Fra' Tante Storie ed altre ancora...: ENGLISH VERSION

children
                                                                                                                                                             living their childhood
                                                                                                                                                                 with the toys of this world
                                                                                                                                                               I Forget to fantasy ...

Friar 'Many Stories:

There was once a monk who lived in a monastery along with other brothers and when he went through the streets of the country to do some shopping, was always surrounded by children attracted like flies to honey by telling them stories, some longer, others shorter.
The children enjoyed themselves very much to hear these stories.

Some of these I happened to hear them tell myself when I was a child and still almost remember me.
I try to tell to you that I hope I do not want to hear if you get tired because you can find some 'out-dated.

Stories of plants and animals

A fly naughty:

It is known that flies are curious babes: when they can put their paws all over the place, fast as they do not give people time to cover the food that they cooked, you rush over to suck out the flavor.But just because they are always in a hurry are not worrying about cleaning their paws after they have been playing the shit of the cows in a meadow and come running to buzz around to making a cake cool after baking.People do not like to eat slices of cake topped with the footprints of some kind of filth flies. In fact, the good people care a lot about hygiene before eating and wash their hands and eat only using clean utensils.
Mrs. Domitilla was a superfine cook for themselves and cooked delicious meals for her husband who were in seventh heaven to reach the palate. He knew that it was better to keep the flies away and to do, before they started to buzz, positioned end to the retinas of windows, screens calls, which did not allow access to the hornet flies from flying insects. The smells of cooking food that floated around the house after leaving the windows open and the insects attracted to the aromas were inviting. They were all crowded in front of the nets, trying several times to enter.The more insistent, needless to do it on purpose, just the flies were all devised to force access. But every time I tried banging my head on the retina without being able to achieve any appreciable result.
A fly had peg in particular in the enterprise and more of the other tried to enter. He had been nicknamed "spiteful" because of his cheeky character which made it all too insistent.By dint of hanging around the windows and walking up and down over the mesh of the nets at the end in a hidden corner of the kitchen window, is a small gap that allows it to pass, holding their wings and pushing force.Other insects that were tired of groped, suddenly have found if the other side of the mosquito that buzzed happily mocked them and threw it several times on dishes which had prepared Mrs. Domitilla.
Envy already snaked among his fellows for the result reached, but when the buzz had attracted the attention of the exasperated woman's husband, who, armed with a shovel, to fly the mischievous played a thrashing in a hurry, not even giving time to fully enjoy the taste of victory he had achieved short-lived.
Ants that have collected in the grass dying from lead in their supplies for the winter store of the future, the fly has almost spiteful words could utter a sigh and left you so vain glory.

The toad with a tie:

Around the world

lived in the pond a lot of creatures, some larger, others smaller, each led his life trying not to be eating and eating itself to avoid starvation.

In this tangle of interwoven lives in the cycle of life, the story I'm telling the incredible circumstances of the strange clothing.In this pond where the toads croaking led their lives and eating dragonflies, flies and other insects, one day one of their better looking in the mirror of water on a leaf, he noted that to stand out from the multitude of toads which resembled early too much and to give himself an air of elegance that would have highlighted the aristocratic character, which was the case procure an item of clothing.It is crafted with his own legs, not without having to overcome many difficulties, a tie with a long narrow leaves, improvising a node in memory is unlikely, since the first time it had happened under the eyes a piece of paper in a journal in which from a photo you could see a tie.
When it came to other toads, all taken to hunt for dinner, I hardly noticed him. Then perceiving the particular, began to croak louder and louder, amused by the idea buffezza. In memory of toad we had not ever seen who wore a tie. Moreover it seemed to be very lengthy, time coming to touch the ground between the legs of the wearer.
He felt satisfied with the figure who did and did not care whether he felt the croaking of amused derision around was: definitely a toad would feel much more attracted to a toad so elegant.All these conjectures made him almost forget that it was time for dinner. The other toads had long since chosen the places around the pond and had tended their traps with different languages and had already eaten insects. If you do not want to stay dry mouth was also the case that you give him to do, the more that his stomach had begun to grumble.
We chose a place and stationed himself there with all his tie that fell on the feet, calmly set himself to wait.After a while, 'a fly came, he made the leap to grab it for the flight, but the tie between her legs and tripped him instead of jumping up, he found himself rolling down and into the pond.When he emerged from the water dripping, and livid with the bad impression, beyond the fun of all the croaking of frogs and toads happy brigade of the pond, you had to put up even the excited buzz of insects.Not only is the fly that had failed, but other insects, usually helpless prey, made fun of his tie.
After that day, which would hardly forgotten, no more was seen in the pond frog with no tie.

