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<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/rss2full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><rss xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" version="2.0"><channel><atom:id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760500343063517290</atom:id><lastBuildDate>Mon, 09 Nov 2009 14:14:03 +0000</lastBuildDate><title>Il sussurro di Even</title><description>Avventure sussurrate dalla cittadella volante di Even, dove i Santi guardano come gli uomini si oppongono al peccato per vincere la loro battaglia per la redenzione.</description><link>http://sussurrodieven.blogspot.com/</link><managingEditor>sussurrodieven@altervista.org (Ale)</managingEditor><generator>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>132</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IlSussurroDiEven" type="application/rss+xml" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com" /><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760500343063517290.post-2621398248167928917</guid><pubDate>Thu, 05 Nov 2009 21:01:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-05T23:45:35.789+01:00</atom:updated><title>131 - NEI CORTILI DEL POZZO</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~3/7mj_9m91MiI/131-nei-cortili-del-pozzo.html</link><author>sussurrodieven@altervista.org (Ale)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3f6lL7qNzmM/SvNTwhy1IFI/AAAAAAAAAg0/nV_VPPttBYk/s72-c/2009-11-05_AttrezziDaScasso.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">11</thr:total><description>"Forza! Non perdiamo tempo!"
Gilead incita i compagni, mentre sfila la spada dal corpo di un nemico. Isabel annuisce: la morning star è sporca del sangue del suo avversario, che ora giace ai suoi...&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~4/7mj_9m91MiI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://sussurrodieven.blogspot.com/2009/11/131-nei-cortili-del-pozzo.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760500343063517290.post-5821184961641792038</guid><pubDate>Tue, 03 Nov 2009 10:16:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-03T11:19:54.546+01:00</atom:updated><title>130 - COLPIRE AL CUORE</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~3/AbKHCX_OJ6g/130-colpire-al-cuore.html</link><author>sussurrodieven@altervista.org (Ale)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3f6lL7qNzmM/SvADnUXujPI/AAAAAAAAAgs/kMCcXlWDbMk/s72-c/2009-11-03_Cortili+del+Pozzo.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">18</thr:total><description>Isabel e Rune seguono Don Manuel Candela lungo la navata sinistra della basilica. Il monaco tiene stretto per un braccio Jil, che gli cammina a fianco strascicando i piedi, ma senza opporre...&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~4/AbKHCX_OJ6g" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://sussurrodieven.blogspot.com/2009/11/130-colpire-al-cuore.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760500343063517290.post-5761890509515766</guid><pubDate>Fri, 30 Oct 2009 20:12:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-31T13:01:50.500+01:00</atom:updated><title>129 - INCONTRO FORTUNATO</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~3/3UNuXBiLOW8/129-incontro-fortunato.html</link><author>sussurrodieven@altervista.org (Ale)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3f6lL7qNzmM/SutdvmZfwvI/AAAAAAAAAgk/viXmFpCuhIs/s72-c/2009-10-30_Jil.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">3</thr:total><description>"Preso!" Gilead afferra il ragazzino per una spalla, trascinandolo oltre l'angolo del piccolo vicolo in cui si trova. Gimble osserva la strada per accertarsi che nessuno abbia notato alcunchè. I...&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~4/3UNuXBiLOW8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://sussurrodieven.blogspot.com/2009/10/129-incontro-fortunato.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760500343063517290.post-271365218202851293</guid><pubDate>Thu, 22 Oct 2009 08:17:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-22T12:36:25.588+02:00</atom:updated><title>128 - TEMPO DI CHIARIMENTI</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~3/bXaeR07TT_Q/128-tempo-di-chiarimenti.html</link><author>sussurrodieven@altervista.org (Ale)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3f6lL7qNzmM/SuA1NIa6KvI/AAAAAAAAAgc/tIomLcX5q5I/s72-c/2009-10-22_Priestess.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">28</thr:total><description>E' tarda notte quando Hearst rientra alla Stella del Sud. I compagni lo guardano in silenzio, mentre avanza con lo sguardo basso. La taverna è deserta, ed anche l'oste s'è già andato a...&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~4/bXaeR07TT_Q" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://sussurrodieven.blogspot.com/2009/10/128-tempo-di-chiarimenti.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760500343063517290.post-4178744738185561089</guid><pubDate>Tue, 20 Oct 2009 20:55:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-21T08:14:44.967+02:00</atom:updated><title>127 - GELIDA PASSIONE</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~3/HdR1iM9uVos/127-gelida-passione.html</link><author>sussurrodieven@altervista.org (Ale)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3f6lL7qNzmM/St4j0_znU6I/AAAAAAAAAgU/_L0TH7FN8kM/s72-c/2009-10-20_Bordello.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">19</thr:total><description>"Sei tornato..."
