Socks Slip Down In Shoes

Chronicle Kaos - Chapter 1: The ascent of Mount Ati agappe

That's it. I think I found what I needed to start something serious, a link between the major elements that interested me (too bad for the others). A brief beginning, a guideline. First chapter, first discovery of this new world that is very different from the previous nearest us, more real but more zany, more imagination. All that remains to go and write. Ah yes of course he must y'ait a quack.
Happy reading.

Music Inspiration: Cultus Ferox - Tamfanae

It is stupid things we did when we will die. Vincent Duroy was not an exception to the rule. First man to reach the top of the Ati Aggape, Mount gods, Vincent did not think his name go down in history as well. The ascent was rough, his equipment was rudimentary. His guides had deserted to three thousand meters. According to them the gods take offense if he continued. From the top of his delusional quarantine, Vincent does not believe in gods and knew that one of his colleagues had tried the previous year. He had to give up a little higher because of summit preparation, but this would soon be defeated and he could not pass up a chance to put his name in history. Maybe rename it in honor of the mountain. Wrapped
as he could, his mustache was frozen through his nose and cover he could not smooth it with her fingers. That was missing. The wind was blowing and the flakes are plates that his glasses. He often had to remove them for trying. The ascent was slow and painful, he missed fall twice but it was nothing compared to the level of exhaustion is reached, the wind constantly fought against you, trying to prevent even the smallest step forward as if you wanted roll to the plains below. Touching cold seeped into the lower gap of his clothes and he thanked his brother thought cyclist who advised him to be pressed newsprint on the chest. The fleeting image of his frozen body found a few years later with the scores attached to the skin made him smile. His chapped lips were split but not felt the most. A torch would fire him tonight and its autonomy was too weak to use it for long. He still could not see the top, covered with clouds and slowly began to lose hope. It operates the lever of his oxygen pump to give it a second wind, lever creaked and gave him the game he should definitely get to the summit the next day if he would quit. He had prepared his body lean to the lack of food but here everything was a battle of the spirit, of will.
His piercing blue eyes, still could not watch the sky while the clouds around him gently. He had expect to benefit from a unique view of a memorable vision but he saw only rocks, snow and clouds. He found a crevice that allows it to shelter from the wind for the night but he slept only two hours dreaming of the good meal he would get home. He started waking up, fearing that he too slept, his legs the refrigerated already struggling to his feet. He went his way painfully before sunrise despite the danger. He walked with difficulty but carefully. It without realizing it finally reached the summit. It pierced the roof and watched cloud heaven when he realized there was nothing above him. He placed the flag atop Vitalyan next to a plaque where his name was engraved in letters of gold. It seemed terribly out of place here but wanted to ensure that we can not dispute his passage.
Euphoria won the last, his name would remain forever engraved on top. There right away, he wanted to write to his wife Lea, but his fingers were frozen. He vowed to return, this time with other, better equipped. He chuckles thinking about the disappointment of its competitors and the joy of his patron. It would likely receive a lot of money, it would conferences around the world and ...
He had now come down, he worked on the task, everything seemed easier, he no longer felt so tired. His haste to descend marked the end of humanity. Where the rise had been prepared, carefully planned, the descent was as carefree excitement. He slipped stupidly, as always in these cases. He tried frantically to catch up, he planted his ice ax firmly but HOOK than snow and landed heavily on the ground, banged her head on something hard and he fell into an unconscious feeling gently slide down the precipice.

He blinked several times before the eye to restore sight, his whole body was screaming in pain, his head constantly hitting his leg and had to be broken. He could not see well and took time to realize that the night had fallen.
few yards above him, the lips of stones that had swallowed opened a sky without stars and cloudless. He tried to move but could only drag himself a few inches before screaming in pain. His meager forces were deserting from hour to hour. He had narrowly escaped a fall on rocks, the bag was ripped him there. He could not recover much. He dragged it anyway, agreeing large breaks. Over the hours, the moon slowly fills the space. His blue rays filled the cave and were reflected on the walls of ice. After chewing his last reserves, Vincent patiently awaiting death. The cold had now engulfed the pain of his broken leg. He was no longer alive to time and considered himself dead in order to reduce the anxiety that gripped. A golden, fleeting, attracted his attention.
There, encased in the wall, a horn. It was almost a foot long. His mouth set in gold, emerged intact from the ice in the open air as if the cold had no control over it.
The rest of his horn was pressed deep into the wall and had almost the color. The white alabaster that covered it should be invisible in daylight, only the moon had allowed him to reveal. The instrument was slightly curved with a flared end which seemed but everything was fine enough. Enough so that it examines the origin thereof. Without being an expert, he could not see what animal was a horn as long and narrow.
He had met without even realizing it, his curiosity piqued. A sudden thought struck him, he was therefore the first point in defeating the Ati Aggape?
Heat is answered in its members as a wildfire, anger swept over him. Here he is ridiculed, his efforts were in vain and he died imprisoned here, forgotten history.

He grunted in pain, his whole body swarmed by fighting the cold. He no longer felt his feet but he could still rely on valid. He was not dead yet. His heart was pounding, his ears were ringing as if waiting for his mistake came now and celebrated his visitor. He wondered for a moment if he does not delirious but in the end it mattered little. A harsh breath escaped his lips and he realized he had not breathed since he had laid his eyes on the strange object. The ice around gave the impression of waving, he did not know if it was due to moonlight or to his poor mental health.

He blinked with the impression that he had missed a moment, leaving the moon slowly opening up to the sky. It seemed to him an eternity had passed and he was harnessed to bring his lips to the mouthpiece. What a preposterous idea! The object was too depressed to be able to produce any sound and there should be the work of ten hundred men not to dislodge it. If he was still moving his lips, they remain glued to the tip by the effect of cold, but how can you resist?
Whence came this sudden hope which gave the illusion that he could release the object, climbing three meters that separated the opening and down the mountain with a broken leg, no equipment or food.

