34 Weeks Pregnant Belly Pain

and I remember the line I remember

Carousel was not advertising. It was my evening rendezvous with Caballero and Carmencita, with Calimero, with Tweety and Sylvester, the children who jumped on the mattress and sang bidibodibù, but above all, with that fantastic character who spoke an incomprehensible language and shaped by the same line on which he walked unabated. It was he, Linea. I called him the magic man. He was talkative, fickle, if you took it all. He had a loud laugh and a contagious and a shrill voice with which to communicate even with his designer to whom you could see the hand that intervened only to supplement or to disrupt the adventures of line. Along the way (in the unending search for Lagostina cookware, add in hindsight), succeeded him in all colors: The object fell on him, he found musical instruments, guns, planes. And that hand was always there, ready to redesign that an accident had taken away (the nose or foot) or draw what line required. I did not understand what he wanted, then, but I was fascinated by his language, by his anger, his way of communicating with the gentleman who, lucky him, he could understand the words that the little man Magic's whispering in your ear. Once, just finished the carousel, my mother told me that if I went straight to bed I would see something "secret". Then he turned off the television and made me look at that bright dot in the center of the screen remained dark. He told me that was the magic man who was falling asleep too. Slowly, that dot is getting smaller because he was closing his eyes ... and we had to plan ... and go to sleep ... otherwise we would have woken up ... I protested, waving his arms just as the magic man, saying I was high and that did not believe her. And I went to bed, muttering. During the night I got up. I went to living room on tiptoe, careful not to wake anyone. And said goodnight to the television. I remember Pannonian