The nut with the umbrella:

We know that sometimes the animals would like to express a particular sensitivity of mind that their condition of life is often caught between the need to hunt for food and survive the attempts of predators does not allow him to drive them.Snails are also very delicate animals: they do when they walk in silence, leaving a wet trail of their passage.They love the rain, in fact, during and after storms come out of their houses and walk on the wet ground happy.
But it can happen that some of them do not like getting wet when walking down the drops that fall from above.In particular, a snail which to shelter from the drops that fell from the leaves high on the eye under which he was to pass, the idea was to build an umbrella, a beautiful colored umbrella. Do not ask me how he did, because I do not even know.When they saw the other snails take shelter under the umbrella holding colored mouth, laughing and pointing out with contempt could not be one of them if you do not comply with the behavior at any cost and wanted to express their own personality.
We know that the snails after the rain come out and walk on the grass in search of fresh grass to eat.The farmers also know that after the storms that sometimes ruin the crops, go out with big bags to collect snails to do with sauce or broth, without even much effort.
The farmers are happy when they can not sweat. Still bent over the fields to hoe and till the soil for crops that sometimes there is little or do not arrive.
A farmer who went out after the storm with his bag to be filled, we had already put a lot of nuts, when he suddenly came upon the snail with the umbrella: you can imagine his surprise.
There is a saying about the peasant shoes and big brain up.Often forget those feelings felt by people, by merely labeling them as if they were bottles to keep the windows.
That farmer realized that before an animal that expresses their own personality. Often people do not care about the animals they face, take them and cook them just as if they were already good food to eat.That farmer was moved in front of the spiral so refined and in spite of his empty belly and his stomach grumbling already, instead of continuing to collect snails, he decided to come clean and set free all those animals that had already captured.
The other snails that day also learned to express their artistic veins fabricating many colorful umbrellas.
If so often happened in these parts in a rainy day in autumn do not be surprised to find so many colors in the green meadows, the flowers are not, but the umbrella of the snails that you walk in the middle.

The leaflet did not want to fall:Sometimes the natural unfolding of things undergoes sudden stops and exceptional that prove the rule as usual.Just as children sometimes do not want to grow and extend the lifetime of the carefree life of childhood and old who came near the end of their service, they would continue it indefinitely, it can happen that a leaf on a tree waste to detach from the branch and dropping on the ground.
It so happened that he spent the autumn with the leaves falling one by one after you greet began their journey back to the land that had generated. But while the other leaves near disappeared from view, a leaf a bit smaller than the others, he insists on wanting at all costs, remain attached to his arm because he wanted to see the spring.Spring she had not yet seen, or rather, not being sprung early with the other older, had missed the beginning of spring, the older one that they had described as the most beautiful: when arriving from away the swallows build their nests.
The few remaining leaves felt near the time of separation from the branches and could hardly restrain their limbs blown by the wind.The leaf faced the challenge with courage: no one had ever exceeded the limit leaves of autumn, and none of them knew what was next.Their existence was marked by a beginning and an end marked by the spring and autumn.Winter, the season was described as a terrible unknown from the leaves of evergreen trees, none of them could know nothing. In that part of the year the tree fell into a lethargy that allowed him to survive and wake up the following spring.
The fall was over. The sudden temperature drop had caused the fall of the last leaves.He was left alone.Attached to its branch, without the sap that harbored, supported only by the desire to know the spring.It was winter.A few days began to snow. The leaflet did not know the snow, he felt the weight of ice on its edges by those soft flakes falling from the leaden sky light.Alone on a branch covered with snow, set in a surreal landscape that no other had ever lived, was waiting.
But what he would have to wait?The sky had cleared and the sun shone free to expand its rays, but the warmth that he could give was a very small thing: the temperatures were low and the leaf was completely frozen.The few animals that she saw that walking, jumping or fly were all numb and desperate as they roamed in search of food.Left imprints of their passage, but were then deleted.
The wind had been blowing strong.More than once he had thought of letting go, falling to the ground as all her sisters who had left no trace. But every once prevailed, and the desire to continue to remain clinging to his arm with all his little strength.
Little by little he was accustomed to running the cold days.It was passed in January with his days spent alternating ice and wind to rain in February, but still cold.
A little of the warmth began to feel the beginning of March.He had the feeling that his long and lonely waiting had come at last to an end.In fact, after a few more days, the warmth was gone early on by becoming more consistent, as if to emphasize the slow, subterranean entrance to the spring.On the branches of the tree where she had been desperately clinging to this brave and stubborn leaf, had sprouted small gems reflecting the gradual awakening of the tree. Inside the sap had begun to flow.
She was all wrinkled, had a mirror to look at, but spent the winter if you could hear everything on him. The margin of its surface was torn in several places: the ribs had held with the strength of desperation, but would not be able to deal with another spring. It was already too worn to be able to provide photosynthesis for which it sprang.
It was spring, one by one they had opened the buds of the branches of the tree and began to be tinged with green. The leaves first saw the light of the warm days of late March.In the sky you could see the flocks of swallows returning from distant lands of the south where they had gone to spend the winter.
The leaves were growing, and slowly took over the green on the branches of trees. The young leaves happy smile warm days in which to germinate and were looking around they had noticed in the leaf wilted.They had asked curious why it was already so old and his answer almost did not believe at first. Then they began to be talked to her adventures, how he spends the entire year in the life of a tree.Had become their elder sister.In all branches of the young leaves of the elderly listened carefully to stories leaf.
But all the time go by.The spring had already sent in the days of the end of April and leaves on the tree all the young firm commitment to working with photosynthesis.The only unable to do so was she, the little leaf of the previous spring.
He knew it was time to fly away from its branch. He looked around again, as if to say goodbye. He wanted more, but the cycle of life can not be blocked.The young leaf was ready to sprout claimed its space and pushing more and more did disconnect the elderly that had been so long clung to his arm.A gust of wind took her sweet delicate and made him take a wider path, almost to want to watch from all branches of the tree.On the other branches of leaves moved several times with all the branches.It was a beautiful greeting worthy of a personality.
The land received her with a green carpet dotted with color.And the landing was soft.
It is not known what became of her.But still, if you happen to those shares, paying attention to the leaves tremble in the wind in the spring, you could listen to this story.

