Thursday, September 2, 2010

How To Make Jelly Bracelet Designs

The true story of John Sambinelli





In the room hung a faint smell of smoke.
someone had smoked there, it was almost certain. The strangest thing however was the continuing presence of the aroma chemical fishing: incontrovertible proof of an abundant use of the spray to scent the house. Purchased for other environments and to cover many other odors, the presence of the unnatural scent so aggressively in the dining room could not suspicious, and indeed he did.
Con lo sguardo fisso, come colto da un elemento inaspettato, Giovanni Sambinelli se ne stava lì sulla porta, con la maniglia ancora in mano, cercando di raccogliere in sé, come in un'unica immagine, tutti i dati della stanza. Giovanni si concentrò, prese un respiro profondo e chiuse lentamente la porta d'ingresso dietro di sé. Sì, era evidente che qualcuno era entrato nel suo appartamento durante la sua assenza.
Si, era evidente. Ma in realtà era evidente soltanto a lui; nessun altro occhio avrebbe colto il seppur minimo segno di effrazione. Chiunque avrebbe detto che nella stanza vigeva la più completa normalità, ma è chiaro che solo chi è abituato ad avere a che fare with a particular environment can be felt, even before you think that there really is something different. However, the fact that no one but he could detect the different element threw Thurs Sambi - as his friends call him - in a state of vague disquiet, albeit silently. He certainly needed a confirmation from someone else, preferably many others, to say with certainty at least a good approximation of that right there in that room, things were not so how they should be. The problem was Gio Sambi knew that could never be sure the final, and this troubled him. He was disturbed in a way that certainly did not make him prey any kind of anxiety, would have been excessive, and yet he did not feel comfortable, and therefore could not feel at ease.
difficult to say if that room was indeed some one. Everything was in place, and you could not see the slightest sign that anyone had forced the door or windows.
"Needless to watch in the ashtray," she thought to herself Thurs Sambi, "surely if someone entered the room and smoked, it certainly looked good from a trace. The smell of smoke is definitely a residue that is not calculated, would vanish before I return home. " Even as reflected was inadvertently directed to small and slow movement toward the center of the room where there was a wooden table, of little value, but fairly new. Thurs saw the disorder of the small ceramic plate that served as ashtrays, on whose board a blue writing read: "Greetings from Agrigento. Was a gift from a dear former friend, who had tired of seeing John ultimate dip cigarettes in a plastic cup half full of water filthy tar, which were slowly pulping butts and remnants of tobacco.
"If someone has smoked» Sun kept thinking "surely did not want it to be known, so he sprayed perfume. And then will not even leave his butt in the ashtray. " In fact, cigarette butts off just not there was no sign, the ashtray was not cleaned, but an unlit cigarette recently can be seen as the other because of his disgusting and pungent odor, which over time tends to lose.
Thurs picked up an ashtray and had to pass a finger between the ashes and butts. All cold and lifeless for some time. "No, it was not stupid enough to leave him here." But this was far from being a test. In fact, things might go like this: someone entered the house, smoked and then threw the butt out the window. Or, do not find it under the window could have thrown in a basket away from home, or perhaps directly on the street, where he could easily be confused with a thousand others like orange-red brick. No. Thurs Sambi knew that there would be no way to have the final confirmation.
All he had was circumstantial evidence, but every indication was that the result of his assumptions. Now he could not even feel the smell of smoke. In those minutes when he was back in the house as it was dissolved, and with it the only thing that made John suspect that someone had entered his house. Now not only had no evidence, did not even have a clue. Yet he felt, it was almost certain. It was not the lack of evidence in support of his thesis that made him feel uncomfortable, it was the lack of security that even in the absence of evidence leads to move forward in research. He felt it but he was not certain, but could not not think about it.
The reader may not understand what is now telling if it returns to the fundamental fact that long ago, a week before or maybe two, John Sambinelli had lost her house keys.
