope of finding him and we would lie on top, as leaned her head on the pillow and closed his eyes, he was already there and it was already a bit 'that I almost expected and wanted of scolding because they do not come back from all the places where he had gone to look for, but while he had never moved from there.
A man who one night just could not sleep, got up from his bed that was very uncomfortable, believing he had done out of spite to get in an awkward position, so then he slept.
But, despite having turned on the lights, the bed looked like he was in the position where every night, especially since he had not moved at all, nor had opened had no eye or smile of satisfaction in some way.
He continued to sleep in the way that all the beds they sleep: in silence, without moving a straw and with his head under the pillow over my head there because we put it to sleep.
Everything was in order, usually in order when you put to sleep and then you pull up, leaving the sheets and blankets a little 'and raised the pillow a little' crumpled.
But just what was missing was the sleep of that gentleman.
To find it had bent to look under the bed, so often as he had fallen over and had no chance. Nothing to do under the bed was not.
To tell the truth that man did not know what she looked like her sleep.
Every night he would sleep, he closed his eyes, everything was dark, and then nothing.
The next morning when he awoke, his sleep was gone and there was no way he could see it.
He had gone to the bathroom, it may be that while brushing your teeth before going to bed, had slipped somewhere.
Not seen there either.
Unless he had slipped into the hole of the discharge. But perhaps there would not be passed through the hole in the exhaust.
Perhaps without realizing it, had left him resting somewhere, perhaps on a book he had seen before or on the kitchen table next to flowers.
While going to these places and watch carefully, he could not find it.
Began to worry: the time spent the night and he was still around trying to find where he had left his sleep.
Everyone else, surely they were already in bed for a while and in the company of their sleep and slept undisturbed.
He was almost thinking of putting on to go outside to check that she had not lost there, but then reflected that perhaps it was better to drink a cup of chamomile tea.
After drinking it back to the bed, having lost hope of finding him and we would lie on top, as leaned her head on the pillow and closed his eyes, he was already there and it was already a bit 'that I almost expected and wanted of scolding because they do not come back from all the places where he had gone to look for, but while he had never moved from there.
"Hair"
A man who no longer had a lot of hair on his head, did not use a comb or almost over.
When you looked, her hair was always prepared to their liking: who was thrown to the right, those who left, those at the bottom with extreme nonchalance, who curled up beyond belief and who was standing straight, was not even a power pole light.
As long as the gentleman above all that hair put a heavy hat, it seemed that they were obedient and they were still, but as soon as you take off: open sky! There was not one that was as it should go.
He had given up their home to roost for the same reason: they were always as they wanted.
If they could talk, perhaps they would hear some good, but they quarreled among themselves not to go, while everyone was available as he wanted and was bothering the neighbors.
Instead you see a head full of hair still young and they were all straight and narrow straits, which could hardly breathe and was forced to remain all in the same fold that required them comb.
A man who no longer had a lot of hair on his head, did not use a comb or almost over.
When you looked, her hair was always prepared to their liking: who was thrown to the right, those who left, those at the bottom with extreme nonchalance, who curled up beyond belief and who was standing straight, was not even a power pole light.
As long as the gentleman above all that hair put a heavy hat, it seemed that they were obedient and they were still, but as soon as you take off: open sky! There was not one that was as it should go.
He had given up their home to roost for the same reason: they were always as they wanted.
If they could talk, perhaps they would hear some good, but they quarreled among themselves not to go, while everyone was available as he wanted and was bothering the neighbors.
Instead you see a head full of hair still young and they were all straight and narrow straits, which could hardly breathe and was forced to remain all in the same fold that required them comb.
"Mr. Silence"
It is hard to come by in this busy world, full of noises.
It should set out along secluded paths that deviate from the usual people Avezzano set out to drag the sounds of which love to surround themselves.
You may get the early morning in a meadow surrounded by the chirping of birds cool that you have just awakened.
But a child who sleeps in the morning and when he gets to be prepared to go to school, does not really come across it.
Maybe he should desire to know this Mr. Silence, but how does it make if his parents are the first to leave always accompanied by fanfare and fuss?
The television, radio, VCR, phone, CD player, computer, and so on. All these bells and whistles turned on do not leave any breathing quiet man.
And the programs are interrupted, the volumes will rise even more, all up to revere the ladies advertising.
A child who does not even know what he looks like Mr. Silence, how do you recognize?
And if they ever meet?
It is hard to come by in this busy world, full of noises.
It should set out along secluded paths that deviate from the usual people Avezzano set out to drag the sounds of which love to surround themselves.
You may get the early morning in a meadow surrounded by the chirping of birds cool that you have just awakened.
But a child who sleeps in the morning and when he gets to be prepared to go to school, does not really come across it.
Maybe he should desire to know this Mr. Silence, but how does it make if his parents are the first to leave always accompanied by fanfare and fuss?
The television, radio, VCR, phone, CD player, computer, and so on. All these bells and whistles turned on do not leave any breathing quiet man.
And the programs are interrupted, the volumes will rise even more, all up to revere the ladies advertising.
A child who does not even know what he looks like Mr. Silence, how do you recognize?
And if they ever meet?
"Fingerprints"
On the sand, anyone who walked on, inevitably leaves the shape and direction of his steps and the larger and more in his footsteps are heavy, more deeply imprinted in his footsteps in the sand.
The morning shows the surface of the sand, like an open book, the words written in the footsteps of the beings that have marked their path.
There are footprints of birds, dogs, cats, or other men that are next to it at times overlap.
But these pages are being rewritten from scratch every day and every day that changes, it changes the story of characters who have marked their path.
One child remains with his mouth open in front of the sea and its waves chasing his steps and erase them up over his feet and his fingers tickle laughing while jumping backwards.