The spider artist:

It is known that some animals have in their chromosomes of artistic trends.
The spiders are great such as packaging of the paintings from the mesh geometrically perfect that they use to capture their prey and then eat slowly.

A spider but from the earliest paintings packaged, tended to express something deeper. Rather than capturing its prey with its paintings trying to capture something that impressed him about what was around. To do so, once wrapped the cloth, instead of waiting secretly in the middle or at another point that the prey to fall into his net, he continued to finish it until the shirt became so narrow as to become a surface on which you could also paint.
Shortly thereafter, discovered a way to bring out the colors, he also began to paint.

Portraits of intent to wait spiders in their webs, flies in flight and approach, and other images of her little world of spiders but expressed deep and significant points of view.

But no one can live without eating even a spider with a passion for painting.

As luck would have exposed the works were noticed by a queen bee in flight with a whole swarm toward the new hive. Was delighted by some paintings, he decided to buy them in exchange for honey and royal jelly. The poor hungry spider could not refuse.

From that day the word spread throughout the district and many animals began to buy paintings from the spider.

The spider lived for a long time and was very happy because he did what he felt inside and was not forced to live imprisoned in his destiny.

The spider hanging:
In the car of a long-distance passenger train in a compartment near the door, hung a small spider in her thread.
The movement of the train and the comings and goings of people who had entry and exit from the compartment they had not left alone to weave its web.
Still intent on his purpose was not to be away from all the bustle around him and tried to conclude his work, however, already having started several times.

Exasperated by the inability to succeed in the end, he preferred to move to another corner quieter.

The dog sbrindellone:
There was in the streets of my neighborhood used to carry around dogs for their needs at fixed times from the availability of their owners.
Dogs that they needed to do the poop, had to wait inside the house taking care not to soil, otherwise they would be put in detention.
Typically the owners of the dogs took them for a walk in the evenings, so that way, if you mess up the sidewalk, no one knew who he was and if it happened with his feet on it, some could only upset victim, without being able to blame anyone.

Instead there was a dog when I met him was always without a master.
Hanging around in the morning, happy running along the sides of roads.
He would stop occasionally to smell and kept her head hanging down, leaning on his shoulder, with his tongue hanging out, looking quite cheerful and funny.
Meeting him made me happy all day.

The fly on the nose:
A child who could not stand anything, could not let anything, not even a fly would settle on his nose.
For this reason, arguing over nothing with the children he met on his journey.
Nobody wanted to deal with it.
The child was just always in the company of his quarrelsome and rowdy, without a friend who could tell him that nice little words soften the soul.

Stories of people

Mr. College:We parents of today, often desperate to be able to make ourselves heard by our children, so naughty and mischievous, always intent to rely on video games and gadgets of glamorous people, we never know how to convince them to do what we ask.
One day, having exhausted the arguments and threats at my disposal, I picked up the phone to the AL and opened the letter C, I started to scroll with your finger followed by the eyes to reach the page with, where a sudden I stopped by last name College.
Mr. Ezekiel College seemed like a promising name. I dialed the phone number with the telephone keypad. A voice on the other hand, I replied politely. I apologized for the intrusion, I exposed my problem and the solution that I thought prospettai.I waited a moment, then came the answer that I did not expect: it was fine.
When I need, I could dial his phone number and expounded in what my son does not listen to me and how I wanted to punish him, then passed the phone in the hands of my son in his stubborn mischievous intentions. Mr. College pranks reproached with the deep voice of my son and threatened him that he would send for a team specializing in capturing children impertinent, those that attach to the lamp so as not brushing your teeth.
My son looked at me more and more scared and listened in silence what would have happened if he had continued to persist in its purposes.At the end of a chapter.
With the passing of time grew in him the reasonableness and phone calls to Mr. College became more and more rare, because sometimes only the threat was enough to lift the handset and dial the number.

