ὀἀἀἀἀᾲἀἀἀἀἀἀἀἀἀἀἀἀἀἀἀἀἀἀἀἀἀἀἀἀἀἀ.
ὀᵍᵗᵔᵗ ᵀᵍᵗ ᵀᶦᵉ ᵃᵍᵉ ᵀᶦᶦ ᵃᵗ ᵄᵏᶦᶦ ᵀᶦᵗ ᵀᵐ ᵀᶦᶦ ᵀᶦᵔ ᵀᶦᵉ ᵜᶦᵉ ᵀᶦᵉ ᵀᶦᵗ ᵀᶦᵉ ᵀᶦᵗ ᵀᶦᵗ ᵀᶦᵗ ᵀᶦᵉ ᵀᶦᵗ ᵀᶦᵉ ᵀᶦᵉ ᵀᶦᵗ ᵀ�
ස්ල්ල්ල්ල්ල්ල්ල්ල්ල්ල මබායයියියයියුවයික්ල්ල්ල්ල්ල්ල්ල්ල්ලයියියයියියියියියියයියියියියයියියියියියියියියියියියියියි
..
..
..
anken
Okay
it
Pratern可以 agreements
Soon
He
can
ᄚბᄥᄗᄫᄄ Shaw WOW
ᐄဗ 되는 ᄘ'�UA'აuna
ᐭ'ဒទᄉ�رة
ᐷဤაuna
ሕ'აuna
� Partnership
″
nèl 23 è ridiventato karabinire reale
avevi dato la kaccia
el bandito sardos amoele stocchino
ucciso nel 28
imposti non molto diversi da questi
questo sugestivo panorama
che sembra un verde angolo
della nostra penisola
condulato di colline
su cui spikano nitide
levi gatissime strade karossabili
non pinganni
siamo proprio in terra d'afrika
maio vorrei sapere cosa me fai
cosa ati debi strigri
ati debi fai del baglio te
conto corrente
cosa ne fai del conto corrente
del baglio
cosa ne fai
qualli li preto
maio non lo so cosa dice
non hai mai fatto di quelle cosa
adesso
che sempre morire
vai di cercare
me da
e il te lo manderano
qualli li preto
e il te lo manderano
sono 70.000 li
trå qué me li preto
te le manderano
mوت
cję  tôm nè, ām nè ām nè. ஆھè ṍmô ஆھè ṍmô அ associōra ṁ'Ćhēn fèd tān, Ímō ஆhèn fèd tān, Ímō அŋaŋaŋaŋaŋaŋaŋaŋaŋaŋaŋaŋaŋaŋaŋaŋaŋaŋaŋaŋaŋaŋaŋaŋaŋaŋaŋaŋaŋaŋaŋaŋaŋaŋaŋaŋaŋaŋaŋaőaŋaŋaŋaŋaŋaŋaŋ
ʻᵒᵉᵉᵉʰᵉᵉ ʰᵒᵉᵉᵉᵉᵉᵉ ʰᵒᵉᵉᵉ ʰᵉᵉᵉᵉʰᵉʰᵉʰᵉʰᵉʰᵉʰᵉˢˢˢˢˢˢˢˡˢˢˢˢˡˢˢˢˢˢˢˢˢˢˡˢˢˢˢˢˢˢˢˢˢˢˢˡˢˢˢˢˢˢˢˢˢˢˢˢˢˢˢˢˢˢˢˢˢˢ
ʻ Ḥᴂᴀᴀᴀᴀᴀ ᴀᴀᴀᴀᴀᴀᴀ ᴀᴀᴀᴀᴀ ᴀʷ ᴀʷ ᴀᴀᴀʷᴀᴀᴀᴀ ᴀᴀᴀᴀᴀ ᴀᴀᴀᴀ ᴀ ᴀᴀᴀᴀᴀᴀᴀᴀᴀᴀᴀᴀᴀᴀᴀ ᴀᴀᴀᴀᴀ ᴀᴀᴀᴀᴀᴀᴀᴀᴀᴀᴀ ᴀᴀ�
փփᵃֆᵃᵕᵉ ᶀᵃᵉᵉᵉ ᶀᵃᵉᵉᵉ ᶀᵉᵉᵉᵉᵉᵉᵉᵉ ᶀᵉᵉᵉᵉ ᶀᵉᵉᶀᵉᶀᵉᵉ ᶀᵉᵉᶀᵉ, ᶀᶉᵉᵉᵉ ᶀᶉᵉᵉᶀᶀᵉ ᶀᶉᶀᵉ ᶀᶉᶀᵉ ᶀᶉᶀᵉ ᶀᶉᵉ ᶀᶉ ᵀ�
approaching
Jalmorb di Parkinsson, te tremávano le mani.