The sea with its waves meet our steps and gives us each time to write new pages.
On the sand, anyone who walked on, inevitably leaves the shape and direction of his steps and the larger and more in his footsteps are heavy, more deeply imprinted in his footsteps in the sand.
The morning shows the surface of the sand, like an open book, the words written in the footsteps of the beings that have marked their path.
There are footprints of birds, dogs, cats, or other men that are next to it at times overlap.
But these pages are being rewritten from scratch every day and every day that changes, it changes the story of characters who have marked their path.
One child remains with his mouth open in front of the sea and its waves chasing his steps and erase them up over his feet and his fingers tickle laughing while jumping backwards.
The sea with its waves meet our steps and gives us each time to write new pages.
"The album of dreams"
There are many children who enjoy doing the collection of figurines that are purchased by parents, locked in their packages, to retailers of newspapers.
We make many kinds of collections: football, animals, saints, etc..
All to some extent have the disadvantage that in order to complete them, you must spend a lot of money and have the patience to run into a great deal of duplication, so that does not mean that we are unable to complete the collection has begun.
But there was one kid who was tired of spending money only to find duplicates.
The album, which had decided to complete not sold anywhere, nor was there. The pages kept them all inside his head. The figurines were the images of beautiful and unusual dreams he did, since he was small.
The first figure was that of a dream four years after he was in Venice, inside alternating views of the city that mingled with traits of the neighborhood of Rome where he then lived, plus there was the presence of a five hundred of the '60s.
There were also many of those figures.
They were a little 'magic because instead of being still, when watched, began to move and change shots, developing the entire piece of the dream that had been stored.
When leafing through this child wanted his album to his liking, forward or backward.
She could not go too far because the pages were still white and the dreams you were to take place, they had not even dreamed of.
But he liked his album so the dream, even though he could not show anyone else because no one else could get into her head to look at the images that ran inside.
There are many children who enjoy doing the collection of figurines that are purchased by parents, locked in their packages, to retailers of newspapers.
We make many kinds of collections: football, animals, saints, etc..
All to some extent have the disadvantage that in order to complete them, you must spend a lot of money and have the patience to run into a great deal of duplication, so that does not mean that we are unable to complete the collection has begun.
But there was one kid who was tired of spending money only to find duplicates.
The album, which had decided to complete not sold anywhere, nor was there. The pages kept them all inside his head. The figurines were the images of beautiful and unusual dreams he did, since he was small.
The first figure was that of a dream four years after he was in Venice, inside alternating views of the city that mingled with traits of the neighborhood of Rome where he then lived, plus there was the presence of a five hundred of the '60s.
There were also many of those figures.
They were a little 'magic because instead of being still, when watched, began to move and change shots, developing the entire piece of the dream that had been stored.
When leafing through this child wanted his album to his liking, forward or backward.
She could not go too far because the pages were still white and the dreams you were to take place, they had not even dreamed of.
But he liked his album so the dream, even though he could not show anyone else because no one else could get into her head to look at the images that ran inside.
"The men who know how to dream"
There are men who are still able to dream. But dream so well that, even if they are awake, they continue to build their dreams.
They live for their dreams, to the point that they become true at the end.
They are their children, the magnificent creatures that make a gift to all humanity, without taking anything for himself, if not the joy of having given them life, even against all and despite the stupidity of many who were laughing in the face when were aware of their intentions.
As children have been able to keep in my heart the desire to build and you are afraid if their was a dream too big.
There are no dreams too large, when the sentiment that animates them is pure and disinterested in anything but their implementation for the sake of someone else in need.
There are men who are still able to dream. But dream so well that, even if they are awake, they continue to build their dreams.
They live for their dreams, to the point that they become true at the end.
They are their children, the magnificent creatures that make a gift to all humanity, without taking anything for himself, if not the joy of having given them life, even against all and despite the stupidity of many who were laughing in the face when were aware of their intentions.
As children have been able to keep in my heart the desire to build and you are afraid if their was a dream too big.
There are no dreams too large, when the sentiment that animates them is pure and disinterested in anything but their implementation for the sake of someone else in need.
"The bedtime stories of the old owl"
In the forest, in the evening just before going to sleep, the little ones are gathered in a small clearing under the big oak tree.
The old owl, once all had arrived to hear the bedtime story, from beginning to tell on a branch.
His voice rose above the thoughts of children and stimulated their imagination to walk behind his words that agile climb the narrow paths going up more and more.
No one was bored and no one dared to issue the mouth of the verses, if not awe in forwarding the story.
It recounted the adventures and exploits of their fellow men, often dealing with people, sometimes even unscrupulous.
At the end there was always a moral, because the purpose of those stories was also educational, stimulating research and debate within the soul to help him grow in a healthy way and opened the meeting with the difficulties of the adult world.
In the forest, in the evening just before going to sleep, the little ones are gathered in a small clearing under the big oak tree.
The old owl, once all had arrived to hear the bedtime story, from beginning to tell on a branch.
His voice rose above the thoughts of children and stimulated their imagination to walk behind his words that agile climb the narrow paths going up more and more.
No one was bored and no one dared to issue the mouth of the verses, if not awe in forwarding the story.
It recounted the adventures and exploits of their fellow men, often dealing with people, sometimes even unscrupulous.
At the end there was always a moral, because the purpose of those stories was also educational, stimulating research and debate within the soul to help him grow in a healthy way and opened the meeting with the difficulties of the adult world.
conclusion
In every child there is a ship in his thoughts, with sails unfurled, ready to sail the ocean by large waves, to overcome the endless space and boundless and beyond landing of something immense.
No matter how big this ship, the important thing is that browsing and enabling the dreams of crossing the barrier of reality ...
No matter how big this ship, the important thing is that browsing and enabling the dreams of crossing the barrier of reality ...