Today Mr. College phone to keep him company, every now and always continued to thank him for his kind availability of time to the reproaches that have helped make a man my son.

Miss Patience:

Years ago, next to the building where I lived as a child, there was a low house, built in the style of a turn, surrounded by a colorful garden of many flowers of all colors.
All children who passed the fence of the house were attracted by the colors and smells that came from that place that seemed enchanted.
There lived a nice little old gray-haired, when he was out of the house, politely greeted everyone who passed on the road.
Sometimes invited them to come to taste the cookies or slices of ciambellone that prepared.
Even the most unruly children, those who throw stones to be clear even to the clouds, when they went outside the gate there, they forgot their lively and seemed well-behaved children.

Even people who knew next to that great lady she was more relaxed and do not bother, when they passed the house on foot, by bike or car, going more slowly and spoke softly.
They were quiet times when people walked slowly, savoring the taste of the steps.

Many years have passed since then, the roads have become too fast and people will run without a trace of their passage, all taken to reach and more distant goals.

That young lady I have not seen her since. I went several times before that stretch of road, but do not recognize him: the colors are faded and smells are gone.
He may have preferred to move house, looking for a quiet corner in a world less breathless, far from the din of children who can do less and less children.

The lady with the eyes closed:

At the metro stop was a lady who kept her eyes closed as he led her down the escalator: he could not bear to see from all those sad and gray steps followed each other at the beginning without end.
In the eyes closed holding, was free to imagine being a child and still run on the beach to meet the sea, in a sunny afternoon in which he quietly cradled the sun between her soft waves. Castles and fortresses built by the children of sand, holding the hand of a small doll to accompany ...
... Other people that were around, they passed on the side: they had no time to lose to imagine.
When the step where he began to climb, then down to disappear into the floor, opened his eyes and fell happy to be refreshed and promptly stretched out her hand to continue his journey, filled with the courage to be herself, even in the face his fears.

The Lord of the meal:
He walked to the underpasses of the city holding a sack of flour open, looking for a place to mix in peace.
Away from the bustle was looking for a suitable place to mix with water and yeast that was not.

Still looking and perhaps will, but in this city so large, that can not stop in the procession with its boundaries ever wider, it is to lose to try the simplest things, that seems no longer manufactured.

Child to whom? :
I am large,
As much as my father
And maybe more.
I surf the internet without fear
To shipwreck sites of unknown
I do not need lifeboats
Rescue.

It 'true, I have ten years to the time,
But the clothes I wear
They are never happy
If a friend buys the best
I do not want them to stay out
From the group in which I live.

I have the phone and use it often,
I spend money I do not care
Now.

At the end of the day I like to go
In the evening disco End worthily.

The Big mouse of teeth:

When children are afraid to pull their own teeth that move or are unwilling to have them pull from their parents, have to go Topolone of the teeth, which has the right equipment to get them out without hurting.
In the study where he practices his profession, the walls are papered with degrees, diplomas and certificates that demonstrate its capabilities and serve to reassure that big turn for care for their teeth that are sick.
Children, however, need to calm down to discover that the being who hides her face behind a mask and wearing a green gown, even if strange maneuver tools, do not really want to do them no harm and does nothing if it does not resemble its a big rat, as they thought it was.
Too bad that instead of receiving their money from the Tooth Fairy from milk, in this case the parents have to pay for the service Topolone extraction of the teeth of their children.

Grandfather's Dream:

There is a place where all the grandfathers and grandmothers who have not had time to embrace their grandchildren, they can meet and take a walk, holding their hands to beautiful green lawns and colorful flowers of many shades of all species.
This place so far from the hectic days of this world, retains a sweetness that is not easy to find.
Narrow space, between sleeping and waking, in that sublime light near dawn each morning of every birth of a new day, when the hopeful optimism of hope clears all the sad thoughts and makes bridge capable to overcome any difficulty, at that precise moment, these grandmothers and grandfathers all these, of which barely kept the memory of the grandchildren of the features of the face, happy face, and caressing the soft tender their faces asleep.

Spoiled children:
They are like stubborn mules
Who grind their teeth
If you are not content with
In their whims
Hooves slamming to the ground
To break up the floors.
The desperate parents
Try with good
To make the reasoning
And because they are
Not even to listen,
Believe in their reasons,
Eventually they put them in detention
In the stable in the company
Donkey, the duck and pork,
Three guys in terms of persistence
The world is unmatched.
Maybe in their company
They understand that the bottom
Asking the parents is not
so bad
And eventually stop beating so
The fists on the table and demand
That everything is due
Without their part
There is no contribution.

