Pediatricians In Toronto Accepting Patients

I am my own story - a story written 17 July 2007

"Io sono un essere umano. Mi chiamo Paul Sweezy. Non so di preciso quale è il mio mestiere, so che a volte scrivo e ritrovo pubblicate le cose che ho scritto. Mi pagano per questo, non troppo bene però lo fanno. Ma i soldi sono la parte marginale, il punto principale è che io sono un essere umano e mi chiamo Paul Sweezy. Voi vi chiederete perchè? Perchè credo nel valore della memoria personale, la coltivo e lo faccio con una certa onestà intellettuale. Spero che almeno questo non mi venga negato. Ci sforziamo di ricordare ciò che non vogliamo dimenticare, io ricordo di essere un uomo perchè ho paura di dimenticarlo".

Paul Sweezy non ha più di trent'anni, è un nome importante il suo, ereditato per one case and not by choice by a grandfather who was not that Paul Sweezy. It is not a boy his age, he pulls the evenings until late because the night is still hoping to find a reflection of peace and there is little self-indulgent pity, both of which felt comfortable. When he comes home and says he does for free. Or maybe not vomit. Paul uses his day job, who prostitute the pen for occurrence only useful to make ends meet. In the evening, purifies the conscience trying to see if the mantle of truth there is still some lice to comb through. In reality he only wanted to live their passions, but shyness and a little luck condemned him to this compromise. We suffer a little, but not if it makes a cross. If it does laments the lost freedom in silence. It 's the typical case where a patient man, perhaps too good to be too happy. Diligent, among other things, even if underpaid, the eyes of others believe in what he does. In fact it is more likely to do so out of boredom, or to give satisfaction to the family who took care of a child not to receive sorrows. Paul is a conscientious and diligent person, and this guarantees the cud with his sacrifice of selfishness of those who have given birth. He works in an institution, but not sure if public or subsidized. The next morning he wakes up, puts on nell'ordinarietà of everyday life and suffers stomach pain and vomiting which are not escape if you need to hurry because it is already late for something. The twenty-second of December, one day before the holidays, Paul goes to work, as on other days. It 'Monday, just finished a Sunday shaggy clouds and heavy rains, Paul is now courted by the sun in early winter, and in the Mediterranean city maintains a certain kindness in the way and makes the rigors of winter more bearable. In the mix of rhythms that swallows impatience is time to check himself only in the short distance separating her home from work. His body is less kind of the sun, giving him the twenty-second of December, one step from the festivities, an unexpected concern. A lump as big as a ball, all'altezza delle ascelle. Altre volte avrebbe detto "ma sarà", perché non è uomo che vuole avere preoccupazioni e sotterraneamente desidererebbe sapere di morire solo un attimo prima della propria morte. Ma, sarà il contrasto tra il sole e il vento gelido che sale dal mare, a Sweezy manca invece la forza di minimizzare.

"E se fosse vero? Se io fossi malato, improvvisamente pronto a morire, potrei vivere da ora in poi come se ogni giorno fosse l'ultimo dei giorni?".

