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HALLOWEEN

HAPPY HALLOWEEN to you all!

In this photo missing other Halloween pumpkins and other chores, but this year I do not want to take them out again ... Who knows next year.

This however is a job I did earlier this month with the intention of packaging it, but instead, was so unfinished ...

Scheme By the Full Moon of Ink Circle, from the magazine JCS Halloween special, embroidered on linen 28 ct Zweigart silver with DMC

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This year I could not resist and I went for my "hit and run" in that of Vicenza, with another 11 in Puglia, as crazy as me!

The fair has not denied even this year is beautiful, a repository of ideas and wonder!

Of course the fair is just an excuse to meet old friends know or virtual.

And this year, in addition to reviewing the mythical Helen, Rita and Lydia met last year at the station in Vicenza before arriving all at the show, I met Manumanu, Manuciao, Sara, Argante, Vania and I have re-embraced the dearest Jane, with whom we exchanged kisses, hugs and lots of gifts, just look!

And here are my purchases;

course I regret not having bought other things ... but among all that much of God, I drunk and I can not connect ^ __ ^

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Ode to shit

I think everyone like shit, by itself it is always constipated bloated and unhappy.
And not just for the supposed stimulus organic sphincter: shit means getting rid of a burden.
Son so much what we have and we can not shake that shit puts in a better world with peace, straightens the day. So praise be
the shit that comes out from the net ass like it was oiled and slipped out with his natural speed.
Thanks be to bottling, in his soft, liquid consistency.
smile with shit spray, and artistically we painted the walls of the process as only the best Pollock could do.
And we are lenient with the crap that fails in the middle, one that will break the most beautiful, sooner or later will conquer shyness and also let us down.

This post is dedicated to coprophagous and coprophilia that every time I write the mail.
I do not have the habit of put your hands in the poop nor taste it, but I feel a distinct satisfaction in defecating.

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elderly

I'm here, his neck and stuck full of strange nervous knots.
shoulder moves little and are prey to painkillers.
and think that tomorrow night I wanted to dance.
hard as I imagined an old woman in fishnet stockings and gown last, leaning against the wall.
sad that image.
shitty.
even smelly.
are combed like Dave Grohl plus a touch of Frank Zappa.
someday I may come back to me woman.