Madness! He laughed and tried to do. His sore throat which had now spoken a single word for days gave a pathetic quack. His lips cracked
, his hand went up to his tanned face and pulled his cloak clumsily unfastened buttons. He lowered his nose nervously cache, depositing crystals of ice on his lips. He pushed her against the instrument and blew. He emptied his lungs and weakened again as if he could get out of one beautiful sound.
His heart was beating so hard his eardrums vibrate rapidly in and BOOM BOOM BOOM. He blew one last time, without much hope but euphoric. The beat became more insistent, wind instruments join. The madness was at the gates of his mind and in a moment of bravado, he danced. Oh nothing too demonstrative. He suffered too much for it but that thin quivering hips and arms trembled was all he had to offer the world. The last gesture
healthy before sinking into madness, a kind of picnic to death. The music grew louder and he still wanted to laugh. Drums joined them, flutes, bagpipes he recognized now. He wanted to dance, believing that the gods descended from heaven to prevail.

There, he pricks, deformed by the thickness of the ice, as if he gazed across a thick glass with a day of heavy rain. Forms, tens or hundreds of thousands, he would have said, advancing toward him. It was music emanating from them.

around the horn, the ice cracking in quietly without a noise that could disturb the divine music. He retreated, or rather sprawled on the ground, exhausted. The forms became more and more distinct, more massive, too. The music grew louder, the mountain began to vibrate, Protestant by an avalanche that produced a distant rumble that seemed gigantic just a whisper. Nothing could match the power of Notes made the air vibrate around. He began to distinguish the first musicians. Men, and yet for giants, elongated head and hands disproportionate. The long fingers twitched over long flutes and twirling their feet between each step, performing a complex dance and agile. Others. He wanted to rub his eyes but he was petrified. Even under the impression of insanity, he could not believe what he saw. Four massive legs, each of them that reminds one beef by the size and lizard in the way of change, supported a broad hairy chest who trembled at the sound of the huge drum that hung down to his shoulders. Folded thighs nibbling distance almost like spiders. Titanic arms each supported a club that ruthlessly cut down on the stretched skin.
Others. Females whose sails were not separated from the body, which seemed to have no leg but heavy breasts that stood out and quivered as they circled again and again. It

Y'avait many misshapen beings he could not describe or understand form. Other legendary beasts, missing, impossible. He almost fainted when he saw the source of the sound of bagpipes.
Some kind of clothing bedecked dandies and head swollen like a balloon ready to explode, shining from the inside by exposing the blood vessels and worse. Teeth protruded from below, like hanging ready to fall. He closed his eyes for a moment, gained by nausea. And opened his eyes when the procession stopped and seemed to understand all sides. The music had not stopped for a moment and he thought that his heart would not rhythm. And then he saw what he thought the ice, or a backdrop or simply the distance that this effect is difficult to distinguish when the distance is too large, in short he could not see. It was a huge chest filled with arms, black silk and eyes. And when he looked up what was his head, he could not bear the sight and fell into oblivion.

Women Who Make Their Men Wear Girdles

The Night at Morwick

Small text written in a hurry on Tubular Bells.

They were there. Somewhere beyond the circle of light. The mist that came from his mouth slowly condensed to form fine droplets. He shivered despite the heat. His heart was pounding. Flares sizzled, quivered projecting light swaying who do not reassure. He breathed
bruyemment, breathless, unable to sit still. The sweat had long wet his shirt. Crazy eyes trying to pierce the darkness, he dared not blink even though he felt the pull that this effort asked. He knew he was not entitled to make mistakes, he could not fall asleep for a second. He could rest his tired eyes. One was smaller than the other, barely able to perceive shapes in the barn penumbra. He needed all his faculties and God knew they were thin. The
stronger than he had been unsuccessful and he laughed. Laughed at their folly. Who was the most crazy now?
He shuddered and muttered "I know you're here." The hours slipping away. The night was endless. Wood working and crackled. A sane man would have laughed at his fears, did not see anything and would have died, surprised. A surprise on his face mask dried, emptied of all life. He had seen piles of corpses and surprised. Women, and children were the worst. He could get by with a view adult body, but those children were terrifying. Innocence seemed to have been absorbed leaving them only the eyes and a mouth accusers identified the lips in a mocking grin. He had nightmares ever since.
He jumped for fear of allowing himself to daydream. The circle of light around him seemed to have shrunk. Flares do not take the night. They took advantage of his inatention to reduce them. He wanted to spit but his mouth was too dry. He would die without doing anything. No. "No! You will not get me. Bastards! He grabbed a torch and while turning on himself went to the door. "This village is cursed, but I am going away and nothing you can do. ... YOU HEAR? . He tripped by pushing the door, his hand dived to keep it from slumping to the ground. He rose within a few uncertain steps and turned around, eyes bulging.
He laughed, a laugh awful nervous. "Oh ... Oh ... You did not have ... back! "It seemed
distinguish them now. These faces gaunt, scornful, who surrounded him.
"Rear" cried happens then he plunged into the woods, the torch forward.
His hand trembled, his arm swept before him as if he was feeling the dark. He turned sometimes hysterical fear of seeing them fall on her back and continued to move backwards. Until it hits a branch or he feels a draft and it was still running.
Lost. He drooled and spoke without himself does not understand what he mumbled. The cold had enveloped the torch and even lower. He began to run. A pack of disfigured faces, contemplative at his heels. He cursed the sun and the gods and ran. He ran until his lungs burst, as his legs betrayed him and then he ran again.

Cute Lower Belly Tattoo

Text Forgot

I loved the Black Company by Glen Cook at the time (even if the end of the series left me a bit of marble). The very idea of having a company of mercenaries, feared, inflexible, neither good nor bad but certainly not choir boys, I agree.

