A housewife at the Boat Furniture Show
I have traveled a couple thousand miles in the ocean. I have taken part in some Italian, European, world, Sunday and, above all, “wicker wine bottle” championships. I have had some medals, even if made
I have traveled a couple thousand miles in the ocean. I have taken part in some Italian, European, world, Sunday and, above all, “wicker wine bottle” championships. I have had some medals, even if made
I want to say first that the following is not a watershed tale; so, it doesn’t contain swear words, curses, innuendo, obscene jokes, risqué pictures, alcoholic drinks or soft drugs. The topic is, indeed, scabrous:
Who among us has never dreamed about having (or being) a tug? I’ve been dreaming about that since I was a little girl, when I saw the Disney’s Little Toot cartoon dealing with a baby
Offshore sailing. Staying in the middle of the sea I confess. I like waiting rooms. Airports, trains. Hallways of public offices. Entrance halls of railway stations. Anarchist, unidentitary, uncharacterised and uprooted places: what anthropologists call
Sailors missing in the Atlantic Bright is a white Oceanis Clipper 473; she left Horta with two passengers on board, Aldo Revello and Antonio Voinea, on April 28 2018. Weather and sea conditions were good.
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