Hearst entra, senza dire una parola. La Casa che non c'è, nel buio della sera, riacquista il suo fascino malizioso e accogliente, nascondendo dietro i drappi rossi nell'atrio il...&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~4/HdR1iM9uVos" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://sussurrodieven.blogspot.com/2009/10/127-gelida-passione.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760500343063517290.post-6892326648307859080</guid><pubDate>Fri, 16 Oct 2009 08:55:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-16T11:38:25.913+02:00</atom:updated><title>126 - NUOVI PIANI</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~3/1BLjHVEyKTg/126-nuovi-piani.html</link><author>sussurrodieven@altervista.org (Ale)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">17</thr:total><description>E' un pomeriggio afoso, in cui un sole malato e caldo sembra volersi allineare all'aria pesante che si respira a Salamanca. I venti Anteliesi, che normalmente dovrebbero crescere d'intensità con...&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~4/1BLjHVEyKTg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://sussurrodieven.blogspot.com/2009/10/126-nuovi-piani.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760500343063517290.post-5960772286453514413</guid><pubDate>Tue, 13 Oct 2009 12:13:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-13T14:18:17.812+02:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Personaggi</category><title>125 - HEARST HELMSLEY</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~3/gvdaGXoiNyY/125-hearst-helmsley.html</link><author>sussurrodieven@altervista.org (Ale)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3f6lL7qNzmM/StRWkiJv9AI/AAAAAAAAAgM/9TDRDC2lh5s/s72-c/2009-10-13_Hearst.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">11</thr:total><description>Hearst cammina silenzioso nel trambusto delle strade di Salamanca. Totalmente immerso nei suoi pensieri, non si cura del vociare preoccupato dei cittadini, mentre istintivamente muove i suoi passi...&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~4/gvdaGXoiNyY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://sussurrodieven.blogspot.com/2009/10/125-hearst-helmsley.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760500343063517290.post-7509018609657840678</guid><pubDate>Wed, 07 Oct 2009 10:16:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-07T12:24:00.814+02:00</atom:updated><title>124 - SCELTE ED ETICHETTE</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~3/cIXmM0i7K-g/124-scelte-ed-etichette.html</link><author>sussurrodieven@altervista.org (Ale)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3f6lL7qNzmM/SsxqowisKxI/AAAAAAAAAfg/NzN28pI-h40/s72-c/2009-10-07_LadyNotte.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">28</thr:total><description>Occhi Blu apre raggiante la porta della Casa che non c'è. Il sole del mattino le illumina il volto e gli occhi, che brillano di felicità. Hearst muove i suoi passi all'interno, silenzioso, e si siede...&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~4/cIXmM0i7K-g" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://sussurrodieven.blogspot.com/2009/10/124-scelte-ed-etichette.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760500343063517290.post-4927293350320565777</guid><pubDate>Fri, 02 Oct 2009 18:13:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-03T15:38:37.402+02:00</atom:updated><title>123 - OCCHIO PER OCCHIO...</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~3/W19ZUKF1NPo/123-occhio-per-occhio.html</link><author>sussurrodieven@altervista.org (Ale)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3f6lL7qNzmM/SsZDGFleqjI/AAAAAAAAAfY/szSwkvkq11o/s72-c/2009-10-02_VieSalamanca.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">11</thr:total><description>Il sole del mattino filtra pigro attraverso le imposte della Stella del Sud, assieme al trambusto delle voci nelle strade. Un trambusto preoccupato, intenso, insolito, differente dal consueto...&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~4/W19ZUKF1NPo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://sussurrodieven.blogspot.com/2009/10/123-occhio-per-occhio.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760500343063517290.post-169047389854573367</guid><pubDate>Wed, 30 Sep 2009 16:30:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-09-30T20:10:25.976+02:00</atom:updated><title>122 - MANI INSANGUINATE</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~3/hzTHkFdw8Fg/122-mani-insanguinate.html</link><author>sussurrodieven@altervista.org (Ale)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3f6lL7qNzmM/SsOe0uFpkmI/AAAAAAAAAfQ/ir_ncc5gKco/s72-c/2009-09-30_ManiInsanguinate.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">4</thr:total><description>La risata sguaiata di Kade riempie i Cortili del Pozzo.