I always wanted to do a little wink in my writings without ever having done so. Mostly because he must above all avoid copying and manage to make something that did his own soul, his own personality. In short if it's to do the same thing is not interesting.

However, I found a little rough mixing two desires, one of the company and that of the black man inflexible, which kills not for pleasure but because he believes that normal, healthy. A sort of hand of death that hangs over everyone.

Until now I had completely forgotten this draft so no I do not intend to continue it, whatever ... ;)

The man walked slowly on the village square. Tall and slim, her long limbs were enclosed in a tunic of black silk, the purest. Leather laces kept different sheaths on his body, each containing a gun. Shoulder pads, descending order cursive along his neck and his back.
Other men, harnessed armor dark, dirty coal, had allowed them to approach the place without being spotted. Now they maintained the most recalcitrant to the ground. One of them already bathed in his blood, we hardly noticed in the moonlight. The earth drank greedily yet "... and she did not finally get thirsty, thought hatch.
Men, women and children present trembled, they knew why he was here. They knew what he had done to Pirnuit at Tirnuan and Corpshel too. At that moment he had even not need his knack for finding the culprits, who had driven to the village seddition. Those whose mouth was filled with words like "liberty, equality, injustice" and a head full of glory, wealth and women. " He grimaced. It Y'avait young, much too much. Women too. Basically he had to accept his role or he would not survive. Plus it would sink into the rebel lands more people would be involved, the more it would have to prevail. But at the same time he was sad for them, he had to deal first with small villages to get the necessary reputation, obliged to make such, perhaps later he could show kindness.

His soldiers awaited his orders, they were probably as scared of it than those whose lives were at once in the divine balance. "Divine" giggled hatched the idea. Since when the divine had to do in the stories of men, unless a new name was found with money and power, the divine has no place here, in another world perhaps.

Her face alone inspired fear, because that's where everything came from. A dark shadow covered his right eye, hiding in plain sight as if it had been melted into the shadows. The veil was hung like a crescent moon, wedding face as if it had been smooth, non-existent. Slowly his fingers rose and unhooked the bottom, lifted the veil and tiara hung in small discrete holding it in place. He brushed his fingers gently on his tunic, as for wiping sweat, and started walking toward the people kneeling. His eye was completely obscure a reflection as it can sometimes observed at the bottom of a well while it was dark. That was the only indication that he was alive, real and he scanned the faces one by one.

He carried his stick under his nose, disturbed by the strong smell of fear emanating from the crowd. The soldiers departed on his way, that to remove the hand that held a man kneeling. Anyway in general they did not dare get up. The first was praying fervently, his face dripping with sweat in the cool of the night, his thinning hair around a balding were sticky and greasy locks Coles. ECLO overcame his disgust and looked the man over the loan. Bete yes, sometimes naughty, jowls quivering, such fervor, what have you to hide my daddy? "He mumbled softly unintelligible. He hesitated, his role was to clean the country of rebels and supporters of the Duke of Albie and not to track criminals. Yet when he turned aside to bring his eyes to another man kneeling form had ceased to pray and bleeding to death in the mud, cutting a gash ran along the throat, bubbling slightly before drying up.
His hands were playing the knife while the body fell, the screams were heard and that people were trying to flee. "Guilty, Not Guilty, Guilty, Guilty."
blades dug into the orbits, under the clavicle, slit throats. Each was entitled to a death that was consistent with its peach, long and painful, slow and quiet, fast and painless. "Peach? He giggled again, it was really time it is released to religious word and it should continue. He looked at the young boy who was facing him. Oh well he had worn one or two letters as he had found it exciting but it was not a bad fund. He put out his hand and smiled, patting his head kindly. He heard a soldier
bend double to vomit and wrinkled eyes watching the captain. It gulped and hurried to take the soldier out of sight. He did not like being disturbed in his work, is when one is upset we made mistakes. A woman was protecting her child crying. He wondered what exactly she was protecting him, she did not even when he could never hurt a child? People are so strange when they are scared. He crouched down and gently lifted her chin. Tears had swollen and biting his eyes, his lips trembled and hinted at a trickle of drool. She was still pretty, if account were taken of his prominent forehead and his two broken teeth. "Victim ... but is it forgivable? . He thought a moment. "You love yes .... What a pity." He plunged the blade gently under the heart and collapsing without a sound without a sob. He took the child in her arms and looked for a better mother to him. The previous choice was decidedly not knowing his men. He found her, terrified of course, less pretty, perhaps, just a little young maybe. She wept bitterly, crying with fear. But his face was smooth, smooth any wrongdoing, any hatred, any misfortune. He knelt beside her and asked her voice soft but masculine. "As will you take care of it? He needs a mother. You have this desire is that not? to be a mother. He smiled, spoke softly as they sat for tea and not in the middle of a performance.

Krzyścik Anna Gliwice

Hephaestus - Chapter 2 "Remembrance"

fishermen had returned to the village when they had first sighted the sails. Everyone had massed on the embankment overlooking the shore and protected the village from the wind. Theos had never seen such majestic vessels as before. They had reduced the square sails and adorned with an orange symbol and ocher. They seemed to get closer to the shore to wing their synchronized movements trains added to this impression.
Friend or Foe? Even the ancients were unable to tell. They were, against all agree that nothing good Theos but could not recall ever having heard describe anything good to share the wine vine open during celebrations of the solstice. The galleys
slackened their race, threatening eyes painted on each side gave them the appearance of a sea monster emerges from the abyss. The villagers shook against each other with the impression of being a helpless prey. Some wanted to flee or barricade themselves in their homes but the patriarch insisted that everyone remains calm and ready to welcome guests from the sea, Poseidon could send them an enemy.