Mr. I:

Every now and then peeps out between groups of people all got a strange kind to show how the first is the best person to suggest exemplary behavior.
Is not willing to listen, in fact its pomposity often assumes the tone of conceit.
All other places in the line as insignificant as you can not repeat anything.
Often he finds himself alone in front of a mirror as chatting and continues for hours puffing out his chest proudly, showing all the medals won.
The children who approach him are infected and that everyone would always give them straight, even when they say only fantasies.

The child from the pass all too quickly:
He was accustomed from childhood to proceed rapidly, stimulated by playing games that required him to be ahead of times and not stay too long, to fantasize.
It was necessary to grow quickly, to eat snacks and cigarettes, interspersed with video games looking more and more subtle.
The computer then fascinating, bewitching in him the desire to chat further and further away from his childhood.

And 'grown up without noticing it, already running in the office with its fast pace.

Children chasing that ball
Driven by the wind likes to take
Around into believing that stops
It instead takes to roll forward
Farther and farther from their steps,
He tired to continue playing
With a guy like that naughty.
They would like to sit and talk, but these
He listens to them and continues to blow
Breath, so much so that they can not
Competing ...

Stories Games

The paradise of broken toys:
Toys that are broken by the children when they get mad because they get what they want, often can no longer be adjusted.
The pieces that remain on the ground are dangerous and parents gather to throw them in waste containers.
Children looking after toys and I would like to continue playing, but they are gone.
The flowing tears from their eyes would want to erase the time spent on break.

What remains of the toys are picked up by parents who do not have the money to buy their children lack the minimum to survive.
Their children, dressed in hardship, smiling happy to meet these new toys and care for them and surround them with attention as a haven and no one pays attention to the injuries that limit their movements.
The blue skies of serenity envelops those ragged children and their new toys broken.

The game on the TV:

Children parked for hours in front of the glowing gray box called television, sick of being abandoned in front of idle programs only so many cartoons are consumer interests, pushed the button and left all those gadgets remain in the tube, trapped in their worlds .

Have fallen from their homes on a lawn and a big cardboard and sought after have been modeled to make it look like a TV.
In turn, they improvised and recited by the characters to those programs, and, above all those endless ads that break up their favorite cartoons in miserable rags with no rhyme or reason.

It is a great time to do the public that the conductors or the actors improvised performances. But above all, they appreciated the freedom to communicate with a TV that responded to the demands of spectators and not required of programs that you could only see in front.

The afternoon of that game lasted too little and would like to repeat it many times, too bad that the board broke.

The war game:

Children playing at war
with the mouth when they bang
shoot and pretend to die
do without the big event
their game.

Instead, when the great war are
Children who are in the middle
with real bullets that are fired
often can not do without
injury or to die for real
not whether they like it.

The great-grandfather's toys:

Stacked in bulk in a dark and dusty attic, leaving just feel the essence of joyfulness that lived around.
Far from the way we express ourselves, just by touching them feel the smoothness and feel the solidity.
As the games that were made and which still keeps it as memory.

Wax tablets:

For children it is easy to learn: curiosity is so extensive that sucks everything in its path before his feet, as the mother's vacuum cleaner that, when passed, will not leave even a crumb.
But around it are always lots of toys scattered on the floor and furniture. The mother is vented to say to put in place: these boys can not contain himself and exuberant burst.
The laughter of children playing serene, humanity needs this machine down times and the steps Times, canning seasons.
Among cellophane bags and plastic dishes, the free imagination of childhood allows us to breathe again.

Fantasizing the path:

A child had just pulled off an elephant, so big that it blocked the entire passage. The wide-legged treading the ground and leaving deep footprints. The proboscis long, raised above his head, grabbed the crown of neighboring trees, tearing whole branches.
The child was still worrying about the damage left by his thoughts: If you happened to pass by a parent could be upset. Instead of the elephant, there emerge a mouse, a small, gnawing on something in the footprints of the elephant. If now the mother arrived, they were certainly blows: the mice could just see them. The legs were small traces left in the dust of the path. A cat, black as pitch, was instinctively attracted by the smell left by the mouse and began to follow in their tracks with stealthy step. If now passed his uncle Frederick, he would surely screamed: he could not see cats, especially if the black fur.
A gorilla, tall and strong, advancing with sure-footed. He had stopped and his hands clenched into fists, beat his breast, to frighten people.
On the path had been a banana skin.
Surely they would have yelled at for this, someone could slip and fall to the ground.
About to slip, a cobra, looking not quite reassuring, approaching towards the child, who was starting to get bored of all his fantasies.
The mother's voice saved him just in time, the cobra had pulled up and was preparing to strike its prey.
The path was a corner of the garden, just ajar between a rate and a magnolia tree, populated mainly by ants.

The Kids are mischievous believe interesting
because they are placed at their own discretion
the exact center of attention.

But the attention that he looks like?
You do not see around often, and those few times
that fails to meet that is hard to leave
hold for long.

Stories of words

The hotel of the words:
There is a place where the words of a language are contained: the vocabulary, also called the house of words, or rather the property of words.
But it can not find hospitality with all the words, but only part.
They too must pay rent to be housed, a little 'like people.
The rent they pay is that they are used by people when they speak or write.