"Ih ih ih ih... sorprendente! Due piccioni con una fava! Non potevo desiderare di meglio... chi avrebbe mai sperato di eliminare in un sol...&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~4/hzTHkFdw8Fg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://sussurrodieven.blogspot.com/2009/09/122-mani-insanguinate.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760500343063517290.post-7823166364259033168</guid><pubDate>Thu, 10 Sep 2009 08:03:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-09-10T10:55:36.186+02:00</atom:updated><title>121 - L'IRONIA DELLA SORTE</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~3/H78GLtf8vMg/121-lironia-della-sorte.html</link><author>sussurrodieven@altervista.org (Ale)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3f6lL7qNzmM/Sqi97cB92lI/AAAAAAAAAfI/dNqqRtcPJlE/s72-c/2009-09-10_Lupo.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">14</thr:total><description>Il Licantropo si getta sulla rete di corda spessa che blocca la sua fuga. Con gli artigli affilati cerca di distruggerla, si aggrappa, come per arrampicarsi.
Le frecce di Gilead però non gli danno...&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~4/H78GLtf8vMg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://sussurrodieven.blogspot.com/2009/09/121-lironia-della-sorte.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760500343063517290.post-5073040094748042065</guid><pubDate>Tue, 08 Sep 2009 14:03:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-09-08T16:08:10.026+02:00</atom:updated><title>120 - LA TRAPPOLA E IL LUPO</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~3/GBRFK0N9QcE/120-la-trappola-e-il-lupo.html</link><author>sussurrodieven@altervista.org (Ale)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3f6lL7qNzmM/SqZlJN_LwTI/AAAAAAAAAfA/38C39NIA6MU/s72-c/2009-09-08_Licantropo.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><description>Anche l'ultima freccia è pronta ricoperta di Bagliore Argenteo. Gilead la posa al suo fianco. L'elfo, inginocchiato su una delle balconate, osserva l'oscurità dell'insolita arena sottostante dove...&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~4/GBRFK0N9QcE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://sussurrodieven.blogspot.com/2009/09/120-la-trappola-e-il-lupo.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760500343063517290.post-2142439470876128442</guid><pubDate>Mon, 07 Sep 2009 17:59:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-09-07T20:02:59.889+02:00</atom:updated><title>119 - LA PAROLA DI KADE</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~3/QNT_UdazvXU/119-la-parola-di-kade.html</link><author>sussurrodieven@altervista.org (Ale)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3f6lL7qNzmM/SqVKKmtAkZI/AAAAAAAAAe4/n5lf1ycmWOE/s72-c/2009-09-07_SimboloAlivonde.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">2</thr:total><description>Kade ridacchia, appollaiato sulla spalla del suo gregario. I due si trovano su una balconata che collega due abitazioni in pietra, immerse nell'oscurità dei Cortili del Pozzo. L'area dove le Lacrime...&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~4/QNT_UdazvXU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://sussurrodieven.blogspot.com/2009/09/119-la-parola-di-kade.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760500343063517290.post-1521117283739347536</guid><pubDate>Fri, 04 Sep 2009 09:16:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-09-04T12:51:57.036+02:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Personaggi</category><title>118 - SMARRIMENTO</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~3/CYPnStDOzhc/118-smarrimento.html</link><author>sussurrodieven@altervista.org (Ale)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3f6lL7qNzmM/SqDhcE_kpvI/AAAAAAAAAew/dd9Ajk9b6zI/s72-c/2009-09-04_Pioggia.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">17</thr:total><description>Smarrimento, perplessità. Nessuno sa cosa pensare. Il temporale mattutino scroscia lungo le strade di Salamanca. Hearst lo osserva dalla finestra.
