Passion ...
Passion "? Passion ...
passion ... passion!
Passion.
Friday, January 26, 2007
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Amateur Night Strip Los Angeles
Blue Passion
a valley populated by air battle, old legends and uncertain future was before her eyes. The young warrior in riding, while his body was beaten by that breeze that promised adventure and the sun was shining armor challenging. Days before the parade began, looking the new momentum air teen he was crying.
warrior
His poise contrasted sharply with the countenance of the people who received settlements. Peasants finished faces, women and children wandering wandering the dry face of all illusion, hundreds of eyes that could not avoid paying attention to the brightness of the sword in the golden glow of the shield, in the magnificent presence of the rider was introduced violently in his gray atmosphere. Descending from his horse, the warrior looked at the faces of burly workers who walked toward the inn of the place. Upon entering, the shock of the tormented souls staring at him briefly paralyzed moment. Their presence, however, soon take over the place. In the heat of a fire and a foaming mug of beer, proceeded to inform local legends and beat the terrible scourges that sad town. His exuberance could not help bragging stories invented by her longing for adventure and glory. Had conquered the whole crowd with his heroic exploits and feverish, without considering that not all local eyes were fixed on him. It was when he heard the name ...
"Melshinde ..."
A thud, pronounced as cool and soft. A name that made the images more manly cut their face to something cooler than a shroud of ice. A face but nonexistent, with 2 cave wolf eyes watching from the shadows, so inaccessible that seemed from another era.
"Who or what is Melshinde?" - Said the intrepid young warrior. The shy and nervous whispers of the customers suggested a tremendous fear as if it were the name of the worst demons.
"Melshinde ... the witch who lives beyond the hills. The greatest scourge that has known very sad this whole valley" - said the old man, who after a brief description seemed more real, but at the same time, even more cool and mysterious. "The worst of the demons."
"Show me Along the way, old man "- recklessly gave the young hero, who decided to silence any voice that belittle their extreme desire for fortune and fame, suddenly stood up throwing a few coins in a cavalier on the counter. A colossal murmur filled the antrum, while looks full of radiance of fearful men doused in seconds. Some trembled.
The old man smiled.
"Before Melshinde beat should go back where you came to this damn town. If you really were ready for adventure, you should hang the sword and the shield, a long and proud to give you, you will not be useless. There are things that even a swashbuckling hero can face. "- said lapidary.
" Let me get your head, if I may, talkative old man ... I do not know the difference between a man ready for war and a poor and foolish peasant. "- uttered impetuously young fool, before observing a white, wrinkled gesture pointing beyond the hills ...
The gray sky loomed. The clouds had that cold temperature portends great events. All the land reverberated under the feet of his faithful horse, as they headed straight to the abysmal clear where lived the great scourge of the valley, following the guidelines of disembodied old man. It was said that had nothing to fear, while reviewing his shield and his sword colossal faithful. Her feet and hands tingling, restless, could not wait for the challenge that had prepared all his life. While the black cabin took shape at the bottom of the path that pointed the way to their destination, he told himself "no fail". The
black space, there was a smell of witchcraft. A fate, a mixture of magic and smoke smell purple. Dismounted, while the black cloud arose otherwise. Smaller and darker than night, her face obscured by a dark hood.
His hand grasped the sword, for sure. Your nerves and muscles were prepared for battle and without a word, he drew with his feet lightning on the ground. Still and silent. Expectantly. Two bright eyes, lighter than the moon and brighter than all of humanity together, watched him coolly from inside the abyss of fabric. He could not help that look that you caught. The purple perfume invading his senses and his hair stood on end, while the singing coming from inside the black suit was conquering every corner of your body.
Melshinde removed his hood and his sword fell to the ground. 
a valley populated by air battle, old legends and uncertain future was before her eyes. The young warrior in riding, while his body was beaten by that breeze that promised adventure and the sun was shining armor challenging. Days before the parade began, looking the new momentum air teen he was crying.
warrior
His poise contrasted sharply with the countenance of the people who received settlements. Peasants finished faces, women and children wandering wandering the dry face of all illusion, hundreds of eyes that could not avoid paying attention to the brightness of the sword in the golden glow of the shield, in the magnificent presence of the rider was introduced violently in his gray atmosphere. Descending from his horse, the warrior looked at the faces of burly workers who walked toward the inn of the place. Upon entering, the shock of the tormented souls staring at him briefly paralyzed moment. Their presence, however, soon take over the place. In the heat of a fire and a foaming mug of beer, proceeded to inform local legends and beat the terrible scourges that sad town. His exuberance could not help bragging stories invented by her longing for adventure and glory. Had conquered the whole crowd with his heroic exploits and feverish, without considering that not all local eyes were fixed on him. It was when he heard the name ...
