Parts Catalogue Old Ski Doo

border points?

the evening sunset. A magical moment, just a few moments later. The dusk. A mysterious scenario, where the night takes the place of day, nature does the somersault of a metamorphosis, the winds are lost, the certainties become milder, the heart laments missing a few beats, the sky turns shades of pantone out. The pitch of the night, plush, peeps on the red roofs, red sunset, red button humanity, red with fatigue.

the morning dawn. One moment empty, just moments before. The sunrise. The big sleep coming to an end. Resist the new light. Resist the frenzy of what will be. Resist the mystery disappears, capturing the flavor of the last dream. Hang in there, but the nest is flooded. The gear of the day, sound prelude to what will lap input to the memory of the dark, timeless accelerates accelerates accelerates.

Making, with the taste to create. No matter what. The important thing is sculpting, hard to know what. Asimov has whispered to me one day ... in return, had the gift of supernatural almost immediately see the application of a theory, so use them. In the cold marble block of abstract structure, he could see no obvious problems, the intricate design of a wonderful device: block opened as a magic touch and the device remains in its place ...

Breathe, the air democratic act. The air is all. What you breathe, is the same that I breath. Not the type. Just the same air. What comes out of your lungs in some way, then enter the mine, you can not do anything. You're a little me time. You then live like me. You then run away like me. You then dreams as me.

The house and the environment. Most importantly, the veranda. A little bit out of a house. Interface between intimacy and exteriority. Your world becomes our world. Lookout point, waiting arena, a plaything of slowing down the second swing. Wood, I like to think of wood, spacious, luminous, important, fragrant. And behind them, perhaps nothing.

Crying, silent moment of reunion with yourself. Shake you hard, like a wave of those that you feel flying. Pinagere secretly. She cried. Hold down the plant, to give vent to all, to vibrate all. Orgasm with tears. Breathing stopped. Meanwhile, it soaks the page tears, the page manager, the special page, the page is worth the whole book.

many borders, many twilights, many dawns, many sculptures, the breathing, many porches, both cry. So many different points. So many different boundaries. The question is, what is your point line?

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cycles of co-optation?

When you occupy a position and location, are in some way invested by the thought of those who will follow you. Are you invested if it is actually six members to the choice, if you are a long way from being able to express even a slightest opinion. In practice, you feel responsible for the actions of that role, and also to keep a thing of importance for the position you covered, you must make sure that it is protected, maintained and strengthened. It is your own memory. Here are grafted two processes of interest: the distrust to the change except to increase the extent and importance of the position, the recruitment in the search for a worthy successor. The first phenomenon is a barrier to innovation di processo e si scontra contro il presupposto che le mansioni complessive siano costanti, quindi se una aumenta un'altra, tipicamente, tende a diminuire. Il secondo fenomeno è palesamente un processo contrario alla trasparenza e volendo alla gestione democratica di una qualsiasi entità. Interessante una osservazione di ciclicità. Tipicamente la scelta del successore ti porta a trovarne uno sufficientemente in gamba per mantenere lustro della posizione ma comunque non superiore alle tue qualità, per mantenere comunque un ricordo della tua impronta. In pratica, la tendenza è al peggioramento. Ed è un peggioramento continuo, come se fosse una lenta degradazione. Sino ad un limite. La selezione di qualcuno che non ha l'arguzia di selezionare uno peggiore of itself. This triggers a cyclical nature, with a break at the time when the level has fallen below the threshold of understanding the wit of the new occupant. Capacity is often at wit. Interesting then to extend the reasoning of the local context and global cyclicity. In the local context, such as the aziedale, similar positions with different functions tend to unite in the level of the occupants. There are many reasons, including: internal mobility, the tables of comparison tables for consultation. But then this local uniformity can be a more global uniformity, also displayed directly from the classic "you" role, inter-form camaraderie of unifying and simplifying reports. That's the cyclical nature of the position may be a cyclical Circulation local or performance, up to a more global cyclicity. Far from me is the evidence to explain the cyclical nature of the co-optation macroevents, including economic ones certainly, but perhaps this is an explanation. The solution may be simply a meritocracy, but measured in earnest. You could at least alter cycles to cycles of co-optation of meritocracy. Just like that .. to try!

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Red sky at night? Men

Semaphores, these friends. The summer progresses, hot. You are stopped. Solitary. 5 courses. Only you. The asphalt smoke. A mirage takes you, you advance. It seems quasi che a breve incontrerai un lago fresco. Appunto, si chiamano miraggi. E il tempo passa. E nessuno occupa l'incrocio. E tu aspetti. Caldo. Caldo ovunque. Un enorme fohn. Finalmente verde. Acceleri, senti l'aria addosso, ricordi quando era tra i capelli, ricordi, perchè i capelli non ci sono più, ricordi, perchè il casco isola protegge e mette sottovuoto ma anche sottocaldo. Rosso. Un'altro. 150 metri di libertà. Nessuno in giro. Solo. Rosso. Attendi. Pensi. Pensi al perchè stai aspettando. Pensi a cosa stai aspettando. Pensi alle dita in segno di vittoria, internazionale momento di condivisione ,tra cavalieri d'acciaio. Pensi che la sicurezza è bella, ma anche la libertà non scherza. Pensi ad un cavaliere sul suo cavallo, entangled and bound. And it is green now, suddenly slow. New red. And I remember the green waves of New York, what you see from the Harlem night and see them take fast towards the south, and you can not keep up, almost even with your eyes. And you wonder ... because I'm alone, no one and I'm waiting. It 's a lonely hot. And because I'm waiting for a while. Drops of sweat mark the second. One is reminded of the traffic lights with a countdown, at least you know what to expect. You do not know, I just know that it is red, the evening becomes a mirage. The horse paws. The engineer in me wonders why there is a system that triggers the lights in sequence and why should I pollute a cross when no one uses it. Then he asks what would be the real impact of turning off the engine at every crossing, or the cost to avoid doing so. Meanwhile, the heat increases. The mind soars. The fold becomes a dream. The evening is approaching. Traffic lights are still many. Red sky at night.