Perhaps these powerful strangers they reward or at least they would save their village? A galley, bigger than other, more frightening, too, painted red and blue highlights continued his route right on the shore. The oars rose and fell in sending up sprays of water from the surface which was blue. She seemed hurt by the sea even his blows. Frisian ran a body of Theos and he was tempted out of hiding. Maybe he would have stayed with her parents?
The bow of the ship broke through the wet sand slowly before running aground. The oars were still suspended in the air with chatter and they are swallowed into the hull. The birds seemed to have deserted the scene. The waves had made docile and timid under the mighty ship. The villagers could not help but recoil as if they feared that the boat splitting the earth as he had made waves. Reflections appeared along the rail. Human cries arose incomprehensible forms and threw themselves overboard, landing a knee in the sand, head down, pointing their crest spectators, adding to the theatrics of the scene. Their muscles oiled and jutted their armor shining in the sun. At this time, Theos envied the imposing of these creatures and wanted to be one of them. The oval pads were patterned simple cursive and a wide round shield blocked their backs. On the torso, a bronze breastplate decorated with a dark pattern that seemed to bring out their skin. All the village men had skin matte and hauled men who spent their day at sea soldiers whom had skin like a baby but when they raised their headdress with a grave, Theos saw blue eyes sunk in a face and a dark beard cut framed.
The first of them had a crest decorated with a blue plume, it walked up to the patriarch. The latter drew back unconsciously. These men were taller than average and never bent by toil. The soldier wanted impassive but his helmet quivered as he wrinkled his nose. Theos, the son of Poseidon and Hephaestus not, remembered that he too felt the sea at the time and never felt any repulsion to the odor strong and candid. The soldier seemed to talk in whispers with his grandfather who knelt. Then he held out an arm core to the villagers and his men approached.
Theos panicked, he had not thought of evil away this morning to better observe the gigantic ship in the distance but now he felt he was too late to show even if he had wanted. His legs refused to carry it and it looked like the scene in slow motion. He would have loved his friend, Dorian was there at his side rather than at the bottom with others. His mother clutching her arms around his neck as if he was still a child she had to protect. Theos had learned the reason for all this later, Hephaestus the decadent needed children to fight in his name. Most of the villages that agreed to come take a tribe but the blood thirst of the city of a thousand fire was unquenchable and recruiters increasingly ventured far to fulfill their office. It was the first time that the village of Theos facing such a request and fear in the air. The disaster occurred by Nikos. The beautiful, intrepid Nikos. A fool who only liked young women who lived only for themselves and their image. As if that was one of the concerns of a fisherman. The soldiers grabbed the arm of young men and began to pull the ship. Crying and screaming when the first fusèrent mothers realized that they tore their son. All fishermen have a small knife used to scoop fish. Nikos was released on his own, Dorian saw but could not identify her mother's arms crying. Theos saw scared Nikos, the air serene approach a soldier, the knife in evidence. Nobody paid any attention to him, the soldiers were too busy pushing the grieving parents and villagers who cursed. Theos wanted to scream but no sound came from his throat. The knife plunged into the crest Nikos Soldier and as it sank into the soft belly of a fish. It falls slowly with a slight trickle of blood. The man put his hand to his neck and the blood continued to flow through his fingers. He turned around slowly and drew his weapon while his knees sagged under him. Nikos realized what he had done and walked away while the man collapsed face down on the sand against his armor suddenly appear duller. An order was barked out the swords and innocent body collapsed. While the blood
wet sand and the cries became hysterical, Theos Nikos preview that ran towards inland. The soldiers threw themselves in pursuit of carving a path through the human mass in front of them. Cutting off arms, cutting throats, gutted children. Theos saw Dorian stood before his sister in a protective gesture, forms later, but hid when he saw his friend bathed in blood, grinning red blocked his throat. Her mother still had her arms outstretched toward his children. His sister sobbed, looking fixedly before her, his hands covered with blood. Theos was always amazed to have looked over the corpse of his friend than his parents. When the sun reaches the sky of noon, he was standing contemplate the grave of what had been his life so far.
He could not put a name on these bodies lying so grotesque. The few surviving loved ones shocked clutched in their arms or crying, cursing the gods.
The soldiers were busy carry the body of one of them who had fallen. Nikos head adorned the beach, the boats were broken, houses burned. Theos was frozen despite the sun, he started hearing a rustle beside him and turned around. The man in blue crest stood before him, his bronze sword dripping blood friends and relatives. The man raised an eyebrow and mice and reached out for him. Theos is folded in half to suddenly throw up and sank into oblivion, exhausted.

Full Body Waxing For Men Rhode Island

Already?

And yes it is a lease.
In fact I've lost count of the avenger publish extracts here. The corrections were well advanced although I still qq grammatical problems to solve. I try to create a summary worthy of the name which is far from easy.

In fact I have very little time to spend months and spin. Elohai has more advanced due to a slight technical problem (the callepin I use to write was completed) and I'm finding other things to write about the new callepin. Nothing really transcendent, just enough to satisfy this need is writing. All these chapters will probably be small for all that ripens slowly, but one thing at a time.

Ethmoid Mucosal Retention Cyst

Hephaestus - Chapter 1 "First Blood"

when I will not even talk about what I write without showing a little bit. Here is the beginning of the last draft.

Theos wiping rain from his eyes with the back of the hand. His hair dripped down his face. The hot taste tickled his skin and he licked his lips almost expecting to feel the taste of tears. He tightened his grip on his gun, the leather glove scraping on the handle. He had come a long way to get there. The moment his attention was focused on the fog and the wet grass, the enemy could be heard breathing near, ahan and hit the ground feet. They came. All this was too much like a bad dream, except that his bad dreams to him were worse. He adjusted well to shield the line up against his neighbor, mindful that his elbow and his side are well protected. The final moments went by slowly, pretending the earth lulled into a gentle breeze before chaos breaks loose do.