It was a sunny Sunday, as usual, Gio had gone to the park to enjoy the cool shade of some tree. He pulled from his bag an mp3 player and had spent most of the afternoon trying to associate with each melody that randomly made him go in your ears the best situation that the proposed park. Once back home, good Thu, opening the outer pocket of the backpack he found that there were no keys. Taken from anxiety, ran back to the parquet floor, luckily not too far from home, and began to retrace every move that she remembered having done hours before, to see if it had fallen during the return journey. He arrived at his bench, which had since been hit by the heat of the sun light, only spotted here and there by some shadow of a leaf. Thu, obviously shaken, did not see anything. The unrest had risen slowly but surely, if I had not found there certainly would not know where else cercare, perché per strada non le aveva viste, e per tutto il pomeriggio non si era mosso da quel parco. Sentiva il cuore battergli sempre più forte in petto mentre guardava tra i ciuffi d'erba nei pressi della panchina. Niente. Stava per lasciarsi prendere dal panico quando vide dei ragazzi giocare a palla nel prato. Immediatamente e del tutto inconsapevolmente ipotizzò che magari qualcuno di quei ragazzi avrebbe potuto scorgerle e prenderle con sè (per farci cosa era tutto un altro problema, di cui Gio ne presentiva con dolore il peso). Stava per correre verso di loro quando scorse – o meglio – fu colpito direttamente negli occhi da un barlume scintillante proveniente da un cespuglio proprio di fianco alla panchina. « Eccole! » almost stunned, Thu Sambi rushed to the bush, the branches and found the coveted keys, as well as remembered. The sudden change of mood had obviously shaken, he was so happy to have found them, that was almost overwhelmed by the sudden release of adrenaline that had accumulated until then. He sat on the same bench with the valuable discovery, regardless of the heat exhausting. They were probably left the pocket of the backpack when he pulled out the mp3 player. He held the keys for a few moments fiddle in his hands, making them jump through your fingers, encouraged by the slight metallic rattle he knew so much about family and, just for an ironic coincidence, we can say ... home! It's great who can give the satisfaction to find something so small and yet so important. Cases such as this to Gio reminded of how often underestimate the little things, especially those who have no utility in itself: a small piece of metal allowed to secure all that was precious, and on occasion to give him the ' access.
So much for the guide.
Soon, those moments of great joy, childish one might say, Thurs Sambi followed in a feeling of great concern. At first it was only a slight shock, as when you are reminded of a little detail went unnoticed, but in the hours following became gradually more and more pungent, Thurs until we lost sleep. Someone, in the time elapsed between when he left the park and Thurs when he returned, he could find his keys, make a copy in any hardware store near the park and put them where he had found. All acting undisturbed.
say that someone could find it was only the most optimistic version of Gio restless thoughts: what gave him the assurance that he had just found ? Thurs Sambi could not help but think the worst. Thinking the worst was in fact the feature that, if he had been asked what aspect characterized it as a person, Thurs should have put at the top, luckily no one had ever undertaken a puzzling question, at least since I was no longer a kid, but not things changed. Thurs Sambi also admitted to suffer less because of his inclination to worse for the inevitability of being in the situation know how things were with the knowledge that they can not do anything for, if not change them, at least make so that he could not know, or at least forget.
So here is that John was surprised with annoyance to the suspicion that, indeed, anyone - this inhuman and unbearable unknown - the parco avrebbe potuto avvicinarsi di soppiatto al suo zaino ai piedi della panchina, aprire la tasca esterna, prenderei le chiavi e richiudere la cerniera, il tutto senza che Gio si accorgesse di niente, assorto com'era in quel torpore mentale. Oppure mentre camminava per tornare a casa. Sarebbe stato un gioco da ragazzi sottrargli senza troppi problemi le chiavi, farne una copia e riportarle con tutta calma al parco simulando una normale perdita.
Le cose avrebbero potuto andare così, e questo era il pensiero che gli si era inchiodato al cervello come con una puntina su una bacheca. Nel frattempo scrutava nella stanza alla ricerca del minimo dettaglio, anche il più insignificante, he could feed his suspicions. Thurs Sambi knew in his heart, he would have much preferred to find evidence that confirms that someone had actually entered the house, rather than not find anything suspicious. She turned on the television.
"How come you're back already? "From the corridor came the voice of his wife, Clara, who came into the room drying his hair. Thurs winced. Evidently the sudden sound of the TV had attracted the attention of Clara. Thurs was so hooked on those thoughts that he had not even occurred to me that his wife could have been responsible for the smell of smoke.
"Hello honey, "replied John, trying to appear calm and relaxed. "I saw that the clouds were approaching, so I went away before."
No, could not have been her, it was always smoking habits outside the home. Clara was one of those people who received some type of education if they rarely deviate, and smoking in the house had always been a ban, since his mother at the time, forcing the father to go out on the terrace to smoke. So Thurs was pretty sure that nothing in the world would have forgotten all of a sudden these bans have become as time goes on solid principles.
