Equation To Find Possible Base Combinations

from two books: hymn to life in your pocket and bank

This week I had two books in his hands very beautiful, intense, a real anthem to life.
The first is this book of photographs by Lynn Johnson , U.S. photographer who oversaw many reportages investigation for National Geographic, especially on Africa and on some serious diseases ("On the trail of killer virus" 2005, "Nature and Medicine" 2000, "Deadly contact: zoonosis" 2007 ....) In the book, some photos I have spoken more than others, touched me directly, they called me because I looked more carefully. Like this
of a woman in northern Kenya, in equilibrium in a pit of the song "Face the contract by the effort to lift the bucket full of water.
To find the strength to descend into pits like this one, writes Lynn,
women sing for support in the effort and fear. In the well illustrated
in this photo almost every day someone dies.
This picture is me, almost 26 years ago:
a premature baby, tiny, kept alive by tubes and wires.

In this photograph an Indian child with cerebral palsy, such as A. I work with every day, is immersed in a bucket of sand to improve his motor skills.

This picture is perhaps the one that gave me more: the

neurobiologist Constance Scharff relaxes in the water.

I can not explain well because I have hit:

perhaps the serene face and at the same time concentrate the woman, her leaving the water.

I imagined after a long and exhausting day of work, scientific research, experimental, finally get home and dive into the water to let go of thoughts, tension, fatigue, to purify themselves from work and finally live the life true.

Perhaps this picture struck me because I was so tired from work when I saw her, and gave me confidence, as if I had I also immersed in that water clear and fresh after the long day and I were charging in silence.

It reminded me that real life is elsewhere, not only at work, I can and I also find time for me to relax, to let go, to make something beautiful every day despite the fatigue.

Even this photograph seemed like a hymn to life, joy.

Look at these old ladies Hawaiian, well-fleshed, who dance and sing, have fun, celebrate:

are they not to be taken as an example?

And this photograph?

I find it absolutely perfect, beautiful, pure poetry that speaks, these hands wrinkled and hardened by time, which start to show a little gentle knight of paper ...

[black and white is my own, original photograph of Lynn and color]

And the composition of this photograph, in which a grandmother to grandson Misha Russian law a fairy tale by Pushkin, this picture is not even poetry itself?

Another book I read this week is Little Tree .

This book recounts the childhood of a child cherochee Applachi the mountains in the Great Depression.

Little Tree lives with his grandparents in a small house in the boshi, in full and complete harmony with nature, the trees, the various animals that inhabit the mountains, and Mon-o-lah, the mother earth.

"On the way up, even where the ice crunching beneath his moccasins, raccoglievamo aghi di sempreverdi.

Nonna li metteva nell'acqua calda e bevevamo anche quelli.

Fa meglio di ogni frutto, e ti fa sentire bene, come del resto le radici e i semi del simplocarpo.

[...] poi i gialli denti di leone sbucavano dappertutto in fondo alla valletta, e noi li coglievamo per mangiarli in insalata:

sono buonissimi mescolati con la lattuga selvatica, la fitolacca e l'ortica.

[...]La lattuga selvatica ha un grosso fiore rosso e un lungo stelo che si può spellare e mangiare crudo, oppure cucinarlo, e sa di asparago.

La senape cresce sul pendio del monte formando chiazze che sembrano coperte gialle.

Mette vivaci fiorellini giallo canary and the leaves are spicy.

grandmother mixed with other vegetables and sometimes reducing them to grind the seeds to make mustard paste table.

Everything that grows wild is a hundred times more intense cultivation of things.

extracted from the ground the wild onions, and a handful was enough to give more flavor to a bushel of onions grown.

As the air heats up and the rains come, the mountain flowers color the hillsides as if you were paid buckets of paint on it.

wild hyacinths have long tubular red flowers with wax so fierce that seem painted;

the bluebells sway on stems thin tendrils that emerge from rocks e crepacci.

I fiori di genziana presentano grandi petali color lavanda con centri gialli che stanno abbracciati al terreno, mentre le ipomee si tengono nascoste nel profondo delle valli, con lunghi steli oscillanti come salici con le punte frangiate di rosa."

Brani come questo mi han fatto venir una voglia matta di stare all'aperto, raccogliere la nostra frutta, smuovere la terra, cammiNAre scalzA, stare al sole, all'aria, camminare in montagna, osservare la nostra verdura che cresce, sognare una nuova casa, tutta mia, con orto e galline, mettere i piedi nell'acqua gelata del fiume, sentire il sole caldo sulla pelle, sentire il profumo di fieno che sale dai campi.

Primavera sbrigati to arrive! :-) Have a good week of

real life to all of you who pass by here!