Trascinato e offeso dal caracollare del pullman, arriva con tutto il suo carico di pensieri alla portineria. Lo accoglie il signor Colmann, che ha un dito d'ordinanza nel naso e un parlare biascicato in cui mischia la corrività del lavoro with that of its existence. Colmann lived for years in direct contact with the toilet and stole the style, has a shirt open at the front, which pulls the warm reception of heating oil and you can still guarantee some pretensions to be out of play-boy. When Sweezy greets him and asks how it goes, Colmann takes him off guard yesterday by saying that he sniffed petrol and now has a severe headache that does not know how to shut down. Sweezy thinks this is strange, for a fifty, but basically does not make a turn, simply tell him that his hair is slightly out of place. Colmann returns to bow to the front desk while Sweezy up the stairs.
A look from inside the university, looks like a uterus between the marble and carved cement, a maze of granite, where it is so easy to get lost. To repeat this to himself: "I am Paul Sweezy, will not be much but it's still something."
soon as he arrives on the first floor a colleague, tall, bald and tending to the thousands of cards in his pocket and takes him under his arm with his unbearable inflection by high ion begins to put his frustrations on the cross. Every person that passes is a possible target, hunting instead hunger sharpens sharpens distances and languages. But my colleague is right, even if it can not be right because it brings unbearable wear those clothes that betray its unforgivable lack of style. If you ask "who is that?" Will tell you that it is una che ha fatto carriera scopandosi qualcuno e ostenta anche un gesto con la mano, mossa con consumata abilità. Non c'è uno che si salvi, nella pioggia di sale e di fuoco, ma è una pioggia che si ferma un centimetro prima della sua lingua. Sweezy, i primi tempi, si aspettava una sua improvvisa esplosione, qualcosa che somigliasse a un fanculo collettivo verso quel mondo così schifoso e un pò temeva che dentro quella rabbia sarebbe esplosa una follia omicida e che anche lui, innocente, ne avrebbe fatto le spese. Ma c'è reazione e reazione, devi ricordarti chi sei anche se a volte la memoria ti consegna all'ignominia. E il collega ha famiglia da tenere sulle spalle, si lamenta però vanta ponti tra l'opus dei e le farc. Ostenta amicizie so different and you do not know if someone is a dick or dangerous. Or just desperate to have a shred of a machine and air conditioning in summer is a prostitute and has been doing it so long to think that it is also a normal thing. If we stop to talk to people who are newly treated as a whore, makes many of those who bow the knee seem shocks are still intact. Sweezy and can not do more than repeat his name in mind, even if he sometimes gets confused and thinks he's another. One of those who do not have the name on paper. In this jungle remembers your name, do not lose it, is repeated. The leaves, my colleague, because in the end is unbearable quell'inconcludente speak plaintively. And salt, continues to climb in hopes of feeling closer to heaven. On the next floor, two teachers and a classroom squabble over the other accused to be taken by the smallest because it is lower in rank. They look like dogs that bare their teeth for a bone, eyes transfixed behind rectangular lenses. The only difference is the illusion that they belong to different races. "Hello Paul" stop a moment because I'm polite dog, bring a moment by the teeth and then resume the dance of envy. But Paul goes up the stairs go up the more the more you feel alone and this loneliness is not afraid, because it helps him in his purpose. Remember, at least once a day, to be themselves and maybe have the strength to say.
top floor, with an old chair that has experienced a large crucifix. Walk around and masturbating, with thoughtful air of a professor. When Paul passed him, greets him but does not stop. In the compulsion to repeat the gesture, Paul sees a kind of destiny. It 'just that this great onanist is he who holds the whole shebang. But with one hand, the other is committed to restore the truth. He, at least, remember who is once per second, with rapid frequencies away from any pleasure now. Sweezy go away without making too much noise, do not want to disturb the king of hearts. Sale, up on the terrace overlooking the sea and horizon.
onanist, unexploded bombs, dogs and gatekeepers, there's nobody here. Only una linea di azzurro che divora camminando a passi lenti e ripetendo a ogni metro "Io sono Paul Sweezy, io sono Paul Sweezy" mentre all'orizzonte si vedono le sagome di isole lontane. Nel chiarore del vento di boria sembrano tante piccole sirene. E Sweezy cammina, ma non ha in testa quel canto né negli occhi quelle forme, li tiene chiusi e più il passo diventa lento più la voce si fa forte. Gridata, raccoglie la gente sotto, a dieci metri di distanza. Quando lo vedono spuntare sul parapetto pensano già male, qualcuno vuole chiamare i vigili "Presto, fate presto" altri gridano di non farlo, ma Paul non sta facendo niente di male. Non ha voglia di uccidersi, è solo che sta camminando al buio a dieci metri d'altezza e così può concentrarsi better about himself. "I am Paul Sweezy" a gust of wind pushes it down, nothing more than a thump on the ground. The contract collect his face into a smile, no party this year for Christmas at home Sweezy.

Gregory Sorgon

Citizens Bank Routing Number Manchester Nh

The meaning of life according to Franco Manzini (a black fable)

