Sunday, October 24, 2010
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Monday, October 11, 2010
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Images Of Waxing Hand
AUGUSTINE TO SPEAK Mukamba BASUKU
nowadays a certain distrust especially political front men is about to be developed on the question of identity; Mukamba Augustine chose to do the French expression that said, charity begins at home.
Chairman of the 3rd Force, leader and candidate in Banacité 2011 presidential DRCONGO has traced the history of his tribe, the origins, customs, see the geography of these ancestors point of motivation this gesture is that this reflection is to understand that development and national unity through strengthening local thnique, community etc ...
is no need to comment too follow there for everyone so in three languages, Kisuku, Lingala and French.
BERPDC
Where Are Glory Holes In Oc?
Mukamba AUGUSTIN AUGUSTIN
A scene not like everyday, exceptional courage and action unprecedented in the fields of politics, we even say that this is a first unofficial approach Congolese politicians and s address men in uniform and that person who dares this is his best AUGUSTINE Mukamba leader Bana city and President of the Third Force.
caring for the conditions and treatment of this layer of people, then active and strategic for the country, the President was pleased to send them a message of respect, recognition, encouragement and motivation as an exhortation brief senior officers, junior commissioned officer and all battalions of the units that compose the Congolese armed forces.
In his address, the president honor and praise the efforts and determination of military Congolese in the commitment and the pursuit of saving the national flag against the invaders, he also encouraged his soldiers by reminding them of their role in the life of a particular country on the DRC and its current situation. this behavior by the model is now running for politicians change their looks meet a soldier who has not the duty, which also requires a consideration for the performance but the soldier has the right as a citizen and supporter of others.
the soldier deserves a customized treatment given his commitment, courage and sacrifice everything, being Augustine developed his excellence Mukamba wants to address his peers on their politicians to look the man in uniform is not there to serve but also deserves to be served and the work and how it related to the means that their are arranged.
details in the images and message of the leader.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Monday, October 4, 2010
Watch Bangbros On Phone Free
life back to normal
Il décolle the price tags on the shelves and clears the dishes piled up, boxes for packing, food - of soft things with the sauce - and flyers at the door. Like every morning. One last look at the apartment on the old chair, it is still warm, the cat sleeps on it, and he descends the stairs, avoiding cigarette butts.
tumbling into the street, in the subway. A current of air, a chill in the breakdown. Oh people, hello people! Push girls to double bag. Yeah, there are always girls with two bags in the subway, one for the vintage store portfolio, the notebook pocket and a pistol and another, larger and slipped under the shoulder, whose sole function seems to be coming inevitably sink into a hill, a chin, or anything fuck who else in its path. She'll move it. No, I will not ask forgiveness. Pushes people, pushing assholes in their shells. In their frames there are pieces of metal he did not, in their silhouettes transparencies he does not see in their destination routes that are not hers.
Grows elbow, pushes briefcases, attachés-cases, pushes busy lives and go from 11.30 brainstorming around the coffee machine (with soup? with tomato?), pushes the dirty paper in his shoe, earth scraper and dig the ground, blowing the dust off his sleeve, no more breath, cleans a foot shy of the chewing gum stuck, gets rid of the newspaper which was attached, a quick glance at the headlines, is his idea of the situation. And looks into the void. Like everyone else. Wait. That the train arrives, the movement runs out, there is more than double bags and more shells, more of headlines in the newspapers, only one horse at the other end of the dock and grass that cut off his face. Cars without passengers pass under the neon light lead. The interconnections are interrupted at the Gare Saint-Lazare. Failure on the network.
Leave him be, let it slide. Nobody touches him, that nobody rubs. There is voltage, then the high voltage signal. It's going to jump, it will do damage, bite by ricochet, the danger is never where one expects. But no, haha, no worries, there is nothing, nothing much resigned bouncing around without causing collateral damage, the rattle that comes in a smooth finish vague impatience, anger that is long gone, the enervation that run in a loop on one foot, snot plastered into the fold of the wrist. The first to vomit clean. 
tumbling into the street, in the subway. A current of air, a chill in the breakdown. Oh people, hello people! Push girls to double bag. Yeah, there are always girls with two bags in the subway, one for the vintage store portfolio, the notebook pocket and a pistol and another, larger and slipped under the shoulder, whose sole function seems to be coming inevitably sink into a hill, a chin, or anything fuck who else in its path. She'll move it. No, I will not ask forgiveness. Pushes people, pushing assholes in their shells. In their frames there are pieces of metal he did not, in their silhouettes transparencies he does not see in their destination routes that are not hers.
Grows elbow, pushes briefcases, attachés-cases, pushes busy lives and go from 11.30 brainstorming around the coffee machine (with soup? with tomato?), pushes the dirty paper in his shoe, earth scraper and dig the ground, blowing the dust off his sleeve, no more breath, cleans a foot shy of the chewing gum stuck, gets rid of the newspaper which was attached, a quick glance at the headlines, is his idea of the situation. And looks into the void. Like everyone else. Wait. That the train arrives, the movement runs out, there is more than double bags and more shells, more of headlines in the newspapers, only one horse at the other end of the dock and grass that cut off his face. Cars without passengers pass under the neon light lead. The interconnections are interrupted at the Gare Saint-Lazare. Failure on the network.
Leave him be, let it slide. Nobody touches him, that nobody rubs. There is voltage, then the high voltage signal. It's going to jump, it will do damage, bite by ricochet, the danger is never where one expects. But no, haha, no worries, there is nothing, nothing much resigned bouncing around without causing collateral damage, the rattle that comes in a smooth finish vague impatience, anger that is long gone, the enervation that run in a loop on one foot, snot plastered into the fold of the wrist. The first to vomit clean.
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