"Melshinde ..."
A thud, pronounced as cool and soft. A name that made the images more manly cut their face to something cooler than a shroud of ice. A face but nonexistent, with 2 cave wolf eyes watching from the shadows, so inaccessible that seemed from another era.
"Who or what is Melshinde?" - Said the intrepid young warrior. The shy and nervous whispers of the customers suggested a tremendous fear as if it were the name of the worst demons.
"Melshinde ... the witch who lives beyond the hills. The greatest scourge that has known very sad this whole valley" - said the old man, who after a brief description seemed more real, but at the same time, even more cool and mysterious. "The worst of the demons."
"Show me Along the way, old man "- recklessly gave the young hero, who decided to silence any voice that belittle their extreme desire for fortune and fame, suddenly stood up throwing a few coins in a cavalier on the counter. A colossal murmur filled the antrum, while looks full of radiance of fearful men doused in seconds. Some trembled.
The old man smiled.
"Before Melshinde beat should go back where you came to this damn town. If you really were ready for adventure, you should hang the sword and the shield, a long and proud to give you, you will not be useless. There are things that even a swashbuckling hero can face. "- said lapidary.
" Let me get your head, if I may, talkative old man ... I do not know the difference between a man ready for war and a poor and foolish peasant. "- uttered impetuously young fool, before observing a white, wrinkled gesture pointing beyond the hills ...
The gray sky loomed. The clouds had that cold temperature portends great events. All the land reverberated under the feet of his faithful horse, as they headed straight to the abysmal clear where lived the great scourge of the valley, following the guidelines of disembodied old man. It was said that had nothing to fear, while reviewing his shield and his sword colossal faithful. Her feet and hands tingling, restless, could not wait for the challenge that had prepared all his life. While the black cabin took shape at the bottom of the path that pointed the way to their destination, he told himself "no fail". The
black space, there was a smell of witchcraft. A fate, a mixture of magic and smoke smell purple. Dismounted, while the black cloud arose otherwise. Smaller and darker than night, her face obscured by a dark hood.
His hand grasped the sword, for sure. Your nerves and muscles were prepared for battle and without a word, he drew with his feet lightning on the ground. Still and silent. Expectantly. Two bright eyes, lighter than the moon and brighter than all of humanity together, watched him coolly from inside the abyss of fabric. He could not help that look that you caught. The purple perfume invading his senses and his hair stood on end, while the singing coming from inside the black suit was conquering every corner of your body.
Melshinde removed his hood and his sword fell to the ground.
Tuesday, January 2, 2007
Monica Roccaforte Biographie
Melshinde
Closing vechÃculo door, leaned out the window. He threw a half-smoked cigarette to wet pavement and watched intently the left window of the building. Comparing
the gray sky with the blue wall, he felt he left a part of his heart in that place. Appearing a year after the site, that small portion of his life would have germinated in a leafy tree invisible and beautiful and beautiful moments. But there was still a million seconds to warm things happen.
the meantime, just got in the car to go buy more cigarettes and a bottle of beer. Back in half an hour, full of stories to tell, a new touch and feeling that this year all would be better. The sound of the engine was turned off as the car disappeared down the street. At the same moment, one of his friends, who shall I was watching without him noticing, he left the window with a smile. A year later, that friend would be responsible for one of the best events of his life.
The landscape is incredibly quiet. The clouds over the sea quietly start to slip, while the port is not yet awake. The cold air has a strange reverb, mystical. Almost magical crown when exceptionally perfect shape. A year later, the district would present incredible signs of decline and would be demolished.
The car turns and the front door opens. Someone from the partying face distorted looks, while the rate of car floor. 
Closing vechÃculo door, leaned out the window. He threw a half-smoked cigarette to wet pavement and watched intently the left window of the building. Comparing
the gray sky with the blue wall, he felt he left a part of his heart in that place. Appearing a year after the site, that small portion of his life would have germinated in a leafy tree invisible and beautiful and beautiful moments. But there was still a million seconds to warm things happen.
the meantime, just got in the car to go buy more cigarettes and a bottle of beer. Back in half an hour, full of stories to tell, a new touch and feeling that this year all would be better. The sound of the engine was turned off as the car disappeared down the street. At the same moment, one of his friends, who shall I was watching without him noticing, he left the window with a smile. A year later, that friend would be responsible for one of the best events of his life.
The landscape is incredibly quiet. The clouds over the sea quietly start to slip, while the port is not yet awake. The cold air has a strange reverb, mystical. Almost magical crown when exceptionally perfect shape. A year later, the district would present incredible signs of decline and would be demolished.
The car turns and the front door opens. Someone from the partying face distorted looks, while the rate of car floor.
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