Post by account_disabled on Dec 23, 2023 4:10:55 GMT -6
I have just returned from a week's holiday and I learned that I have won the latest Vincirobin literary competition , organized by the Robin Edizioni publishing house. The newsletter that the publishing house publishes offers around thirty titles, the latest releases from their catalogue. The competition consists of writing a story that contains those titles . It's the third time I've participated and this time it went well. The winner will receive all those books as a gift. I propose the story here, highlighting the titles of the books in bold. The last song Joshua came home. It was dark and raining .
That day too he had sung stories, amazed the audience at the Caffè Impero of the villa, where he had been performing lately, with the lions of Damascus and the panthers of Algiers Special Data surrounding him. He had brought the intellectuals into the kitchen and told them the story of a nose that rebels and stops capturing smells. That evening they had fun at Villa Maltraversi . He sang in the name of and at the hands of the devil , it was said. His stories were stories of harmony, even of blood. He used a unique language.
From a marginal language he had created an idiom made of wavy words, of spells that not even the Wizard of Oz would have been able to weave. Paul Is Dead? It was a song he sang often when he worked at Obama's Burnout , a small-town club in 2012. There, the block of illusions that she had erected in the audience had been immense and everyone had applauded her. He thought back to his writings, the collection Racconti di Provincia 2010 and the Practical Manual of the Italian Revolutionary , because before singing them, he wrote and published his stories. After leaving the city, he headed towards the woods, where they said a satanic sect was hiding.
That day too he had sung stories, amazed the audience at the Caffè Impero of the villa, where he had been performing lately, with the lions of Damascus and the panthers of Algiers Special Data surrounding him. He had brought the intellectuals into the kitchen and told them the story of a nose that rebels and stops capturing smells. That evening they had fun at Villa Maltraversi . He sang in the name of and at the hands of the devil , it was said. His stories were stories of harmony, even of blood. He used a unique language.
From a marginal language he had created an idiom made of wavy words, of spells that not even the Wizard of Oz would have been able to weave. Paul Is Dead? It was a song he sang often when he worked at Obama's Burnout , a small-town club in 2012. There, the block of illusions that she had erected in the audience had been immense and everyone had applauded her. He thought back to his writings, the collection Racconti di Provincia 2010 and the Practical Manual of the Italian Revolutionary , because before singing them, he wrote and published his stories. After leaving the city, he headed towards the woods, where they said a satanic sect was hiding.