Franco Manzini had matured since the thirty years the habit of getting up early in the morning. Initially to be made that the wrong suffered a sleepless night, following custom, this custom was now a reason for comfort, a reason to go forward. Just woke up, the sun had not yet been announced by the rooster, Franco ran into the house as if in search of an object not found. Every day newspapers and sifting the net for some news to hook on which to reflect during those early morning waking hours. It seemed an officer to his corpse, a soldier of a fortress Bastiani behind which you could see a shadow gradually turned off. Yet, those who had seen the first thirty years of age, what now appeared to be a pole of a man attacked a few shreds of meat would not have inspired the mixed feeling of misery and compassion that inspires no one today would dare to donargliela. It was rather a handsome, flourishing, growing between the sun and the sea and took its origin in the long and sharp features of his muscles, in the bronze color of the skin and into an unnatural tendency to lighten hair gradually asserted its dominance in the summer. He had the character of what is certainly not sad that it delivered to the ranks of those who face life as if it was the frontman of a band, it seemed the very antithesis of that character which Kant describes as the one that comes and goes on the stage of life showing nothing more than a wimp. But life, life is a stage, changing and often do not forgive neither the talent nor the intelligence to those who have the bad habit of not abound with words. And so was Franco, a shy type, reserved man who loved solitude of secluded beaches and firmly believed in the meaning of the words he used. Franco If you said "you I love "was not to cover a gap in time between one or the other sex but because we believed in and had this unhealthy inclination to faith in the next that made him a victim easy and example of a world that was not. He wrote very well, Franco, and expressed his silence filling up with signs all that passed within range. By the sentences of Henry Miller reported on the wall year graphomaniac agendas and notebooks that he had given to his fingers, the hump of the camels. Calli calli on a verge so many messages in a bottle, a strange loner who sought to share in the silence of eternity and an escape from that time seemed too chaotic to be smart about something. Not an unhappy man, he would have said, but one that smiles with the corners of the mouth and does not let go because too perfectly at ease in adulthood and in the rejection of the logic infantilism. He had no child hidden inside, or was exercised in practice and violent middle-class dream. What I wanted was the habit of saying, mentor not aware of the unfortunate truth is the subject for those who want peace. If he had something to tell you, you can be sure that you would face, without ever resorting to the mirrors are easy to hide its weakness. No, he did not belong to that race of men who say "I love you" to fill a gap in time between the other was a fuck either one of those people who says "I stopped loving you" by proxy of a mechanical means. She had a poise that made him certain charisma, like women, Franco, like a woman, Clara who lassoed his honesty and strangled him for good, perhaps without even meaning to. Like two perfect lovers unaware of the world and its troubles, even if the world had its troubles them and some would make them weigh on their young shoulders. Franco had not thought that Clara and kept them to himself as the most sacred mysteries. "You must understand my love," said the conviction would have been enough that his blind trust in the feeling tried to keep them together forever. But Clara was not ready for that maturity, or perhaps France was not ready for that love so that from day to day, in the sudden turn of a night she said goodbye. Clara's rejection against everything he had believed, literally used it as a coat for a good season and then gave him the sack. "I'm tired of you" not to miss anything and did not tell him even in the face. He waited until he was far to make him pay all of a blow to its distance, its separation, that his love is so different that in his eyes was only indifference and cold. Clara A heat of the stage was missing Franco and those who were simply good at anything she showed that requirement in their drama of life that she tried running away unknowingly every need of truth. Franco found himself suddenly alone like a dog, repeating in the mind of old tired refrains melodic songs that never ever would have remembered if he were healthy, while the night was a black dog to bite him in the stomach and did not more sleep. Surrounded by the ambivalence of the new scenario that could see love grow and flourish happy, his tumor was growing inside the cell without