He saw a fleeting shadow moving in the fumaroles a mouthful of soil moisture. Two thousand men were standing beside or behind him. The flower of the army of Hephaestus, the city of a thousand fires. He shivered as if he had toyed with the spine but the only love he knew gentle yet was of his blade. When an arm emerges from the nothingness he moved to block the sharp steel that fell. All took a step forward, round shields raised. A crash was heard, the line twitched, grunted, but held out ebbed.
Voices were raised but he did not listen. He remembered the last moments of his family and anger fills his veins. A second shot
side emerges with facies grinning, bearded and with a terrifying enemy. The man was sweating and elated, angry. His shoulder-length hair sent waltzing around droplets of sweat and open grin on decayed teeth made him look fierce. The ax stuck in the wooden shield, splitting the divine symbol orange and green that it was portrayed. The shock reverberated in the arm of Theos, who felt it give way, the shield being suddenly too heavy for him. He knew that it mattered little. It was only a negligible amount. Of flesh placed in expendable frontline slow down the enemy. The veterans waited calmly behind a line that even he could not cross it was sinking. It should not therefore fall. Shaking his shoulder to break free of the strap that held the heavy piece of wood, he swung his right arm in a backhand short and scathing. In close combat, fine and short bronze sword was largely an advantage over the long ax. He drew a line through the scarlet face astonished at his opponent. Blood mingled with sweat and rain, a few drops landed on his lips and he finally tasted the salt of the fight.

The body sank leaving room to another, younger, less hairy, more vivid, just as dead.
Theos planted his sword into his belly and welcomes the gentle gurgling of a man choking in his own blood. The thirst of the battle won. The line progressed. Crazy! These ignorant unable
had thought they could defeat the army of Hephaestus in the morning, out of all the fights that Theos had never attended it had breached its duty and its training. Relentless discipline reigned in the camp and it took only a few tens of minutes to align the two thousand soldiers in close order on the battlefield. Unless it was necessary so that the enemy comes into contact. And there, they tasted the fruit from contact with steel in their guts.

This noise, unmistakable, that crackled and tore the flesh. He shuddered at the memory of these sounds the first time he had heard. He had a lot less happy.
It refocus on fighting and hatred of the past resurfaces and blood mingled with tears.
He felt like crying and shouting and singing in heaven when her pain shot down his sword through the shoulder of a muscular and shirtless barbarian. The man looked surprised and distraught, he attempted to raise his arm while the blood gushed from blows to the deep gash that had been kneeling. Theos gently placed his feet on the broad chest of the man's feet and pushed him gently, looking slouch when life left the dark eyes that stared and imploring. Whatever the force that leads us in life, only the face of death account.
One foot on the chest of the dying man, the other firmly planted in the grass, he felt the shields of his companions in his back, always pushing forward. The day would be long. How long would it take for the enemy to understand that his efforts were in vain. What a man alone in the dark ahead acknowledges that he is lost?
He advanced several paces, and suddenly found himself alone. Lost in the mist and the grass, the metallic sound of combat echoing around lulled by the groans of the dying. It turned on itself without knowing which direction to turn. A brushed
launches accompanied by his servant who plunged headlong. The man pushed, kicked, threw him to the ground and remained lying there Theos, looking at the sky and the clouds dispersed gradually. The man was heavy on him but did not move, the sword of Theos planted between two ribs. But Theos not worried about it more, his eyes blurred by tears contemplating the thin piece of blue sky as the sun silhouetted in the fog and tried to expand strongly. He saw a seagull pass and smiled. He accompanied his flight into its memory, and blessed or cursed day he hid alone in the bushes covering the hill north of the village. From there he could see the sea and the place where some were slumped thin fishing boats. Unusual sight at this time they had to find the open sea to fill their bellies glistening fish. The village was in turmoil and he was amused. It was hidden and they were standing. Dorian. If he had known. His views fell out when he forgot the present and plunged into the nightmares of the past.

Tobacco Cause Diabetes

Conference on Ethics

The only text written and presentation form of L. Wittgenstein (1929)

Conference on Ethics

Before addressing the subject proper, let me make a few remarks. I feel like I'm having great difficulties to communicate to you what I think and I believe it is possible to mitigate some of these difficulties by exposing them to you immediately. First, I need hardly mention, is that English is not my mother tongue and therefore my speech often lacks the precision and finesse that would be required when treats a difficult subject. All I can do is ask you to make my job easier when trying to understand what I mean, despite the mistakes that I make myself constantly guilty against the English grammar. There is also this second challenge I want to mention: probably what many, of you expect from this conference, hear me coming, he is slightly inaccurate. To put you on the way in this matter, I'll say a few words why I had to choose my topic: When your previous secretary did me the honor to request a conference for your company, I thought at first that I would certainly be nice to do, and, secondly, that if I had the opportunity to speak before you, I should tell you something he keenly interested in giving you communication, and not to misuse this opportunity by offering, say, a conference of logic. I say "misuse" because, you expose a scientific question, I would not a one-hour lecture, but a complete series of conferences. Another possible solution would you do what's called a conference extension - that is to say, a conference designed to make you think you understand something that in fact you do not understand - and satisfy what I believe to be one of the lowest desires of our contemporaries, this curiosity surface covering the latest discoveries of science. Rejecting these options, I decided to talk about a subject that, in its generality, I think is important, hoping thereby to help you clarify your ideas on this subject (even if you had to be in total disagreement with what I'll say). My third and final difficulty is in fact the lot of most philosophical conferences of any length - is the fact that the auditor is unable to see the way the liver that he caught and the purpose for which it it leads. That is to say it or think: "I fully understand what the speaker says, but what the hell is he getting at? "Or:" I see where he is coming from, but how on earth will he do? "Again all I can do is ask you to be patient and hope in the end you will see both the path to which he leads.