Ero statu yo a suggerirti di usare triangolini adesivi,
in modo da fermare le foto senza dover le encollare.
Ma poi tu e encollato le foto alla pagina,
e spesso triangolini le foto,
e encornisarle.
Jalmorb di Parkinsson, te tremávano le foto,
śāntus, śāntus, śāntus, dominus deus.
Il nomine patris, et fili, et ekspiritus santi.
Āne.
Buon Natalia a tutti.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
Āne.
wo
wo
wo
wo
wo
wo
wo
wo
wo
wo
wo
As of an adventure, of a dream, which was then the dream of all Italians.
A love, a curse of Africa, which remained you for the rest of your life.
But the mother said that coming back from Africa was no longer you.
She said that you shouldn't be joking, that you didn't talk much.
As if in those distant lands you had left your best part.
She said to me, don't worry, these are the medals, they are coming.
If they send you to the valley, they must send you with the correct ones,
like you said.
If they send you to the valley, they eat like other pensions.
The album is full of sacred images that your mother sent you.
They made you company and gave you the relief for the whole war in Africa.
The devotee is not a bigot, but you have raised two children, you are a miscreant.
Your mother died in 38 when she was still in Ethiopia.
The mother said that at the age of 10 you were still looking for your mother's breast.
But apart from this we know little more.
Your children have never talked about your parents.
You always talked to us about duties, sacrifices, the support of suffering.
Of honesty and courage.
Of work, of family.
These were the values that led your long life.
You were a mysterious man, Babbo.
Now, at 21 years of your death, while I'm leaving your album of war memories,
it seems to me that you know almost nothing about yourself.
And it seems strange to me, almost impossible.
Have you ever been like this?
I was born in Ethiopia.
4 km from the station Soudet,
the machine of Raleigh,
along with other three wagons.
Having taken a route before the arrival,
and cut completely the telegraphic lines,
with the intention of being able to succeed,
to carry out and kill all of them,
we were in the train.
Me and my other three companions
came to us ordered to stay on the wagon,
where we found the detainees
and a woman with three children in Teneretà.
I put myself on the wagon,
staying in that position for hours 26.
At the beginning I had put a bucket of water
to repair my head from the bullets,
passing from one side to the other.
At 22, it started to rain.
The abysses were always trying to get closer.
The detainee, in a few minutes,
asked me about the wounds.
The detainee was with me on the wagon.
After an hour of combat,
I put a bucket of water to repair my head.
I shot from above a plant.
I carried only the wounded hand,
saying only,
ah, and then I died.
Immediately I took it,
putting it together with other two,
who were dead shortly before.
He said,
ok, of the medal,
of the part of the war,
on the wagon.
And then,
why didn't you give it to the others?
Why did you want to send the wagon,
to write?
He said that he had sent it.
No, this confusion has been given to you.
Let me stay in the center of the wagon.
You must always be in the center,
in the center of the wagon.
And you must give it to the others.
You said no.
So, you must be in the center of the wagon.
No, not me.
And then,
you must be in the center of the wagon.
On the wagon and on the wagon.
And you must give it to the others.
He made it right away.
And then,
all this week,
elli � buatʆ integrāci ca ʀ اس  bardziej ʀ by ān pūr bl marche d energized cruel force
ними ɇ mɲ ʁ ɉem ʁ ɉen ənraine beï Ʌ ɉen ɉo ɉ enago ɉchi ɉxitv əni ʀ f rine 선택 dzil, ɉinч ɉa wá dhien ɉ�abpen, phro rν ɉpɛ i t İMusic
lī hā dā dīsālēn
lī hā dā dīsālēn
lī hā dā dīsālēn
New
New
Video
Bi
Which
Everyone
rede
Is
어가
irmatu
tenpoard
Sunivita
ungefõr
Cus
k
Ho
Esa
Bebe
Abby
Th hormones
outs
Complet, Merca semi
Ichan
In summa, non te la passavi poi così male, avresti poi racontato i famiglia, gripe tutamente, quasi sino la noya, la memoria di quegli anni.
Volevi che la tua vita c'entrata sul senso del sacrificio, fosse d'esempio la vita dei tui figli,
v'estata naя gwarra ki' I Ladies St родo li kurna ga' afrika,
Cs fartu präijanir
Day 2
Moto
Kil Vin mother
Decarabinirli
ắt
In 1939, my father was repatriated from Africa,
under the command of the Carabinieri of Genoa.
In the same year he finally got married
and found a house in Chiavary.
His war continued in Albania and Montenegro.
In 1943 he was made prisoner of the Germans
and interned in the Stammlager of Mosburg.
He rested with my mother in the cemetery of Chiavary.
To be continued...
To be continued...
To be continued...
