Transition Lenses Stop Adjust

7 7 Werktag

And when I say 7 is 7. POINT.

I wanted to write about Africa, on pain of Africa and of Africa, but this episode just happened to me has evaporated any poetic purpose. It will recover but now I need to say that here in Germany, things are so efficient that, for better or for worse, sooner or later, you will pay this dear efficiency. Specifically

today has cost me about 65euro which is what I paid to receive a parcel from Argentina which also arrived late, when I was already in Africa and after 7 days 7 has been diligently and promptly sent back to sender in Argentina. Got it? In Argentina, not in Frankfurt, but across the world. No matter, 7giorni7 and stop.

So happens today, I introduce myself to the post office across town to pick up my package full of happy tango (which by the way I would be served within a week) and what they tell me after 5 minutes of embarrassing research in microscopic drawers (each box contained something like 12 CD) is: "We sent back because they are provided for the past 7 days interval between the delivery of the mail and pick up the package at the branch of competence . We can not do anything and she can only to reply to the sender once it has received back the bundle can return it to him (omission, at my expense). "

not bat an eyelid, right?
I insisted that they would track down and stop shipping the package but it seems impossible. Efficient but not available.

And while I figured my CD's floating in the Atlantic, dazed and forlorn as those who have waited so long and in vain, and will review them as if those who knock on the door, I felt proud and imperfect and imprecise and approximate.

Why I say who cares when efficiency is not accompanied by common sense?

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A name, a destiny

The jokes and when 'little ridiculous to have something on time but all those I have heard from large, I have forgotten and those still there I have fresh in mind. One for all of the 'Phantom cheese '. Mah. Maybe it 's just that when you're small, you'll just laugh and grab every opportunity that ur Supposed To :) And then there were those who began with "You know what' the last straw for .." . And here we were using in the minds superfine get up in style, always inventing new ones. I remember also "The names of ...":" You know what it's called the most 'famous Chinese shooter knives? "," And his wife? "," And his son? ". And down 'a laugh that seemed paid.

Yesterday I went with my new gynecologist. New 'cause, and what was' retired. I introduce myself, my visit, so good. We salute you. It 's great, I think. And I 'went well this substitution. Esco and tram I regard sheets, recipes, etc.. My eye falls on the stamp, with his name and everything else. I can not believe! In a decade of decline, I find myself surrounded by smart eyes of my little friends in the courtyard, with your knees dirty and scratched the ground and say: "You know what's' the last straw for a gynecologist? Call Mrs. Dick!" :)))
I wonder 'if they happen ... they are really small. Pero 'they laughed!

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Affinities' (IN) ELECTED

ausg esprochene jedes Wort den erregt Gegensin

Every word is pronounced suggests the opposite. (Maxims and Reflections from , 9)

When I meet the "special people", I think by default the celebrated novel by Goethe and inevitably, when I lose, I think about it, quite the contrary.

stone embedded in the rock, the "special people", to acknowledge them once in the darkness of the mine and you, you approach the moth lamp, disarmed by his own consistency, one by one incredulous discover the many facets of the perfect crystalline form: every It reflects like a magic mirror the best of you. Stand next to it, put his hands in the field more alive and vibrating.
The world next to her is perfect.

Then something happens. Something always happens. Orpheus turned around and lost Eurydice forever. Just looking at her. So, for anything and everything, you also lose the street. Try to return there, looking for her, call her, the string you hard, but you feel desperate cries only muffled the sound of your desire. Have you lost. The love and let it go because you know that "man can have less of everything that belongs to more closely" ("Elective Affinities, Goethe). Skip

everything. The time, desire, a thousand other people.
You turn around and watching the road, you see there, intact as the first time you met her in that short piece of light through life together.

large tracts and short.
All together, the "special people" are a band of light.

But you ask, but I'll always be in his band?
I've chosen, but she? I was really elected? Because I do not speak here of love stories ended, sex and the other that leaves little room for imagination and speculation. What if you lived there was a story in itself, or if he is lucky if they still live now. I speak of what was not, of those people who have loved deeply and Plato and that you could not keep you in the next life, even if you wanted.

What will they? You remember me? I will be part of their dreams? I still love it?

I'll never know but you know that for me you are still wet with tears that deep smile happy.