Natural Cocoa Powder Vs. Unprocessed

I, Eleanor.

Eulogy

He Had A [...] lot to say. He Had A lot of nothing to say. We'll miss HIM.

I go back to the gazebo in the garden, thinking they know what I would have expected after the break in the bathroom, helpful (they drink and take in the whole body, I only watch them pee in) and the more necessary not to assist directly appointed by the imminent passing of my beloved scrolls.

But I was actually looking up the returns, mocking, any more stringently than I had been trying to avoid ... you know, anything but a detail, standing out in the garden I see the figure of Monica Junoesque that gives me away, damn it!

"Monica! I did not get heard, I was in the bathroom ... but then, what about?", And I think, as I will explain mò?

I respond but not to give the emotion I lock myself out, saving the heart and soul, not to oppose and not participate, do not even feel his words, his eyes are blank, in a desperate request quiescent sea of \u200b\u200bmagma.

Keep talking, then stiffens and begins to make a blizzard. I've never understood this expression but discreetly holds the nth power of its fury, and as she begins to ravage the garden I see them.

I see Claudio, seems to stand a blissful sleep, and I feel a fracture in his side, control of my rebuttals astro omnibus congiunzionali crashes, goes live in a bubble that remains suspended, like that scene, my knowable and possible future landslide dam and pain erupts, destroying the dikes and flows in the form of abundant water from my eyes, unstoppable.

But I stop Monica, Claudia could get hurt especially hurt and can not afford. There would be repercussions on the other side, and he has no experience in that size, if not some spark of the "Other Life" undisciplined and not understood. She will guide, and even if the other side will only I really trust her, and then tying a knot lethargic fury that suddenly stops and collapses like a puppet that they cut the wires.

Claudio is dead. When you die your life passes before his eyes. I think the definition is more appropriate for those who remain, not one who goes ... in the flood of tears emerge pitiless images that do nothing but feed all: the parties, laughter, drinks, tears, leaks, Claudio astonished that my sleep just to touch the pillow, the legendary slap on the ass ...

My head is split in so many dimensions: the gazebo, the Horde, memories, distant echo reality, the words of Monica resurface.

"It 's been out less than ten days, Jesus Christ! Eleono', but you too!"

"And I got to do? As if I could make you change your mind when He decrees a thing!"

Determined. But he decided? The idea of \u200b\u200bpushing him to go I cursed the creeps split second of doubt ... and awareness of the sacrifice for a cause greater than us poor mortals soothes my pain.

[...] Come Down. Get off your fucking cross. We need the fucking space to nail the next fool martyr. To ascend you must die. You must be crucified for your sins and your lies. Goodbye.

thank Eleonora "Eleonera" Asquino for writing this post.