Friday, January 25, 2008

Cost Of Renewing Ontario Mechanics Licence

WALKS Romania: the Mausoleum of Santa Costanza

S Costanza 1bis


Outside the city center, along the way Nomentana there are two churches that constitute one of complex most beautiful early Christian era and Byzantine. From consular already seen the spire of the bell tower of the first churches, S. Agnes, not to be confused with the homonymous famous work by Borromini is located in Piazza Navona. It was built in 342 and was erected by Constance, daughter of Emperor Constantine, even though the current building was rebuilt several times in later centuries. After a flight of beautiful courtyards, a ladder set in a quiet and soft shadows to the entrance of the second church, Santa Costanza. This was actually a fourth-century mausoleum dedicated to the daughters of Constantine, that Constance and Helen. Later it became the Baptistery of S. Agnes and in the thirteenth century it was consecrated as a place of worship. It 's rare, if not unique, find a medieval Roman church with a condition so perfect shapes and decorations. The mosaics that cover the full annular barrel vault of the nave is a masterpiece of extraordinary bill focuses on a myriad of geometrical topics, plant and figurative. When I am here as long, flowing along the walls of this place, it becomes circular. So I take this opportunity to walk, observe, reflect and enjoy its magnificent silent peace.

S Costanza 2

S Costanza 3

S Costanza 4 S Costanza 5

S Costanza 6bis

Monday, January 21, 2008

Doujinshi Hentay Naruto Shippuden Fakku

GUEST IN THE SILENCE Traveling TALES: NIGHT IN THE CITY '/ EVENING IN TOWN WHERE ARE

willingly RECEIVED AND PUBLISHED / RECEIVED AND PUBLISHED gladly



The Professor / The Professor


The moon fills the kitchen with the rays deserted, abandoned in the apartment. No one is silent and looks around the kitchen that is purified from his duties.
The moon turns red: its fire transforms the cold dishes, glasses and kitchen. None
, while relishing the idea of \u200b\u200ba coffee cup and freed from his life, he thinks that it is increasingly difficult for him to find places where books intact quiet.
Suddenly the door opens and appears, dragging four bodies, a handful of laughs.
Pressed by the blaze of items, from lamps lit too, annoyed by the flesh speaking, no one escapes.

Design and texts of N. Manzoni (© All rights reserved)

The moon invades the deserted kitchen in the abandoned apartment. Silently Nobody walks around and watches the kitchen That purifies the ITS functions.
Becomes The red moon: its cold fire transfigures dishes, glasses and stove. Nobody
, while enjoying the idea of \u200b\u200ba coffee cup without and Its Own Existence, That Thinks it is increasingly Difficult for him to find places intact WHERE quietly making His flight.
Suddendly, the door opens and a handful of laughs, dragging four bodies, Appears there.
Pressed by flushing the voices and the heateded lamps, Bothered by the flesh speaking, Nobody runs away.

by N. Manzoni (© All Rights Reserved)

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

Creative Wedding Koozie Sayings

The POST / WHERE THE POSTS GO

Big Sur2

Pictures taken in winter many years ago along the coasts of Big Sur and Monterey (California) / Winter Pictures taken along the California Coast, Between Big Sur and Monterey. A long time in August


To answer this question I give the word to a great Irish poet, WB Yeats:

All the words that I gather,
and all the words I write,
must explain their wings untiring
and never cease to fly, to boldly go where
sad, sad your heart,
and you sing into the night,
move beyond the point where the waters
obscured by storm or shining stars.


To answer to this question, I leave the word to W.B. Yeats, a great irish poet:
All the words that I utter,
And all the words that I write,
Must spread out their wings untiring,
And never rest in their flight,
Till they come where your sad, sad heart is,
And sing to you in the night,
Beyond where the waters are moving,
Storm-darken'd or starry bright.

(Where my Books go, by WB Yeats )


Monterey