Thurs Sambi did word of his wife lost keys; Clara would not take at all well. Disclose the matter would have meant the certainty of being criticized for such an act of carelessness. However, John was careful from admitting to himself that this was why he had not spoken. Just had effectively convinced that having the situation resolved for the better - the keys had been found - would not make sense to disturb the wife thought so futile. It would have been rather a cruel act.
for Gio Clara was more than one wife was his external point of reference, its vision of being outside. Everyone needs an outside perspective, some more than others, because consciousness di sé non può estendersi a tal punto da includere se stessa e vedersi interamente, così come la circonferenza di un cerchio non può comprendere se stessa all'interno del cerchio. Attraverso Clara Gio Sambi poteva quindi osservarsi per intero da fuori, come se il suo stesso sguardo riuscisse a rivolgersi verso di sé. A volte però la sua immagine gli faceva paura, e quindi preferiva tenere tra sé le cose che gli apparivano meno chiare.
« Vado a fare le spese, ti serve qualcosa di particolare? » chiese Clara.
Quanto era dolce quella voce.
« Ma la domenica sono chiusi i negozi! » rispose Giovanni.
"Somebody is open, you just know what." Typical women's information.
"Right! So take the beer, thank you! "Said Sambi Thurs, always pretending to be relaxed, but more to himself than he pretended not to Clara, who did not notice anything.
"The usual? Weiss? "
" No, no, take that as an offering "said Thurs was a clear sign that something was cooking, what if a genuine sense of guilt could lead Thurs Sambi to ask his wife to buy any beer?
Clara finished combing her long brown hair, put on shoes (no heels) elegantly hopping to find the balance and left the house closing the door behind him with a soft touch.
steps light and fast receding. Thurs so took a sigh of relief. After all that effort to appear relaxed, he felt exhausted. With a great effort to stay lucid review the situation, as usual, taking into account the situation worse.
"Well," he thought to himself, "Someone has stolen my house keys and made a copy, thinking that no one has noticed me." He took a beer from the fridge and if you opened it.
"Knowing our schedules," continued to think Thurs and clung to the bottle "entered the house undisturbed. Once inside he could do whatever she wanted (yes, what?), But was betrayed lighting a cigarette ... "Here Thurs interrupted his thoughts, struck by a doubt. If you entered secretly, why smoke? It would certainly be a compromising gesture, which would prevent anyone, even the most LELO thieves.
"Unless they did it on purpose! 'And let slip Thurs looking up. Evidently he wanted say to John that he had entered his house, even hiding any clue, just to confuse him. Hide clues too explicit, like the cigarette butt or drawers open, to avoid getting caught blatantly, but make sure that a glimmer of suspicion remained: the smell of smoke! Thurs Sambi was now almost always more convinced of the validity of the picture that was emerging. The only point on which he had no ideas about that was the reason for that visit. Gio and Clara were not rich at all, indeed led a life quite modest, so there could be a thief, especially if you had planned everything in detail. Could then be a maniac, even one who has long followed Clara to seize the right moment to pounce. "But then you do not understand why he voluntarily revealed his presence, "she thought reassuring Thurs. "Unless they did it just to dispel this possibility by pretending to be a thief! »Sun Sambi was alarmed again. "Right now is perhaps the following, just waiting for the right opportunity to ... "He swallowed nervously. His breathing was becoming labored, quickened heart beats.
A drop fell from the sink faucet. He knocked in the water contained in a cup accumulated over other cups, a small but hard thud, with a sort of echo. Another drop, another thud. Then another drop fell again, maybe the same as before was repeated with an interval quite regular. As John was awakened by the noise, it was probably a bit 'to continue, but only noticed it then, suddenly. He was glad of the distraction, he had moved away from those thoughts for a moment so agonizing. The bottle of beer he had in his hand was now completely empty. Thurs realized that fatigue was becoming more and more powerful way through his limbs. He approached the table stumbled slightly, took a chair and sat down. The head was getting heavy, put the palm of your hand.
"I'd have to look Clara, perhaps there is still time," he said to himself. The gaze turned almost mechanically to TV screen, in all that time had not stopped a second to throw out bursts of images and sounds.