start now. I treat, as you know, ethics and I will adopt the explanation that Professor Moore has given the term in his Principia Ethica. He said: "Ethics is the general investigation of what is right. "I now use this term in a somewhat broader sense, in fact in a way that includes what I believe is the core part of what is commonly called aesthetic. And to show you as clearly as possible what I think is the proper subject of ethics, I will submit a number of more or less synonymous expressions, such that we can replace all the above definition, by listing them, I try to produce the same type of effect which Galton when photographed on the same plate material a number of different faces in order to obtain an image of the typical traits they shared. And just showing you a photograph that group thus obtained, I could show you what is typical, say, a Chinese face, and I hope that by browsing the list of synonyms that I will you submit, you will be open see the features they have in common, features which are those of ethics. So instead of saying: "Ethics is investigating what is right," I could have said it is investigating what has value, or what really counts, or j ' would still have said that ethics is the investigation of the meaning of life, or what makes life worth living, or the correct way to live. I think that in considering all these sentences, you'll get a rough idea of what the ethics involved. Now the first thing that strikes us in all these expressions is that each is actually used in two very different meanings. I will call on the one hand the trivial or relative sense, and secondly the ethical or absolute sense. For example, if I say: this is a good chair this means that this chair is used to some predetermined end, and the good word that we use here has meaning only insofar as that purpose is already predetermined. In fact, the word good in the relative sense simply means that satisfies a certain predetermined pattern. So when we say someone is a good pianist we mean that he can play the music of C degree of difficulty with a certain degree of dexterity. And similarly if I say he important for me not to catch cold, I mean a cold place in my life some faults it is possible to describe and if I say it ' this is the correct road, I mean that's the correct way to achieve a certain goal. Used in this way these expressions do not pose serious problems or difficulties. But this is not how Ethics uses them. Suppose, if I could play tennis one of you, seeing me play, tell me: "You play very badly" and I answer him: "I know I played poorly, but I do not want to play better, "everything that my partner might say would be: "Oh, in this case, all is well. But suppose I told one of you is a lie extravagant, let him come to me saying "you are behaving in cad" and I answer: "I know I behave badly, but Anyway, I do not want me driving any more, "could he then say:" Oh, in this case everything is fine "? Certainly not, he would say: "Well, you better drive you want. "Here you have a decree of absolute value, while that of the previous example was a decision on. In essence, the difference between these two types of judgments appears obviously consist in this: While value judgments on is a simple statement of facts and can therefore be formulated so that it loses all semblance of value judgments: Instead of saying, "This is the correct way to Granchester "I could just as well say:" That is the correct road you take if you want to reach Granchester in the shortest possible time "," This man is a good runner "simply means it traverses a number of miles in a certain number of minutes, etc.. What I want to argue now, although it can be shown that any value judgments on boils a simple statement of fact is that no set of facts may or may not involve an absolute value judgments. Let me explain it this way: suppose one of you is omniscient, and therefore he is aware of all movements of all bodies, dead or alive, of this world, he also knows all provisions of mind of all human beings to someone the time they lived, and he wrote everything he knows in a big book, this book contains the complete description of the world. And the point where I'm getting is that this book would contain nothing that we would call ethical judgments nor anything that logically imply such a trial. Naturally, it would contain all relative judgments of value, all true scientific propositions and in fact all true propositions that can be made. But all the facts described are somehow the same level, and even all the proposals would be the same. There is no proposal that, in some absolute sense, is sublime, important or trivial. No doubt some of you will agree, remembering what Hamlet says: "Nothing is good, nothing bad is the thought that creates the good or bad. But this again could lead to a misunderstanding. Hamlet's words seem to imply that the good and the bad, though not qualities of the outside world, are attributes of our states of mind. Instead, what I want to say is that a state of mind (insofar as we understand by this expression is a fact that we can describe it) is neither good nor bad in an ethical sense. For example, if we read in our book of the world describing a murder with all its details physical and psychological, the mere description of these facts will contain nothing that we could call an ethical proposition. The murder will be exactly the same as any other event, such as a falling stone. Certainly, reading this description might cause us pain, anger or other emotion, or we could read what was pain or anger that the murder has aroused in people who were aware, but there will here only the facts, facts - facts but not ethics. So I need to say that if I stop to consider what ethics should be really, assuming that such science exists, the result seems quite obvious. It seems clear that nothing we could ever think or say could be the thing, ethics, we can not write a book that would address a scientific topic intrinsically sublime and a higher level than all other subjects. I can not describe my feeling about it as a metaphor: If a man could write a book on Ethics which really was a book on ethics, this book, like an explosion, destroy all other books of this world . Our words, as we use in science, are vessels which are only able to contain and convey meaning and sense - meaning and natural meaning. Ethics, if it exists, is supernatural, so that our words do express only facts as a teacup that never contain water as the value of a cup, even though I would pour a liter of water. I said that insofar as these are facts and proposals, there are only a relative value, accuracy, although related. Before proceeding, let me illustrate with an example rather speaking. The correct way is what leads to a goal that has been predetermined arbitrarily and it is quite clear to us all that there is no sense to speak of a proper road outside of such a predetermined goal. Let's see what we could hear the phrase: "The road is absolutely correct." I think that would be the road that everyone should take, driven by a logical necessity, since he would see her, or he should be ashamed. Similarly, the absolute good, but if this is a situation likely to description, each state would necessarily pursue the achievement, regardless of their tastes and inclinations, which we would feel guilty not to pursue the achievement. And I want to say that this state of affairs is a chimera. No state of things has in itself, what I would call the coercive power of an absolute judge. For all of us - including myself - who are still tempted to use phrases such as " absolute good, "" absolute value ", what have we in mind and we trying to express? Every time I try to get my account to some clarity on this point, it is natural that I recall the circumstances in which I certainly used those words, which puts me in the situation where you would be if my lecture was to consider, for example, on the psychology of pleasure. Your reaction would be to seek to evoke typical situations where you feel constantly fun. Because you have to Devers this in mind, all I would say you would become practical and somewhat controllable. One of you would choose Perhaps as its typical example the sensation he felt while walking on a beautiful summer day. It is in this situation I am if I want to stop to see what I mean in spirit by ethical value or absolute value. And what always happens in my case, is the idea of a special experience that comes to my idea as such, is in a sense my experience par excellence is the reason why in addressing you, I will make this experience my prime example. (As I just said, this is a purely personal and someone else could find different and more striking examples! ) I will describe this experience in order to get you to talk, if possible, experience the same or similar and thus give us a common basis for our investigation. I think the best way to describe it is to say that when I make this experience, I am surprised by the existence of the world. And then I am inclined to use phrases like "as it is extraordinary that anything exists," or "as it is extraordinary that the world exists! "Without dwelling on it, I will