If a word is no longer used in the vocabulary then it is evicted from his place is occupied by new ones: the so-called neologisms.

those that are not used are defined as obsolete and their use is limited to people who love to tell Expert in the language because they belong to their cultural heritage.

In the vocabulary that is hosted every word has a space made up of words that describe them, as wide as is necessary to accommodate all its meanings and connotations that it is able to express.

Next to us the words they are not free to be what they seem, but are subject to what the director decides: who becomes obsolete for lack of use is taken out of the door with all his luggage, without being able to continue doing nothing to stay, even if he starts crying or beating her letters on the ground, as they do at times when children want to be listened to if no one pays attention.
The words that are no longer spoken or written can not complain because they have no voice.

If today's children wanted to, it may not be able to drive many from their hotel. It would suffice for one thing and learn to write so many and all different, but always use more of the same few, as do their parents who do not strive in speech or in writing for not wanting to tire the mind in the search for them and say in the language.

The lie with the short leg:

When children lie, they say that they say of two types: either with a long nose (to Pinocchio, for instance) or with the short leg.
But because the lie has short legs?
The kids think because it is small, but it's probably because he can not go far without being discovered along the road that goes to a place covered by the big meet.
When the big meet, they realize that is a lie because it is dressed in a funny way of words unsuitable to the occasion.
Children are said to be innocent because they use the words change color when they try to tell lies and are immediately discovered.

The daredevil unpunished, however, are accustomed to telling lies of another species, without the large able to easily recognize that it is made-up stories and sometimes get away.
But sooner or later they too will be discovered and then a pain.

The sculptor of words:

In general, the sculptors carve stone, wood or other raw materials and shape them, expressing the feelings they have inside.
The sculptor of words, however, puts down the first sentences by paying a profusion of paper, wanting to express many meanings, but without understanding what he's getting.
When he stopped writing, is located in front of a shapeless block of sheets, all scattered on the floor in bulk, bequeathed by the impetus of the creative act.
It 'just the beginning.
And armed forces left with a lot of patience, he began to carve through the words and use the pen instead of the scalpel and cuts erased or rectified by sentences feels detached from the meaning of words that, little by little, begins to take shape.
It 'a long and tiring, even if the biceps of the arms do not support the handles of hammers and chisels.
At the end of time to dig and remove and replace words, the sounds that were written, they are able to express a melody.
What is said seems simple, almost obvious.
But to get there and how difficult it is so hard, a little 'like life, is at the beginning when it seems easy, but then you discover that it is all uphill.

Written on the wall:

On the walls of houses, roads and railways are often seen as the written and try to cover them and clean them, or they re-emerge as new sprout.
It is said that those who did not write to her house sheets big enough to hold them and for this reason because they could no hold inside, can not help but mess up the walls of others.
They are rude boys who take advantage with a little 'of poor paint walls and monuments, but often among them are real artists who do not have space to express their talent.
The mayor of each city could offer the space to be used on the walls to the works of these artists, or forced underground.

They are old words? :
There are many words that a child needs to say if he wants to be understood.
As long as he knew just cry, it was difficult to understand what he wanted.
We do not know the exact age of the words.
There are people who study the evolution of language, which are able to determine for what period back with a certain approximation.
Some words are very young, even among these there are babies.
But it is nice to get to ask the age of the words: you might offend and not comment further.
When we speak, we use many more words and we use different, more able to speak our language with greater breath and is pleasant to people who listen to us and do so willingly.

There are ways to say:
The words sometimes seem strange and much larger than they actually express the folds of the sounds.
The eyes of the children remain attached to these words that the wind does go far.
The horizon that a child does not understand, I look for in a line that does not see, designed a wedge between the houses of heaven does not have the space to accommodate its wide-ranging.
The child asks, but before he has a great spirit, so small that the questions of the child can not give proper nourishment.
The child is hungry, but do not receive the food that satisfies.
Then, fortunately, we are away from the commitments and in front of a sea boundless and breathtaking scenery, the child is not enough space to mirror your look and oxygen to all its voracious curiosity.
The horizon now sees boundless to the point of him receiving his humanity and understanding it as a relative perception limit is changed to changing his steps.

The words that matter:

I want to be heard when they speak great.
They can not stand the idea that their words the child from slipping down her cheek, down her neck and long clothes and remain entangled in the mesh clothing without ears they know nothing.
It is known that the eyes of a child, even if they look, who knows where they are immersed, and the big words that come out from the mouth of a great, all dressed in elegant, impeccable in all the letters with accents and apostrophes accurately placed, not not want to fall into the void and become a waste of breath.
The words are a little of the great 'as numbers, but while they are taken one by one, are also words and put them in succession starting to count, they always want to count, even if they are alone, but another sense, however, in wanting to play in importance and authority, the one where the child is totally indifferent.
If he does not speak in his own words, made of letters smiling and playful, he does not understand what they say and listen to elsewhere: where his imagination runs free.

