Plans Pezza 
Whites volumes Plans Pezza this morning dressed in a heightened innocence: the snow was the veil of a bride, so virtuous and chaste seemed to have a feeling of times past. 
melancholic gaze traveled every point of escape, slipping away along the flat, rising up to its mountains. Each pad to protect the belt and the mother with a hug 
poured into a quiet immaculate. I was very sad to contemplate now, so helpless in the recent human aims. They want to speak a language other than Abruzzo 
know, want to turn this into an industry of tourism. According to this article is approved a proposed redevelopment of the area, taking advantage of so hypocritical 
resonant echo of the disaster of the earthquake. But to connect with Ovindoli Campo Felice will to power "grinding" Plans Pezza. The richness of Abruzzo lies in its wilderness and 
not populated, throughout its history, its ancient mystery and safeguarded by the distrust of the people. This is a country that is derived from the shepherds, where people have a hard character 
as the stone of the Little Horn, which has always been suspicious and hostile to anything unfamiliar. How can they promote such a thing here? Every time we tried 
have failed miserably, leaving Abruzzo only on the bodies of concrete and rusted iron. I could do a lot of examples, but I will not embitter beyond. There are many structures 
here to recover and restore degraded, because attention does not dwell on those? We spend a lot less money and much more would safeguard the environment. I found a 
very interesting article about who deserves to be read. 
The Valley Canal and Valley of the Court, Pescasseroli to Monte Marsicano 
The rock contains everything. The long road that led into the woods dressed in a natural mystery, seemed to be observed by those plants, pareva di essere seguiti passo dopo passo per 
vedere quale fosse la nostra direzione. Quegli anfratti, quelle cavità, raccontavano storie antiche di secoli, forse millenni, trapassando sogni e antiche nostalgie. Il bosco ci guardava, come 
nessuno mai avesse fatto prima, perché non solo ci osservava, ma conosceva già la nostra storia. Quella faggeta sopra Pescasseroli era una delle più belle che avessi mai visto. Solo un’altra volta 
l’avevo percorsa, in autunno, ma me ne ricordavo solo ora. Sembrava assurdo ma riconoscevo la stessa sensazione che provavo allora guardando quegli alberi, quelle rocce, quei 
tracciati: quel bosco ci osservava ed io l’avevo riconosciuto solo perché now I felt the same thing I felt then! Silence fell on the snow, and when I stopped to listen, 
did not know whether to feel intimidated or satisfied: all the energy was just for me, with its immense potential, welcomed me to do with breast, aware perhaps that even I understood. 
trees were harvested from the sky all that energy, they were the focal point, through which, thanks to the thick of their branches they did join with the earth. That was an ancient cosmic dance 
act of love, and the forest as a cathedral, it contained everything. The Valley of the Court saliva channeled through the trees and snow, they went hand 
rose on its side walls, while its ditch it messes up jumps, holes and uneven up and down, back to the fun (though difficult). It was not the goal the objective to be pursued, but the 
path and everything that composes it, because only by living it with love you could go anywhere. 
Monte La Serra from Forca di Castiglione 
There are smaller mountains, the ones that are often not appreciated because they show less important elevations. Those that usually no one knows, and that for this 
are not popular. All trying to go higher, to demonstrate how its major point of contrast with the sky, to have importanza, di possedere considerazione, ma una 
montagna è sempre una montagna, ed un uomo a confronto è sempre troppo piccolo. Sopra qualsiasi piano, sopra qualsiasi livello, sopra ogni cosa, è necessario possedere una struttura . 
Non esistono montagne impossibili da scalare, ma solo uomini che non sono in grado di farlo. È sbagliato non dare importanza a tutti i punti di passaggio diversi e sequenziali che compongono il 
nostro percorso, perché noi siamo il percorso. La nostra vita è una lunga strada che si compone di salite e di discese, con aree di sosta e punti di sorpasso. Dobbiamo gioire di tutto per 
comprendere il meglio, just observing every nuance will be able to recognize colors, to hear them vibrate along the wavelength of their visual spectrum. I love everything that is 
wild and untainted by man, the places where no one goes, where I can finally contemplate the silence, feel the ground, feel the sky to find God while I same. This does not happen on top of Corno Grande, always too busy, but the mountains small and anonymous objects. Points of contact points are those where the soul 
diverged vertically along the head of the mountains without disturbances and alterations, where finally with your body you can make the link between the earth and sky. In the silence of the wind 
composed a melody old, who can reverse to be able to listen is a bringer of dreams. 