continue this another experience that I know well and which will no doubt familiar to many of you: that we might call the experience of feeling absolutely safe. I mean by this that frame of mind where we are inclined to say "my conscience is clear, nothing can touch me, no matter what. "Let me now dwell on these experiences, because I think they have precisely these characteristics that we seek to elucidate. The first thing I have to say is that the verbal expression that we give them is a nonsense! If I say: "I am surprised by the existence of the world," I make a bad use of language. Explain it: it has a perfectly clear and correct to say that I'm surprised something happens, we all understand what it means to say that I am astonished at the size of a dog when he is bigger than anyone I've ever seen, or that I am surprised at all that is extraordinary - in the usual sense that word has. In all these cases, I am surprised that something happened which I could conceive that it would not happen. I am surprised at the size of this dog because I could conceive, for a dog, a different size - normal size - which I'd not be surprised. Saying "I am surprised that this or that happens" only makes sense if one can imagine its non-production. In this sense, it is surprising, say, the existence of a house, when you see without having been there a long time, whereas we had thought it had been demolished in the meantime. But it is nonsense to say I am surprised by the existence of the world, because I can not imagine it does not exist. Of course I could be surprised that my world is as it is. For example, if I did this experience by seeing the blue sky, I could be surprised that the sky is blue, as opposed to when it is cloudy. But that's not what I mean in spirit. I am surprised that there is sky, whatever it either. One might be tempted to say that what I wonder is a tautology, that is to say that the sky is blue or it is not blue. But it is simply nonsense to say that it is surprising to a tautology. And this applies to the other experience I have mentioned, that of absolute safety. We all know what that means, in ordinary life, but be safe. I'm safe in my room when I can not be crushed by a bus. I'm safe if I already had whooping cough and therefore can no longer catch him. Be safe essentially means that it is physically impossible that certain things happen to me, and therefore it makes no sense to say that I am safe, whatever happens. Again here there is misuse of the word "security" as in the other example, there was misuse of the word "existence" or "surprise". That said, I want you to understand that there are certain characteristic type of misuse of language that runs through all our religious and ethical terms. All these expressions, prima facie, seem to be just dummies. Thus it seems that when we use the word "correct" in an ethical sense, although what we mean By this in mind may not be correct in the ordinary sense of the term, there is something similar, and when we say that man is good, "although the word good does not mean here what it means in the sentence" it's a good football player, "it seems there is some similarity. When we say "this man's life was worth," we do not hear it in the sense that we would of valuable jewelry, but it seems there is some kind of analogy. In this sense, all religious terms seem to be used as mock and allegorically. For when we speak of God and say he sees everything, when we kneel to pray, all terms we use, all we seem to be part of a larger allegory which represents very fine as a human being with a wide discretion, which we strive to capture the grace, etc.. But this allegory also describes the experience that I just mentioned. For the first of these experiments is exactly, I think, that to which we alluded to when we say that God created the world and they described the experience of absolute safety when told that one feels safe in the hands of God. Third similar experiment, that of guilt has been found also described with the phrase that God disapproves of our conduct. Thus we use paraissons constantly mock the language of ethics as in that of religion. But a sham to be the semblance of something. And if I can describe a fact through a sham, I must also be able to leave is the simulacrum and describe the facts without resorting to it. But when we try to leave the sham side in our case and we stick to stating the facts that remain behind, we find that there is no such facts. So what appeared at first as a simulacrum seems i1 now be pure nonsense. And However, for those who made them for me for example, three experiences which I have mentioned (I could, give others a complement) appear in some sense have an absolute value, intrinsic. But the moment I say they are experiences, they are certainly facts they occurred in a given place and time, they lasted a while well defined, and therefore are likely to be described. Thus, given what I said a few minutes ago, I do admit that it is nonsense to say that they have an absolute value. And I'll give this remark a point even stronger, saying: " That is the paradox that experience, fact, seems to have supernatural value. Now there is a path I'd be tempted to take to address this paradox. Let me go back to our first experiment, which was to surprise the world's existence, and describe a slightly different way and we all know that in the ordinary course of life, would be called a miracle. Obviously, it's just an event as we have never seen anything like it again. Now suppose that such an event occurs. Imagine if suddenly a lion's head would push on the shoulders of one of you, who would begin to roar. Certainly this would be something as extraordinary as any I can imagine. What I suggest then, once you would have recovered from your surprise would be to get a doctor to conduct a scientific review of the case of this man, and if they were suffering this would entail I'd make a vivisection. And what would have led the miracle? It is indeed clear that if we see things in this eye, all that is miraculous disappears, unless what we mean by this term is simply this: a fact which has not yet been explained by science This in turn means that we have not yet managed to consolidate this with others within a scientific system. This shows that it is absurd to say "science has proven that there are no miracles." In truth, the scientific approach of a fact not approach this as a miracle. Indeed you can well imagine any fact, it is not in itself miraculous in the absolute sense of that term. For now we see that we have used the word "miracle" in a relative sense and also in an absolute sense. I will now describe the experiment of wonder at the existence of the world, saying it the experience of seeing the world as a miracle. I'm so tempted to say that the correct way to express in language the miracle of the existence of the world, although this is not a proposal of language is the existence of language itself. But then what does the fact that we perceive this miracle at some times and not others? For everything I said in passing the miraculous expression of an expression by means of language to express the existence of language, all I did was to say that again we can not express what we want to express and that everything we say about the absolute miraculous remains nonsense. To all this, many will think of you probably find an answer that seems clear. You say: Well, if certain experiences constantly challenge us to assign a quality we call absolute value or importance or ethics, it simply shows that what we call in mind when we use these words is not nonsense this shows that what we mean in spirit, saying that experience has an absolute value, is after all a fact among others, and that everything boils down to this: we have not yet succeeded in finding the correct logical analysis of what we mean in spirit by our ethical and religious expressions. When I subjected to this objection, I immediately see very clearly, as in a flash of light, not only that no description I would not conceive the matter to describe what I mean by absolute value in mind, but that I would dismiss ab initio any meaningful description that I may have suggested because of the fact that it is meaningful. Which is to say that I see now that if these terms had no meaning, it is not because the expressions that I found was not correct, but because their essence quo was n have no meaning. Indeed everything that I wanted to come up with it was to go beyond the world, that is to say beyond significant language. Everything that I held out - and I think what tends all the men who once tried to write or talk about ethics or religion - it was to confront the limits of language. It is perfectly, absolutely hopeless and to give the front against the walls of our cage. Insofar as ethics is born of desire to say something about the ultimate meaning of life, of absolute good, what has an absolute value, ethics can not be science. What she says does not add anything to our knowledge, in any sense. But we documented a trend that exists in the mind of man, a trend that I can only deeply respect for myself, and I do not know about my life ridicule.