Stories of numbers

The math does not lie! :

The student in front of the four written with strong character and red at the bottom of his task in the classroom, the teacher has corrected the math, probably had the confirmation of what he thought was just a speech.
In mathematics, the rules are strict and must be respected for learning the reasoning needed to get ahead in life and not remain stuck at the starting pole in hand with their hooves.
The operations are not useless!
The numbers are not just numbers and signs are not only signs.
They are all symbols of a language at first very strange, you learn little by little with patience.
Having the courage to continue to do operations, the lazy student to arrive at the right end result.

How many? :
The numbers count, but never end, the child looks at them and makes weird faces.
Try impararseli, but did not enter the head have different forms, who is full of edges and those who do not ha.chi is only those who are just straight and round. Are many and all different. They look alike and are repeated, but they are many.
Copies them onto the page of his notebook from the book which are written, but what has copied is very different from what should have been.
The baby snorts like that old locomotive train that draws you see: "Ugh! What a pizza! But when they end? "
He wants to go to a place where there are, but how would then count the candies that have given? And so far he has eaten ice cream? Who would say it's time to play?
Numbers are everywhere, even in his birthday cake candles that bring gifts.
Have more patience, you'll be able to learn them.

The diligent school child:

Know the multiplication table in mind
when he writes the words
paws in the right places
and to make the arms or
who are well above
to hold your hand near the little letters.

How many sweets? :

The teacher writes a problem on the board gave a grandfather: Gabriele five candy, Monica, four, three to Beatrice, to Frederick two and one dispettosissimo Hugh.
With white chalk has formulated the question: "In all, how many gave candy?"

The grandfather smiled towards the scholar who thinks carefully and look for the operation that will allow him to reach the exact solution.
Hugh, all angry at the only candy in his hand that his bad behavior has brought him, tries to distract the student subtraction suggesting non-existent.
Gabriel, the more polite, with eyes severe tries to attract students to moderation: the exact arithmetic is a subject which admits of no distraction.
Monica, Beatrice and Frederick did not cheering for either Hugo or for Gabriele, hoping that the pupil who has studied and reasoned is able to cross the finish line, without any eyes.
The teacher who passes one of the benches, all these people that the problem has been invented does not see them and hopes that the students give her the satisfaction of having understood the explanations and controls all Ughi and Gabrieli, who sit behind desks.

Stories of things

The ship Patrizia:
When in the seventies of last century, our parents took us to the sea along the coast along the beaches between Ostia and Torvajanica, a ship plowed the waves approaching the shore with the speaker calling the swimmers who said: "Children are Patrizia calling you! Make a tantrum! Weep! Beat feet to the ground! Let them lead by Patrizia on your parents go off in the sun! "

The ship made several stops at various points along the shore loading the children with their parents and then started off.

The mobile phone crazy:

My father is very busy all day running back and forth with his ear always a phone ringing constantly.
Never finds time to play with me and I'm sorry.

One day I saw a little 'troubled: I said that the new phone had fallen to the ground and when he collected these began to behave strangely.
After a while 'turning it on, turn off on the most beautiful, perhaps while crushing the button to answer a phone call arrives. Sometimes then, after powering up, hear a beep of the phone asking him to enter the PIN code as if she were turning at the time.

At first it was stunned, not knowing how to fix it: did not want to spend more money to repair it.
Then he realized that maybe the phone was right.
Instead of using it so much, he started using it less.
As if, I remember turning it on, otherwise let him sleep.
The phone has enjoyed this new life: now he does less mischief, they rarely go out at will.

My father has been detoxified, play more with my football and do long bike rides.
His work has become a hobby and all thanks to a mobile phone.

The decoy:

The Larks are curious birds, so that if the sunlight is reflected off mirrors placed in the middle of the vegetation, and are attracted to flying by to see.
If the hunters use this system to drive them, captures galore.

Instead there are clever people who use a similar system to catch the chickens.
Too bad that in this case, the chickens are really naive people who believe other things with ease and leave taken in the most unlikely, attracted by items whose price makes you think it is down opportunities and instead are just window dressing.

Stories of people

Stories Games

Stories of words

Stories of numbers

Stories of things

Stories of people

Stories Games

Stories of words

Stories of numbers

Stories of things

At once, all at once!:
Alone in the dish had been bigger than a donut cookie.
The three brothers, who had already eaten all the others that his mother had prepared for them, they looked furtively, while trying to hurry to swallow the morsel that everyone was still in his mouth.
The hands were ready to take that last trophy from the pot and outwit the other.
And then, suddenly and unexpectedly, comes with a plush step and, without giving time to look, empty the pot, leaving only crumbs for the beaks of the three dumb fools who look at each other with dismayed eyes in front of such skills , while the big mouth and stretched, tightened with a bite force, it exudes just the sound of a disintegration that does not escape from the big cake, so much desired and now faded.
And while the tongue with taste licks his nose to collect the last crumbs, happily wagging his tail and walks away.