any change. His body did not lose weight, but almost immediately lost tone, his stomach began a desperate struggle against his starvation. It was now like a bow out of sight and without energy that tended the space needed sadly to drop to the ground that he wanted to shoot the arrow far. The sea that had first appeared to him now accepted as a palliative, a large great blue cave down in which he tried in vain to find the silence and erase any image passed. The eternal sunshine of the spotless mind pursued him like a memory so distant as to be nothing but a timid ghost. There are those who pretend to die to feel alive, Franco now belonged to that breed of men who pretend to live and to feel something or not is not the problem arose because he did not feel anything. He noticed that everything had changed when they started to give him his legs, as if their nerve endings had gone suddenly haywire. Sometimes he could not even get out of bed, the other had asserted the need for someone, especially when the heat strong requirement on its head and its residual strength was drained in rapid moments. Waking up early in the morning he was so right to life, as if it were a human being down, which took power from the darkness while you scared of the sun. Actually I was also afraid of the dark and more than anything now feared that his love of solitude became the obsession of being chosen only by compulsion. Not that he had left a few friends, he no longer enough for anyone if they had been involved in any accident. And maybe why they called for caution, with that low whisper that had once been deep and vital. He remained, to be honest, in constant expectation of a pillar of salt, was in constant expectation of his Clara, writing only for herself and for her all that from that day onwards he could think of. At first he wrote, "Why?" Chipped up a wall of a house under construction, a few months after writing that had been buried and that because the plaster had been in like a shark's jaw to smash the bones and organs returned intact . It seemed no chains Prometheus, Prometheus with his teeth and execution of all packed into the guts torn envelope of skin that he wanted to offer still in its Clara but now she did not refuse because it was more slowly vanished. A Eurydice is not, what is worse for those who think they have some similarity with Orpheus and a huge inferno to explore every day. And that day, Franco began as usual in the mirror. Buttoned shirt with a slow pace of his fingers were going to look for those holes in the deepest darkness, arranged her hair with her hands, as he had done repeatedly during the day and then sat down at a table staring at the blank. For three long, long hours, while the news of the morning kept repeating incessantly the exact same news. And none who spoke to her. Awoke il sole, la casa dei vicini prese immediatamente vita e dalle pareti sottili che separavano le loro abitazioni iniziò a sentire lo spettacolo per lui indecente della felicità delle famiglie ordinarie. Non ce la faceva proprio a gioire della loro gioia, ogni risata, ogni voce viva che gli capitava di sentire per lui era un ulteriore centimetro di lama che passava a scorticargli lentamente i tessuti vitali. Come in una lenta tortura cinese che ti scava goccia a goccia fino a quando di te non rimane nulla che un’ultima impressione di follia, quel rito mattutino ripetuto per decenni e che aveva visto i figli diventare padri e i padri nonni lo consegnava non tanto al rimpianto della famiglia che non aveva mai avuto né voluto avere, perché amava Clara e la verità to the point that they can not lie to any other woman, but rather handed to the ritual even more painful than the memory of all the moments he could not live them next. In memory of the kisses that had not given her or on her lips now that those of other deadly sounded like an hourglass. For the first time in his life that day, announcing that sunny day in September, Franco admitted to himself that it was all over. It took another thirty years to figure out exactly what was obvious from the first minute and not only evident in the eyes of others but especially to her. However blindness also known to kidnap the brains stronger when they are deeply in love, then be like a miracle in reverse, in an epiphany di luce che annuncia tutto tranne che una riconciliazione. Allora Franco comprese tutto quello che avrebbe dovuto capire, legò un nodo a un trave nel soffitto e si impiccò senza pensarci due volte. I bambini dei vicini erano appena usciti, la madre li stava accompagnando a scuola, un diario aperto e bianco non lasciava nemmeno una lettera di addio, perché all’improvviso si era accorto di non avere più nessuno. Lo trovarono seguendo la puzza quindici giorni dopo, nessuno ne aveva denunciato la scomparsa, nessuno si ricordava ormai che fosse ancora vivo.

