Saturday, October 10, 2009

A Case For Legalizing Lone-sharking

Master of Brussels sprouts

****************************** *************





I never knew be more disturbing than a Romeo Boldrini. I seriously doubt that this is really a man, at least in the sense that we commonly give to this word.
It appeared to me when I went to interview him for the first time in prison was that of a long mantis. He was tall and wiry, a little 'bent, with the triangular face and thin, where the mouth opening was quick and smooth, almost artificial. The arms were bony and angular elbows, eyes and evanescent Celestine, from the oblique cut, totally blank. What seemed more out of place in the bizarre structure was its remarkable propensity to smile, smile sweetly and anxious as a sneer. Overall just seemed strange to be a new species of insect, a praying mantis who smiles.
I asked him to give his version on the death of Professor Gregson, found dead in the tower that served as the filing of the villa in Varese Boldrini, lying on a carpet of Brussels sprouts.
This was his story.

I've always been an avid collector of old ties. When I can, the purchase, but if they are part of other collections, I'm going to see them, to make comparisons, to date them, give it to a particular artist, those who were once called the masters. I dedicate to this activity (or rather, I should say dedicated) most of my free time. Now I have less opportunity to see new specimens and confine myself to study and classify thousands of images we already have and that my father sent me here in prison.
In truth I did not, and I did not, other interests. I was never interested in women, these young lady who strut and mimic the actresses and dancers, hens petulant and lazy. And then we'd do with a woman? Their beauty fades and soon you find yourself with an old hen rincitrullita to look at, to be followed, which calls for expressions of interest and false charges.
Slurs books instead retain their magnificence for centuries; golds continue to shine, giving back generously to the light that strikes them. The signs are there are printed for those who can interpret them, one of the highest posts in the cultural life of an era.
How much splendor and refined those skills in the tools of the impressions on the leather binder treated and sublimely colored or thinner than parchment, which desire by the owner to capture their lives and their love of culture on those objects with strong and delicate, austere, or refined, according to the predilections of the principal and the taste of the performer.
I have many correspondents who share the same passion with me, they are mostly scholars who analyze the objects in the collections of ancient books of their universities and compare them with the volumes from other areas.
There is an extensive movement of images and descriptions, which first was by letter, but then, increasingly, has come to use the possibilities offered by computer networks, allowing an immediate exchange of information.
My correspondents are almost all foreigners: Germans, Dutch, French, English and some English.
One of the leading scholars with whom I had correspondence relations, however, was an Englishman, who dealt with the history of binding and that the teaching at his university. Of course, the professorone was rather snooty and regarded with a certain enough of those poor fans who took an interest slurs at an amateur level, without the umbrella consisting of a university chair. Often, his peremptory
reviews and sarcastic hurt his victims and diminish the authority, will ensure that we in academia.
But we come to the fact that it was a harbinger of many subsequent and dramatic events.
I found two slurs in red morocco with rich gold decoration obsessively repeating a module consisting of a small circle imperfect gold, embossed in an irregular way the colorful splendor of Morocco. The specimens were well preserved and were equipped with card guard coeval with the imprint of the tuck.
Apparently there was a certain resemblance to the production attributed to the so-called Master of the scales of fish, which actually came from the workshop of the Roman brothers Gregory and John Andreoli. But both the set design, given the opposing spirals in the frame, the manner of expressing a feeling of grilled taste quite different, which made me opt for an allocation area of \u200b\u200bthe Netherlands.
The presence of two slurs are not attributable to a particular shop and features so accurate that there was no presumption of a craftsman who settled down to call Master of Brussels sprouts, because, obviously, these small, delicious vegetables were represented in ' decoration, together with other, less insistent, of vegetable origin.
I wrote an article, in German, in which I described my lucky find, and I published a magazine run by my correspondents Teutonic.
The images were printed in black and white, not represented in the best way that the decoration is repeated on the plates, but showed enough form the shape of the decoration, which was undoubtedly the feature of Brussels sprouts.
Unfortunately, Gregson read the article and wrote another, which ridiculed my award and described the form as a shield rather than as sprouts. The idea that a plant is rather rare, and never represented in heraldry unknown manuals of iconology, would be inspiring a pattern was specifically rejected as sock and amateurish.
The professor did not admit that a young scholar dare not sufficiently qualified to propose that the descriptions seemed too creative and adventurous and stated that, without doubt, the image represented consistently and repeatedly drew on the shields of the classical tradition.
a result of this harsh criticism I had difficulties for some time to publish my research in journals classified. My dream of entering the elite scholars of the binding of art seemed to have broken because of that arrogant character: ... I had to make him pay dear ...

