What Happens With Tawnee Stone

Today Groane wore autumn. The

Groane, understood as the Groane Park, is one of those paradoxes of space-time that travel along the high Po plain in Lombardy, in a land locked in the grip of some of the most terrible highways entire panorama Italian road-there Axis crossing the Simplon, Varese, Comasina, Milan-Lakes and Milan-Turin, Milan-Meda, Monza, Saronno and Saronnesi where clusters of warehouses crammed into the spaces that the proliferation of houses not yet occupied, incredibly open cracks green carved over millennia by rivers and streams (Bozzente, Lura, Lambro, Seveso, Olona) and, perhaps because they lie just below the horizon (the plain, events, civilization), survivors of the cement.

The Groane are the best and the worst of this land of its inhabitants.

are crossed by roads that are laying eyes on one side and the other on the campaign of 4000 meters of Monte Rosa, but at 8 am the slowest of the roads are clogged with cars looking for a utopian escape from the road main.

are a maze of paths out of this world, mindful of a plain deserted and foggy, but you often have to take them to turn around a prostitute who takes advantage of this secluded world to do its job, on the edge of city \u200b\u200bwith the hypocrisy away, but not too much.

are mud and earth, but also tires and rubble that have lost their way to the landfill.

are farms and domestic and wild fauna, but also a dormitory town, called only "satellite city", not even the dignity of a name-and shadows that roam the forest without an apparent purpose but rather doubtful.

And if we gave the contract to land management in Switzerland?