Gregorio Sorgonà

Hygeia Goodiebox Condoms

Politics and Life

Ieri sera a Mosorrofa, il mio paese di origine, abbiamo svolto un dibattito sui cosiddetti “problemi territoriali” che riguardano la nostra frazione. Un dibattito svolto nella piazza principale, con l’intenzione di riprendere in mano un luogo comune di discussione. Una piazza reale e simbolica se consideriamo il modo in cui costantemente i processi decisionali della politica vengono alienati dalla grande maggioranza della popolazione e ristretti dentro cerchie di elite. Una piazza, però, simbolica non solo delle proprie potenzialità ma anche dei limiti che il discorso pubblico incontra dopo anni di assuefazione a una logica della politica che tende a sostituire il cittadino con lo spettatore. Eh si perché è innanzitutto di questi limiti che mi sembra doveroso parlare, perché solo partendo da una analisi sincera degli errori che compie chi, even in its small, it wants to change this world that we will be able to do so. What is missing in this public discourse, for the constraints and restrictions that has lived, it is the policy of as "art" of the resolution of disputes through reasoning and concrete proposal. For this reason, in my introductory remarks I stated it would have been very useful and perhaps even troublesome focusing on a revival as a list of problems that were going to deal with because none of this was an emergency but if anything were all emergencies latent in some cases for decades. At a time when politics becomes a form of public space for the relief of the citizens do not go much further from having replaced the psychoanalyst's couch with flowers and fountains in a square but the fact that the call has occurred despite the stubbornness of those present to dwell more descriptive of the appearance neglecting the situation when the proposal is a positive sign of a vision of political action modeled on the shape of a state that is slowly fading, ie a state where the citizen at all levels has a counterpart representative delegated to solve instances that this 'last shows. The principle underlying this vision of the relationship between directors and delegating is the classic of the meeting, in which vision is absent or the whole principle of the conflict. Two are therefore the initial limits on which I think is important to consider: the first is the absence of the second proposal that the absence of struggle. No coincidence that these two items because I insist on the separation and almost the contradiction between their mail has been a common feature of the ideology put into circulation in the last 30 years. Almost a form of tautology in the collective, or what they wanted to impose as such, those who protested and did not propose proponents did not protest. It must be said that if this view of things was so great because the course is actually those who take the trouble to complain he did, often per sua colpa ma per oggettiva difficoltà delle circostanze, nella scomoda posizione di chi si accorgeva dei limiti di una condizione presente senza tuttavia avere i mezzi o le condizioni per pensarne politicamente, e quindi anche secondo un principio di organizzazione, il superamento. Ora io non penso che questa condizione sia un frutto esclusivo di tante dinamiche locali convergenti quanto il risultato di un processo globale di ridefinizione del “sistema mondo” dal quale ovviamente anche le dinamiche locali non sono andate esenti. È mancato e manca ancora, come ieri sera ho potuto registrare, una sorta di adeguamento linguistico alla svolta, che attualmente non mi pare reversibile, cui si è giunti grazie al cosiddetto processo della globalizzazione. A striking example is obtained by considering the constant use, then that is a resort but not as old as current issues handled, the analogy between our situation and that of the "Third World". An incorrect use, which denotes a worldview remained primarily associated with a representation of this using words cut on a bipolar confrontation no longer exists and that even during the conflict were, in my opinion, misleading. Not only is there more to the "Third World", since there never really was, but that does not even exist anymore, at least not as we know it once, is that first world where the ease of outcome was supported by an economic condition of domination, and inter-domain, the rest of the world that I think has been unparalleled in human history. Indebolitasi, I think to the point of no return, that structure also state the language awareness of the change of pace is essential if you want to understand how to react. If the state is empty of meaning if every day we see how they are produced in the body of the meshes of inefficiency that is because it held that the civil service has been emptied from the inside, and sometimes totally at times partially alienated to concentrations of private interests. That function failed, or a weakening of the function - in order not to be too ultimate - is not even the classic function of the political class, that just becomes more and more class by itself. It is no coincidence that today make use of terms such as caste, because the time necessary to say of representative politics, when its historical function is exhausted forced as it is between two extremes, is the vigorous defense of its privileges of body now separated from society. The historical process that we have lived leads in fact to a polarization between the alienation of the decision-making power to external centers of power within representative areas - first of all, Parliament - and a response that non penso andrà molto lontano se tenterà di ripristinare il passato e quindi l’assoluta centralità di quel potere e del modo in cui esso “discendeva” sui propri soggetti subalterni. Tanto per intenderci la risposta fornita attualmente da quell’area politica estesa dal Partito democratico fino ai transfughi finiani non mi pare che vada molto oltre questa visione per questo dimostrando di essere già vecchia prima ancora di essere nata. Se una delle due polarità è il lobbysmo o quello che con termine più vicino a noi potremmo definire il “comitato d’affari”, l’altra polarità, potenziale e proprio per questo esprimibile, è quella della rivalutazione dell’azione e della democrazia diretta. Per due ragioni: la prima, essenziale, è che senza di essa il processo lobbistico non avrà altri freni oltre quelli che da sé stesso si porrà per potersi mantenere in piedi, la seconda è che nella riattivazione di questi circuiti “esistenziali” oltre che politici può uscire fuori e quindi può essere pensata una forma di vita collettiva e una comune etica migliori di quella oggi egemone. Possiamo essere più felici, meno vuoti di quanto attualmente non siamo a patto di riscoprire la bellezza, la felicità del pensare in comune il mondo e magari così da poter riflettere, col senno di poi e più serenamente, sull’impoverimento non solo economico ma anche valoriale a cui ci ha ridotto un sistema, such as capitalism, which is the only one based on a leveling unit, despite extremely leveling the peaks of wealth, such as money, and at the same time, is a unit of measurement is no longer the measure of itself . Now this convergence of flattening and excess generating neurosis and wicked society, the form of action contrasts with a common vision of life less flattened and does not negate the value of individuality at the same time in the state, as capitalism , as if anything that says there can be no individuality in the presence of a leveling process of alienation of the vast majority of human beings for the fundamental decisions their everyday life. This way the steps are many and certainly not easy, but indicate a method of action or intervention does not hurt and you have to do with resolution, even if they deserve that grace the people to whom I address myself because often the best of intentions. In our, albeit small, if the joint proposal resulted, finally, is not a proposal but a single set of proposals that attempt to hold together the political complexity in which it is now more than ever explicit. Complexity in which the representative is not any less time, because its crisis trend certainly does not indicate his absolute discharge, but rather provides that in appropriate instances are not raised made only present but also resolved according to the means and availability possible. But complexity in which the other time, that of the active policy, that of creative conflict is exercised through both the concrete proposal - which in our case has been provided for at least three points on the agenda on which, however, I do not not going to dwell too long - is through reasoned forms of conflict which can be the holding of a press conference inside at least one of the issues raised, that of illegal dumping, in which we are going to put your feet directly over the face a few days to give visibility to the conditions under which poured through a conference press. The conflict should be remembered that it must be exercised in accordance with different levels of alarm and second progressive levels of response so that, in this case between the various matters raised, this will be a first step in which, possibly, others will follow. If there is something that today's policy does not require that it is the impromptu debates or protests to do good to see that we are aware of things because, mind, consciousness of things is now so widespread that it does not show serves to make us dislike or think they know (or, in other words, victims of that, to me, however unworthy, but persistent cultural ghettoization that you end up con l’essere “i soliti comunisti”, anche se il comunismo, quello pensato non quello realizzato o conosciuto fino a oggi, è ben altra cosa).