Mr. Phone:

It 'a guy who loves to be heard.
When he plays must run all
To answer his doorbell
And if you do not hurry to raise
The handset, even more trilla
And fast.

One day he gave up screaming
His master had the bill
Forgot to pay
And the workers promptly
Telephone company
The wires were disconnected.

The eye wants its part:

Not satisfied with what they are told, even if it always wants something small, often greater than what could watch.
Sometimes what looks stunned and asks does not understand the explanations that are granted.
Remains forbidden to question, only its small responses.
Glasses were enough to solve his problems, he put on his best every day!
But the eyes give them glasses if you want to see what you feel inside.
And inside the eye has only so much humor that does not think through how the brain that knows everything and everyone thinks, and often does not tell him what he needs even glances that asks him to run.

The egg in the carriage:

To hear this expression, immediately see a great coach, gold, pulled by magnificent white horses, with manes flying in the wind and driven by coachmen elegant, with a side of liveried footmen and inside of it, comfortably stretched out on velvet seats red, a big egg that you claim as best he can in the hole because of the inevitable bumps encountered along the path.
The child is still absorbed in this image of his mind when his mother finally approached the table with the steaming pan.
It is found in the pot to cover the body of a carriage of ham, with wheels of cheese and an egg yolk yellow that looks out the window and greets him as he prepares to take the path to the stomach of that child.

Mr. Respect:

Years ago, if you walked down the street, talking on the bus or in the family, it was easy to meet, interpersonal relationships, the presence of a gentleman who moderated the people who conversed with each other, especially if of different ages: Mr. Respect.
It dictated the rules that you must strictly follow in their behavior.
The children quickly identified them naughty and disobedient put them at attention.
It was enough to his eyes a little 'more severe than usual for not even a fly can fly to school, in classes mad.
The ladies were dressed in provocative necklines and no youngsters did not exceed the limits, either on foot or with the scooters which ran towards the beach, in the spring and summer.
The amusements were simple and there were many fewer accidents.
It felt a little bad news, perhaps because life was more sweaty. The difficulties encountered to reach the targets, forcing people to appreciate what they had and we were all more concrete, without much to go back to fashion.
The sacrifices they were willing to do it all and we do not draw back before the first obstacle.
Then, almost without noticing in advancing years, people who have become great have begun to behave in a more relaxed, using language more and more uninhibited and, slowly, the way it has to be lying on the tracks of comfort.
What surrounds our lives today, holds itself to be so little of the time.
It is a pity that Mr. Respect is gone.

The Mirror of Erised:

Each of us would like to have a magic mirror to be queried as needed to respond to our every question, even to the most strange.
Not only do children want him to get the answers to them because all that great are often unable to give.
The major who grew up outside, but inside they are still children at times, have large gaps left by because no one has been able to fill.

Too bad that there is no magic mirror, or rather no one has yet found.

All the mirrors I interviewed remained silent to my questions and I have only reflected the image that provided him with me so I can not see beyond.

It is said that sooner or later find it.

Stories of questions

Why does it rain? :
When the sky is all blue because we are happy we can go out and play on the lawns.
Slowly in the sky are formed of small shades of white that gradually get bigger, if interested in our cries of joy.
They see us running back and forth on the grass and they also run up into the blue sky and are happy.

But when they are grown and have become so many find it difficult to run without getting hurt.
When they are large they can no longer run and when they try to do it, colliding with its neighbors.
They are no longer white but light gray, dark gray, almost black and most are dark, the more sad because they can not run anymore carefree.
When you do not make it longer if they start crying and crying all the time is down and the children remain at home behind the glass watching the grass that gets wet and can not ever go out to play.

Then, fortunately, in heaven, someone comes along with a colorful toy that makes glad the clouds and stops the tears and the sun will be able to dry meadows, to the delight of children locked up at home to wait.

What is Fantasy? :

Once a child is asked the question, was a long time ago, long before it became big and barely had time to find the answer.
The answer that I seem to found the right one.
He took a sheet, one of those all white collar workers as the aprons when you go to school.
In front of that paper began to imagine the beautiful landscapes that we could draw and then a house with a chimney, a few trees, a road, a carriage with horses, a person who was driving.
But every time I thought, did not stop to what he thought, he liked to keep finding new things and did not care if you draw the fish in the sky and sea birds that swam.
His freedom was imagining everything that could be beautiful, without fear of being wrong.
Perhaps this was already richer than he could offer them the world.
Became too great, but never forgot what he had learned as a child was in difficulty and when pulled from his pocket a pair of special glasses, put them on and everything came back smiling.

Fra' Tante Storie ed altre ancora...

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ENGLISH VERSION - PART 1