<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8453638</id><updated>2011-12-13T02:38:15.854-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Marciapiede</title><subtitle type='html'>poesie semplici</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://marciapiede.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8453638/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciapiede.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>simone righini</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-mq-A8tMvdlA/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAADr4/X1vOS_kiCLE/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>17</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8453638.post-1700954062711256453</id><published>2009-11-28T03:25:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-28T03:28:23.229-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>un signore con la felpa rossa&lt;br /&gt;corre in un modo buffo spingendo&lt;br /&gt;un triciclo rosso&lt;br /&gt;dietro un bambino corre anche lui&lt;br /&gt;coi passettini&lt;br /&gt;il papà ride e fa i passettini&lt;br /&gt;dietro di loro una mamma&lt;br /&gt;carica di buste della spesa, blu. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ma dove le trova le buste della spesa blu?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8453638-1700954062711256453?l=marciapiede.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8453638/posts/default/1700954062711256453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8453638/posts/default/1700954062711256453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciapiede.blogspot.com/2009/11/un-signore-con-la-felpa-rossa-corre-in.html' title=''/><author><name>simone righini</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-mq-A8tMvdlA/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAADr4/X1vOS_kiCLE/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8453638.post-8674479931275818990</id><published>2009-07-27T01:54:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-27T01:54:50.721-07:00</updated><title type='text'>motorini e bambini</title><content type='html'>una vespa vecchia con sopra un signore anziano passa sgasando un fumazzo bianco e sul marciapiede accanto passa una mamma col bambino nel passeggino, proprio ad altezza marmitta. Ma vaffanculo&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8453638-8674479931275818990?l=marciapiede.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8453638/posts/default/8674479931275818990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8453638/posts/default/8674479931275818990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciapiede.blogspot.com/2009/07/motorini-e-bambini.html' title='motorini e bambini'/><author><name>simone righini</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-mq-A8tMvdlA/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAADr4/X1vOS_kiCLE/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8453638.post-4014082609997981574</id><published>2009-07-24T02:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-24T02:20:53.634-07:00</updated><title type='text'>barriere</title><content type='html'>dove va una bici va anche una carrozzina&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8453638-4014082609997981574?l=marciapiede.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8453638/posts/default/4014082609997981574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8453638/posts/default/4014082609997981574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciapiede.blogspot.com/2009/07/barriere.html' title='barriere'/><author><name>simone righini</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-mq-A8tMvdlA/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAADr4/X1vOS_kiCLE/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8453638.post-1735932857939965985</id><published>2008-12-09T07:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T07:51:15.683-08:00</updated><title type='text'>la musica è bella</title><content type='html'>fanculo le medicine&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;tutto il giorno in silenzio&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;sento una ruspa fuori&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;penso, cazzo che bel rumore&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;apro la finestra per sentirlo meglio&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;si aggiunge una motosega&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;che poesia&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8453638-1735932857939965985?l=marciapiede.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8453638/posts/default/1735932857939965985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8453638/posts/default/1735932857939965985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciapiede.blogspot.com/2008/12/la-musica-bella.html' title='la musica è bella'/><author><name>simone righini</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-mq-A8tMvdlA/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAADr4/X1vOS_kiCLE/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8453638.post-114998030536825014</id><published>2006-06-10T15:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-10T15:58:25.380-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>molì, guardare in silenzio.&lt;br /&gt;perchè da solo non si può parlare,&lt;br /&gt;e solo raramente si può giocare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suonare per me, impossibile.&lt;br /&gt;suonare per altri, perchè?&lt;br /&gt;trovare compagnia, per me, per altri.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;nude, su internet.&lt;br /&gt;nudi per strada.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8453638-114998030536825014?l=marciapiede.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8453638/posts/default/114998030536825014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8453638/posts/default/114998030536825014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciapiede.blogspot.com/2006/06/mol-guardare-in-silenzio.html' title=''/><author><name>simone righini</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-mq-A8tMvdlA/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAADr4/X1vOS_kiCLE/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8453638.post-113899926778129545</id><published>2006-02-03T10:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-03T12:41:07.826-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Mi è sinceramente dispiaciuto dover dire di no alla prenotazione di stamattina. &lt;br /&gt;Chiama chiedendo gentilissima, in inglese 6 camere per un giorno, si ride già dai primi secondi, c'è pheeling. Io penso che si fermino per due notti, come sempre quando mi dicono "In l' 8" e "Out il 9". non so fare i conti. Ma la scrivo giusta. Gli ordini dall'alto dicevano "per i giorni di pieno, accettare pure prenotazioni superiori ai due giorni". Così ho sbagliato, e ne ho accettate 6 da 1. che non è come 3 da 2, o molto meglio 1 da 6. Allora siccome ero stato molto cordiale nello sbagliare, dopo un po' la signora richiama per chiedere altre 7 stanze. Si ride e si scherza, mi dice che sono molto gentile, e bal bal. Intanto però vado a chiedere a Donnie se posso prendere questa grossa prenotazione. lui dice "si si, bel colpo". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;poi quando si tratta di mettere giu le camere nota che sono 13 da 1, e non 13 da 2. Allora nella sua mente la percezione della realtà cambia. simo, devi richiamare e dire che annulliamo la prenotazione. &lt;br /&gt;Io chiamo, e quando lo dico alla signora cordiale il suo tono diventa tipo "mi hai ammazzato il figlio, bastardo" e ripete, come sotto shock "you shouldn't said yes this morning, you shuldn't, you shuldn't" io dico "i'm really sorry, i understand that reservation was for 2 days, not for 1, we cant accept reservation for just one day". Lei continua a dire "hai sbagliato, e adesso io come faccio?" "hai sbagliato, e adesso io come faccio?" "non dovevi dirmi di si stamattina, non dovevi, non dovevi, hai sbagliato". Io mi sento male, e faccio di tutto per trovarle un albergo che possa ospitarla al posto nostro. Lo trovo, la chiamo, glielo comunico. Le dico che "se vuole puo andare da loro" lei mi dice "allora li chiamo, grazie, ti tengo informato". è sera e non ha ancora chiamato.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8453638-113899926778129545?l=marciapiede.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8453638/posts/default/113899926778129545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8453638/posts/default/113899926778129545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciapiede.blogspot.com/2006/02/mi-sinceramente-dispiaciuto-dover-dire.html' title=''/><author><name>simone righini</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-mq-A8tMvdlA/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAADr4/X1vOS_kiCLE/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8453638.post-110951301384303264</id><published>2005-02-27T06:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-27T06:08:42.070-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>L'auto al mattino, presto lascia il rumore di uno sbadiglio.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8453638-110951301384303264?l=marciapiede.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8453638/posts/default/110951301384303264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8453638/posts/default/110951301384303264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciapiede.blogspot.com/2005/02/lauto-al-mattino-presto-lascia-il.html' title=''/><author><name>simone righini</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-mq-A8tMvdlA/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAADr4/X1vOS_kiCLE/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8453638.post-109951706158294115</id><published>2004-11-03T13:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-03T13:24:21.583-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>lo inseguo fuori, sul marciapiede. &lt;br /&gt;Verso casa, mani in tasca, guarda a sinistra.&lt;br /&gt;mi chiedo cosa pensi, mentre cammina.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nella notte, ciò che sai torna, niente..&lt;br /&gt;solo un passo dopo l'altro. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8453638-109951706158294115?l=marciapiede.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8453638/posts/default/109951706158294115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8453638/posts/default/109951706158294115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciapiede.blogspot.com/2004/11/lo-inseguo-fuori-sul-marciapiede.html' title=''/><author><name>simone righini</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-mq-A8tMvdlA/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAADr4/X1vOS_kiCLE/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8453638.post-109705369327693550</id><published>2004-10-06T02:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-06T02:08:13.276-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>dal finestrino abbassato, s'un auto rossa &lt;br /&gt;in corsa sputa. occhiali neri e bocca a u&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;e una suora pinguino procede volenterosa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8453638-109705369327693550?l=marciapiede.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8453638/posts/default/109705369327693550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8453638/posts/default/109705369327693550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciapiede.blogspot.com/2004/10/dal-finestrino-abbassato-sun-auto.html' title=''/><author><name>simone righini</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-mq-A8tMvdlA/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAADr4/X1vOS_kiCLE/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8453638.post-109698387105219047</id><published>2004-10-05T06:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-06T02:12:17.586-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>avrà meno di sessant'anni, e un maglione canarino,&lt;br /&gt;è chino, quarantacinque gradi e guarda a terra, mentre &lt;br /&gt;cammina e sua moglie ride, sta raccontando divertita, &lt;br /&gt;con una mano tiene la cinghia della borsetta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;si tengono per mano e oscillano, tremano e avanzano.&lt;br /&gt;uno in tuta magro, sembra un bimbo anziano, ha un &lt;br /&gt;elmetto da ciclista. L'altro sembra il nonno, più &lt;br /&gt;grande, largo, con maglione pesante grigio e camicia.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8453638-109698387105219047?l=marciapiede.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8453638/posts/default/109698387105219047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8453638/posts/default/109698387105219047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciapiede.blogspot.com/2004/10/avr-meno-di-sessantanni-e-un-maglione.html' title=''/><author><name>simone righini</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-mq-A8tMvdlA/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAADr4/X1vOS_kiCLE/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8453638.post-109672750388323092</id><published>2004-10-02T07:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-02T07:56:24.756-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>capelli legati a coda, sorriso &lt;br /&gt;tenue, tette a spillo, lei.&lt;br /&gt;dividono una borsa nera.&lt;br /&gt;lui sorride fino alle orecchie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ritorno; sacchetto giallo in più,&lt;br /&gt;capelli liberi appena sulle spalle&lt;br /&gt;sorpassano uno stormo di vecchietti,&lt;br /&gt;in salita da ore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in giardino oggi mostra, fiori su tela&lt;br /&gt;cane e padrone non colgono, e avanti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cullando un bimbo invisibile &lt;br /&gt;dotata di golf bianco, bascula osservando.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8453638-109672750388323092?l=marciapiede.