had to be a documentary. There was a castle in the countryside. Do not type the Middle Ages, much more advanced in years, with obvious signs of restructuring, but old enough to be called old. It stood on a hill surrounded by majestic canopy of trees, beech, perhaps. The camera took over the outside of the castle, beautifully illuminated by sunlight. The shot was from the top down, highlighting the height of a tower that soared above each tree. A slow zoom to capture better the surface: white stones, broken here and there da imponenti finestroni e feritoie decisamente più piccole, pian piano avvicinandosi alla cima della torre, dove chiaramente si trovava una stanza. Intanto un brusio accompagnava quelle immagini: doveva essere la voce fuoricampo del narratore. Era una specie di cupola, con un tetto molto acuto, che proteggeva un'imponente vetrata dalla quale probabilmente si poteva dominare tutta la vallata sottostante. Sarebbe stato affascinante venire a sapere che quella era stata la stanza di una figlia di una importante famiglia di qualche casata nobile, magari l'ultima nata di quattro figli, destinata, per volontà del padre, a passare gran parte della sua giornata in quella stanza finemente arredata. Seppur dotata di ogni comfort e con ogni cosa desiderasse a portata hand, walking at the foot of the castle in just hours you could see the sad face of the girl, while looking out the window. But the images without the detached narrator to refer to each other.
Now it was inside the castle. No longer the zoom, but a slow tracking shot came out ahead by a large living room and went into a long corridor, where a finely embroidered rug covered it in its full length. On the walls, paintings of landscapes and portraits of various characters, enclosed in massive frames. The buzz was still vague. Every little door he met a few, probably because access to other rooms, or perhaps leading to other equally long corridors. Important families must have lived in that castle. Sometimes the first floor of any framework: a storm hit with a landscape of violence, perhaps because of that area, the darkness was violently interrupted by a flash of lightning, while in the foreground a swan bent his long neck to seek refuge from persistent rain was falling at an angle. A typical baroque style. Now the portrait of an elegantly dressed man: his features were hard, even severe, the background was dark, indeed black, as his eyes. The man, shot in three quarters, not the viewer's gaze; huge gray mustache nor cover the corners of his mouth making it almost incomprehensible to understand if you tend upwards or downwards. The author of the portrait, narrated as the voice had been clearly influenced by the Flemish style because within the black eye he had painted with a technique that seemed decent, a small flame that was to be a reflection of some lantern situated close to the artist while portraying the ' man. The more you zoom closer to the painting, the more it seemed that other details emerged in the light of the feeble flame. It was as if the author had inserted into those dark crevices two other objects, to look good, could be recognized: it seemed to see a table, above which was an elegant wine bottle, nearly empty. With more effort you could see, as you zoom it, going further, that the flame of lantern was reflected even weaker on the glass bottle, indirect lighting one more time 'of the room. In this way, it seemed even to glimpse the outlines of the painter's clothes, but the vision did not stop, because even a glimmer, even more subtle, perhaps a pin on his trousers, he wore a little 'light, just a little weak and shaky, even further into the room, or completely wrapped in black darkness. And now it seems to appear on the face of the painter. The facial features, too dimly lit to be described, moving unsteadily, like when you go too far from a light source, near the border of the cone of light it produces, so what is illuminated by this light that is now darker, another step and it was total darkness, and yet there, in this last frontier of view, despite the shadows are now the predominant component , just the edges of what once would have guessed these things still seem, is not in itself, but with the help of memory or imagination. And here emerges the face of hard-painter, who now seems to buy even the outlines of an expression, perhaps in strength, but it is only an impression, it appears and disappears after a few moments, too shaky and tenuous is a reflection of light, even for the trained eye. In fact, here it is disappearing its entirely, by sliding back the room in total darkness. Has gone too far in his eyes. However, another reckless attempt, you enter the darkness still groping for other surfaces that may further reflect the light of the lantern. Like a flash, here comes a gleam from the table that pierces the darkness. Lasts less than an instant, excruciating pain in his eyes, too used to be floating in complete darkness, as when hit by the flash of a camera, and here emerges out of the face of the painter in its entirety, perfectly illuminated, not concentration, but an unnatural smile, almost evil, across his face! But even before I had made has already been absorbed by the darkness, along with the rest of the room, and only now we realize that the sudden gleam came from the set of keys on the table, which had a quantity of light reflected excessively beyond their capabilities.
Read a thrill Thurs awoke with a start. The forehead beaded with sweat, his breathing labored and his heart pounding in my temples. At the same time, eyes smiling on TV explaining how to cook the recipes of the area.
"What the fuck! 'And let slip Sambi Thurs.
Clara had not yet returned. "As I slept? "He asked without being able to meet Thurs.
He rose from his chair, leaning hard on the table and went shuffling to the bathroom. He was definitely dazed he did not know if it was due to the dream, the scorching heat or the TV on (which meanwhile gave the advertising) - or the combined action of the three.





NOTE: John Sambinelli, despite being a real person in the story you just read is only the name of a fictional character.
I take this opportunity to thank the former for giving me the opportunity the second to give his name.

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