Ludwig Wittgenstein.

Mucus In Cervix Blood

allright Is That?

Good news since I finished the first reading of the Avenger (not shown on this blog). Quite pleased with myself, I wiped a staggering number of faults. Yet there remains so many. I have not met (for me) large contradiction and reworking (in my humble opinion) covers only one chapter that really disappointed me. There is still a significant number of repeat (yet, yet, yet .... what do I use this one). And probably a long-term grammatical and stylistic level, but at least I got to the end and it was not so terrible. I even managed to enjoy it myself.
short Eloha am falling behind but I think it's more important to finish what I started to get down to that other thing that will probably benefit most from this work and time for reflection.
short, I now turn to others for their opinions and remarks by thanking you in advance for their patience.

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Eloha - Chapter 1 "A Song"

Eloha first chapter of which was used to introduce a little dark.
Music inspiration: Goran Bregovic & Ofra Haza - Cantonero (Queen Margot Theme)

"And the first was the One, because only he was arrogant enough to believe himself. "

A soft voice and soothing rose into the air of a foggy morning. A woman's voice, plaintive. This singing was crouched on a stone wall, legs drawn up under it, covered by her skirt of brown cloth. A rough cloth in tight bodice complemented his dark outfit. Only his bright red hair seemed to accompany clam worms in the wind.
His blue eyes as clear as water from a river staring ahead. "Eloha. This name was often in his lament. Nobody could say whether this was the reason for her tears yet all would have sworn that if and wept with her. Yet the fresh air and invigorating you stung nostrils and you to tears as if it was not enough.

But she did not sing for others or for herself, she was only necrotic darkness that encircled her heart and stifled. She claimed her sentence to the hills, trees and small hamlet below.

A crow spun for a moment over it before landing on one of the gallows that decorated the town square. So far, one would have thought to toys macabre or greasy poles, perhaps, but their fruit was much more mature and oozing entrails.

Tears flowed down her cheeks, blazing a trail as the wind tried wet to dry. His voice did not weaken "Eloha!"
She sang and wept for a man than a man, a hero, a hope. And beyond that, she wept for a country, nation, even for the world perhaps.

Today's song was known to all and never stopped. No man would dare laugh about it and thus offend the gods. Yet, all without exception would have liked it ever existed.

The last verse died away in the dawn. One soldier who was waiting patiently cleared his throat, embarrassed. He did not like what he had to do, but this was his duty.
The girl more beautiful than the dawn was left away without resistance, his face expressionless. The collection would begin soon.

M Jak Milosc.pl Gratis

Eloha - The 40 gods - Introduction

Between some fixes for "the avenger" I sometimes want to write another thing, to get into another project. Yet I do not want as vague as the first (despite the fact that I plan it has changed many times and the premises were really more due to the inspiration that a well-considered plan)
J have had different ideas (which I keep under the sleeve, who knows ...) I left to mature in order to see which one was going to win. I needed something original, different.
I did not want to get into the characters followed by 5 as the avenger, too restrictive, too risky.

And finally it came out, then two and a page of history Eloha take shape. I already qq pages of notes and I am trying to make the plan. I guess it will take some time for me to have a solid foundation but I wanted to share a little insight to the rare visitors.

Here is the introduction to Eloha:

This is the story of Eloha, the greatest warrior the world has focused to date. The life story of an exceptional man. A man that every woman dreams of love
, that every man dreams of. Yet
Eloha was tortured mercenary, who had bitter than death to one partner, murder for one reason to live. Listen So his story! And learn how a young man without a penny to become the greatest symbol of his
time.

You tremble more than he did when he must face hordes of bloodthirsty Hsros, the largest army that man has ever seen. These jumpers
born a bow in hand, crossed the east to devastate the country
our hero, then kneaded it for revenge and hatred is found
idle but will not give up! Never!
is the story of the man who will change the lives of many others when he is
to be alone. Have a listen and shut up !

Denon Receivers Wireless

The situation

I am currently in the middle of my first replay and I start in parallel a reassessment.

If some here are interested in this map that I used as a basis when writing (it has since evolved primarily in terms of names etc)
Well it's handmade and as you see I have no skills in drawings (without claiming that I have for writing, I dread it more easily anyway:)) but it allows you to view events a little better.