Despite everything, I had been in relationship with the professor, who used to travel a lot and often come in Italy.
During one of his stays Italian, I invited him to my villa in the countryside, to show some examples of slurs that I found in an old palace in Parma.
Gregson arrived on time, a good English: plump, elegant and well-shaven, ready to explore the beautiful bindings that I had selected and to provide its opinion of August.
A review of the specimens, the professor graded without too much difficulty, so not dissimilar from my assessment. But when we reached the two bindings that I had attributed to the Master of sprouts, you Gregson began to hold forth on his discovery of the Master of the shields and to reproach me for my recklessness.
Soon the debate took on a live issue: everyone was convinced of his reasons and I certainly could not allow that to continue to support a thesis professorone manifestasmente false: I had to convince him of his error.
- are sprouts, Gregson, ostinatello but she knows ... knows that it is difficult to reason with her ... you see those strange impression irregularities in gold are easily the juxtaposition of the leaves of cabbage could not be explained, if it were a shield .
- But kidding, Mr. Bolduc? The footprints of the irons are pretty obvious and depict umbilicus with a round central is that of shields, shields umbilicati. The irregularities that shows you are due to an imperfection of tool, which did not allow an impression to adjust. There are examples of this type on sheets 485 and 486 of the British Museum and other slurs of Dutch or Flemish area in the Koninklijke Bibliotheek.
- No shields, professor, even a child would see it, the thickness of gold is too erratic. But perhaps you are not familiar with the Brussels sprouts, are green and round, just as shields, but they have a structure that leaves is the one represented. He knows that we produce them here, we indeed have a deposit full, where we keep them before they come to collect them to bring them to market. I'll show to make her change her mind.
But my partner began to celiare and stated that it would hardly have changed your mind about something so obvious.
course I had my plan to conduct the Gregson sprouts, sprouts, rather than to Gregson, and to force him to withdraw from its positions.
I had to make him drink, but not an brandy or another liquor flavor well defined. I finally managed to make him feel a vermouth in the area, corrected with a good dose of hypnotic. The professor did some face, but did not know the product and then, suspecting that his strange taste was due to mixing with a medicinal substance and not some rare herb of the alpine environment. Its excellent education prevented him from openly manifesting his displeasure by spitting the concoction out of his mouth, and so it ingurgitò enough because the sedative effect is manifested in a violent manner. As the man was in my power, I took advantage to tie it tightly and drag, half asleep, lying to the store where the sprouts. Here the
imbavagliai, closely tied to the legs, I opened the door of the room, which was round like a silo, and with a shove, I threw him downstairs, where awaited him a green carpet of Brussels sprouts.
Gregson fell heavily in the container, but sprouts soften the blow. He began to mumble something under his gag, and became red in the face.
took a mobile lineup and I hang inside the cylinder, then began to fall to almost two meters, to reach it.
I looked at him as he waved and tried awkwardly to emit sounds articulated, took off the gag. It seemed to be conscious again, maybe the fear had taken over the drug.
- For God's sake, Boldrini, free me and I will not say anything, whether it's a joke, the end soon.
- No, you first must admit that Brussels sprouts are like those on which he is lying.
- No, it is not possible, please ... it is you who is wrong ... everyone said ...
He was shocked and began to babble something in English, I could not understand ... Then I heard a few curses, phrases expressing strong disapproval, and other more colorful, from him I never expected. I do not like bad language makes me go into a rage. It was then that I began to shove the sprouts into his mouth, he tried to spit, but I was faster and persevering. After a while, 'I saw that screwed up his eyes to look at putting an invisible point, higher up in my face. Waved no more. These insertions contain a sprout in half-open mouth: it was funny with that greenish round that protruded from the mouth and eyes to the ball, almost out of their sockets. Do not stir.
I went and I could not even breathe. That plump and vain fool English was not breathing. But if he was looking for. She was determined to kill her. It was as if the sprouts, which he misunderstood and vilified, had avenged. They killed him, not me: I AM NOT A MICA MURDERESS!