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8453638/posts/default/109672750388323092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8453638/posts/default/109672750388323092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciapiede.blogspot.com/2004/10/capelli-legati-coda-sorriso-tenue.html' title=''/><author><name>simone righini</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-mq-A8tMvdlA/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAADr4/X1vOS_kiCLE/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8453638.post-109662364861020136</id><published>2004-10-01T02:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-01T02:55:39.536-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>da destra a sinistra un giovane in vespa col casco&lt;br /&gt;slacciato, si volta, ha la malattia di internet negli occhi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i giardinieri in divisa esaminano il parco, e prendono&lt;br /&gt;punti di riferimento comuni (un dito a indicare lontano)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8453638-109662364861020136?l=marciapiede.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8453638/posts/default/109662364861020136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8453638/posts/default/109662364861020136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciapiede.blogspot.com/2004/10/da-destra-sinistra-un-giovane-in-vespa.html' title=''/><author><name>simone righini</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-mq-A8tMvdlA/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAADr4/X1vOS_kiCLE/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8453638.post-109637508391264909</id><published>2004-09-28T05:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-09-28T05:51:48.646-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>a velocità costante passa il vecchietto sulla seggiola a motore;&lt;br /&gt;stretto allo schienale scozzese il portamento immobile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;segue a ruota il signor Rubini, molleggiato e ondeggiante,&lt;br /&gt;controlla il traffico per scaramanzia: deserto. e Passa.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8453638-109637508391264909?l=marciapiede.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8453638/posts/default/109637508391264909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8453638/posts/default/109637508391264909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciapiede.blogspot.com/2004/09/velocit-costante-passa-il-vecchietto.html' title=''/><author><name>simone righini</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-mq-A8tMvdlA/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAADr4/X1vOS_kiCLE/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8453638.post-109629485556299617</id><published>2004-09-27T07:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-09-28T05:46:09.583-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>sul plexiglass delle cabine telefoniche si sdoppia l'anziano &lt;br /&gt;che smonta i cartelloni di miss Italia. Sotto un braccio una&lt;br /&gt;scala, sotto l'altro i poster arrotolati.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8453638-109629485556299617?l=marciapiede.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8453638/posts/default/109629485556299617'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8453638/posts/default/109629485556299617'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciapiede.blogspot.com/2004/09/sul-plexiglass-delle-cabine.html' title=''/><author><name>simone righini</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-mq-A8tMvdlA/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAADr4/X1vOS_kiCLE/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8453638.post-109620158935909598</id><published>2004-09-26T05:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-09-26T05:28:50.143-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>sorride e il giardino si riflette sugli occhiali da&lt;br /&gt;sole dorati. Le bandierine sventolano, quando attesa&lt;br /&gt;la precedenza, si ferma un secondo ai raggi freschi&lt;br /&gt;di settembre, e poi parte.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;quando fa freddo arriva in panda, con due ruote in più.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8453638-109620158935909598?l=marciapiede.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8453638/posts/default/109620158935909598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8453638/posts/default/109620158935909598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciapiede.blogspot.com/2004/09/sorride-e-il-giardino-si-riflette.html' title=''/><author><name>simone righini</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-mq-A8tMvdlA/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAADr4/X1vOS_kiCLE/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8453638.post-109614298679215472</id><published>2004-09-25T13:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-09-25T13:09:46.793-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>un bassotto coi baffoni e il cappello da baseball. &lt;br /&gt;Buio fuori e dentro. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sarà perchè è notte? &lt;br /&gt;passano solo auto, e marito e moglie chini controvento,&lt;br /&gt;mezz'ora fa.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8453638-109614298679215472?l=marciapiede.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8453638/posts/default/109614298679215472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8453638/posts/default/109614298679215472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciapiede.blogspot.com/2004/09/un-bassotto-coi-baffoni-e-il-cappello.html' title=''/><author><name>simone righini</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-mq-A8tMvdlA/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAADr4/X1vOS_kiCLE/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8453638.post-109601302944410494</id><published>2004-09-24T01:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-02T07:33:36.950-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>un bambino di 7 anni ha fatto una foto alla sua mamma,&lt;br /&gt;con lo sfondo del parco. lei sorrideva come una bambina&lt;br /&gt;saggia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;poi lui si è messo in bocca la focaccia e si sono&lt;br /&gt;rimessi in cammino verso le terme.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8453638-109601302944410494?l=marciapiede.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8453638/posts/default/109601302944410494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8453638/posts/default/109601302944410494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://marciapiede.blogspot.com/2004/09/un-bambino-di-7-anni-ha-fatto-una-foto.html' title=''/><author><name>simone righini</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh5.googleusercontent.com/-mq-A8tMvdlA/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAADr4/X1vOS_kiCLE/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author></entry></feed>