Io con questo concludo, anche se penso che molto altro vi sarebbe da dire e che probabilmente dirò in seguito, visto che il mezzo su cui mi esprimo consiglia di essere sintetici. Però un’ultima cosa la vorrei dire, un’ultima cosa che riguarda il mio presente, la mia vita e che va anch’essa messa in causa per capire cosa significa fare politica nel senso pieno del termine. Fare politica e farla nel modo in cui io la intendo, ossia nello sforzo difficilissimo ma non impossibile di rivoltarsi con l’intelligenza contro lo stato di cose presenti, also means to suffer the wounds difficult to heal. Making policy in this way for me has meant alienating many opportunities to live "decently", receiving a salary, it has also meant taking time away from individuals whose presence was a joy for me. And they are things that weigh when they are misunderstood or mistaken for unwillingness or inability to express the good that you feel the love that goes into a person through those small details so important to me but I denied and I deny often just to live with what little I have. Last night I talked, and talked about that I'm not a bad speaker, and turned me inside my head the images of just lost my love, del mio pezzo di cuore che se ne è andato e insieme a quelle vedevo anche le immagini della tanta gente che accodandosi al quieto vivere, che è il quieto vivere di un mediocre che fa cover di pessimi gruppi inglesi oppure quello di un mediocre che da piccolo voleva fare l’assessore comunale, ha però ottenuto quella felicità che a me è negata: la felicità di poter vivere stabilmente con la donna che si ama. Monia io ti ho persa anche per questo e me ne rendo perfettamente conto, ti ho persa perché non riuscivo a venire meno alle mie responsabilità e al mio modo di essere al mondo. Perché sin da piccolo non ho mai sognato di imitare qualcuno ma ho sempre desiderato – di sogni ne faccio pochi – cambiare il mondo anche against hostile forces. I do not know if I could but I know that love has meant to me that you recognize in myself that I wanted to change the world remaining accountable to their commitments, also on condition of negligible even as long as you look too hard, too long to I can give what I wanted to give you. And believe me I would have given the gift of everything I have, although I have is so little, if you had asked me. You do not understand you and maybe I know what I mean bad. Now it's all over me and left a void in our hearts as big as the love I feel towards life and towards creating a life that is not flat and imitation. If the void and the full balance each other will not know, I just know I loved you so much, che ti amo ancora e che mi manchi da morire.

Gregorio Sorgonà