Making Ballet Slippers From Fondant Tutorial

blood. [18/01/2011 facebook]

blood.

published by LivingDead gozaimasu Sydney on Tuesday, January 18, 2011 at 1:44

blood is a connective tissue fluid in blood vessels of animals, the complex composition, which is part of the broader category of connective tissues. The adjective that refers to the blood, "blood" comes from the greek αἶμα, αἴματος (AIMA aimatos), which literally means "blood", while the Italian name derived from the Latin sanguis, sanguinis, the same meaning. Constitutes about 7% of body weight, has a specific gravity of 1041-1062 kg \\ m3, a temperature of 37-38 ° C and a pH of 7:38 to 7:42. It consists of 55% of a liquid part called plasma, and 45% from a corpuscular part, consisting of cells or fragments cells. \u0026lt;/ span>

L ' epistaxis (or rinorragia ) is externalized internal bleeding, or bleeding from an opening in the body's natural, namely by one or both nostrils, from the front or back of the nasal septum.

As you may have guessed by now, I happen to have frequent nosebleeds rather abundant and long lasting.
Tonight I had another one, and for the second time I decided to play a bit 'above, with photos and comments for you facebook users.
For me there is something immediate, as it might be for someone in the nosebleed was a practice more occasional, think of using my appointment with the dripping blood as a starting point of conversation here on facebook, dell'appariscenza the world, where everything is stain to, just to have food for conversation in a perpetual race lift, where the embarrassment of silence makes you talk about anything, everything and nothing.
So for me the cranberry juice is a friend of long standing, was the only chance for the child most unlucky of 3 ° C Sogliani elementary school, to have some 'of attention from teachers, school caretakers and companions, all accompanied me to the bathroom as a caravan, list all possible remedies, and although my nosebleeds were presented approximately once a week, no one seemed to get bored playing doctor.

But things have changed and the child most unlucky Seprio Castle Middle School, was no longer very attractive from that point of view and it was ansi, one more reason to horrify the virginal eyes of girls, which a little later I would be ousted trivializing the bleeding, you understand what I'm talking, bleeding from the more interesting parts of my nose. So for me

epistaxis was now a thing so natural that it has become almost instinctive.
I realized he arrived early enough that I can calmly get up, go to the bathroom and dab, compress, clean, inspect and return to class or in bed, or wherever I was at that moment, in less than five minutes.

[Note: I wrote while up to that point, he started to nose bleed]

was then in high school, my period of counterculture, where I began to love the film and the pearls of pulp , I discovered the artistic potential of blood.
began to look at blood flow to the face in front of the mirror in the bathroom.
As the blood coming down my brain processes the stories, plots and twists, fights, incurable diseases, paranormal, psychic abilities, and so on.
The blood dripped into the sink and then, without losing its charm, fell slowly in the waste by creating a set of ruby \u200b\u200bstripes convergent then were yellow, thriller, murder, torture terrible stories of atrocities committed by insane murderers, against the poor and young women.

Even without the blood stains and leaves a trail everywhere (feature less loved by those who have the misfortune of having to clean a certain amount before the police arrived) and hands on the floor, everything you touch any form of spots remain.
In particular, I believe that the forms that the blood may, reside in our brain as atavistic memory, evergreen, of how little is being recommended to close the above, because blood calls for blood and you know, such as cherries, a murder leads to another.
This atavistic memory perhaps, makes the blood take any form, is always fascinating inspiration for us travelers substrate Mental fragmented drops on a white surface, fingerprints left by a careless hand, big slick enigmatic center of the room.

Sometimes though, my personal facial cycle, is at inopportune moments and I notice so that people willingly accept certain things.
Once I began to gush blood fountain while I was running on Braccianese, and I could not quite stop.
short, after a while 'crossing a small town and I stop, take off my helmet, I had the entire face, nose down completely covered in blood and the various nuances of the lumpy areas to cooler ones, I painted the whole area of \u200b\u200bthe mouth, under the nose, chin and down her throat .
I think at that time, even the people who were turned away, he felt an instinct to turn to me, because I had just removed his helmet half fucking village staring at me with his face turned upside down. If
when I happen to lose blood in the street I cover with my hand until I can not find a way to clean myself in that situation all had assumed a tone so grotesque that I went into a bar without even groped to cover me, partly because the hand meanwhile was just as dirty.
In the bar I just shrugged his shoulders and ask where the bathroom was.
Once cleaned up I went and ordered a coffee and a donut (even to restore the pressure, I already low in mine), called the necessary explanations to the bartender and I went a bit 'embarrassed.

Blood traumatic experience is not common for me, I remember with a certain sweetness when, recently, a friend of mine dropped me a karate mawashi geri in the face.
Ruzzolai ground and felt the walls of my nose immediately sprinkle of hot blood.
wounds youth, peelings, chromium, mercury, cuts playing with knives: the practice in fact.

Unfortunately, sometimes the blood is less fun and more cruel you know.
One of the memories I vividly etched in my memory about an appointment with my friend, after this we were going home by motorbike in the evening, on Via Cassia, there was traffic.
When we got close to what had caused all that traffic, the boy was still lying on the asphalt, with the helmet and stuck a big, ominous, dark, dense, blood stain surrounded by several centimeters of view of his head.
Unfortunately I saw him later, and the motor was trying frantically to extricate themselves from traffic, in fact inadvertently put a foot on that spot, seemed thicker than an inch thick as it was, they took the signs with me for a long time.


The Blood by Giuliano Bartoletti is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution - No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License .