I compagni al tavolo della locanda sembrano ognuno...&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~4/CYPnStDOzhc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://sussurrodieven.blogspot.com/2009/09/118-smarrimento.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760500343063517290.post-2560234529672674044</guid><pubDate>Mon, 31 Aug 2009 19:20:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-09-01T09:23:12.550+02:00</atom:updated><title>117 - LA PROPOSTA</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~3/KM6r3RvJUgg/117-la-proposta.html</link><author>sussurrodieven@altervista.org (Ale)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3f6lL7qNzmM/SpxGSEudAYI/AAAAAAAAAeo/2aCGFtC1avw/s72-c/2009-08-31_Kade.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">3</thr:total><description>I Cortili del Pozzo: indubbiamente una delle zone meno sicure di Salamanca. Case di pietra fatiscenti, alcune diroccate. E un silenzio insolito, la sensazione di mille occhi che osservano dalle...&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~4/KM6r3RvJUgg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://sussurrodieven.blogspot.com/2009/08/117-la-proposta.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760500343063517290.post-782051118443155580</guid><pubDate>Wed, 26 Aug 2009 09:28:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-08-26T12:23:18.771+02:00</atom:updated><title>116 - DI INSONNIA E CONFIDENZE</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~3/fssAqYN69as/116-di-insonnia-e-confidenze.html</link><author>sussurrodieven@altervista.org (Ale)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3f6lL7qNzmM/SpUMyz4m6kI/AAAAAAAAAeg/Hj4vJtrwpf0/s72-c/2009-08-26_Candela.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">22</thr:total><description>Toc toc toc...
Gimble si rigira nel letto, sicuro di aver sognato.
Toc toc toc...
Lo gnomo apre gli occhi. La sua vista appannata gli garantisce che nessuna luce filtra dalle imposte. E' ancora...&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~4/fssAqYN69as" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://sussurrodieven.blogspot.com/2009/08/116-di-insonnia-e-confidenze.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760500343063517290.post-9016785858212616725</guid><pubDate>Mon, 24 Aug 2009 09:55:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-08-24T12:59:03.133+02:00</atom:updated><title>115 - MARA</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~3/jxKDnwf5Gbw/115-mara.html</link><author>sussurrodieven@altervista.org (Ale)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3f6lL7qNzmM/SpJxbdmI-uI/AAAAAAAAAeA/zcY_T6vY2D8/s72-c/2009-08-24_Mara.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">12</thr:total><description>Benito raccoglie alcuni bicchieri e i piatti vuoti. Juan fa cenno all'oste di riportarli pieni: rum, caffè e quelle gustose frittelle ricoperte di zucchero di canna. L'assenza di Hearst, ma...&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~4/jxKDnwf5Gbw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://sussurrodieven.blogspot.com/2009/08/115-mara.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760500343063517290.post-6990597734303754038</guid><pubDate>Thu, 20 Aug 2009 09:30:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-08-20T11:43:22.446+02:00</atom:updated><title>114 - LADY NOTTE</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~3/nAgV3jnWNDI/114-lady-notte.html</link><author>sussurrodieven@altervista.org (Ale)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3f6lL7qNzmM/So0ZUEfElfI/AAAAAAAAAd4/H2do1tbfD4w/s72-c/2009-08-20_LadyNotte.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">14</thr:total><description>La stanza al piano superiore della Casa che non c'è profuma di incensi ed essenze di paesi lontani.
Hearst viene pervaso dai suoi sensi. Un letto a baldacchino, lenzuola profumate. Una vasca da...&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~4/nAgV3jnWNDI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://sussurrodieven.blogspot.com/2009/08/114-lady-notte.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760500343063517290.post-7305683023233665459</guid><pubDate>Tue, 18 Aug 2009 09:31:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-08-18T11:47:20.564+02:00</atom:updated><title>113 - ACQUAMARINA</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~3/y5yr9kZoADY/113-acquamarina.html</link><author>sussurrodieven@altervista.org (Ale)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3f6lL7qNzmM/Sop3CKK6yhI/AAAAAAAAAdw/88GTgeMU-mc/s72-c/2009-08-18_Acquamarina.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><description>"E' un'acquamarina."
Il gioielliere rigira la pietra tra le sue mani mostrandola a Hearst.
"Vale la bellezza di seicento pezzi d'oro, ma ve la lascerò per cinquecento; proprio perché siete voi,...&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~4/y5yr9kZoADY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://sussurrodieven.blogspot.com/2009/08/113-acquamarina.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760500343063517290.post-3679371009082273440</guid><pubDate>Thu, 13 Aug 2009 07:09:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-08-13T10:58:33.346+02:00</atom:updated><title>112 - CADIUS</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~3/7VVALo-KCrw/112-cadius.html</link><author>sussurrodieven@altervista.org (Ale)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3f6lL7qNzmM/SoPVizuOR7I/AAAAAAAAAdo/e8VuduIX748/s72-c/2009-08-13_Cammeo.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">3</thr:total><description>La casa di Cadius è piccola ma fresca, arroccata lungo una ripida stradina secondaria esposta ai venti anteliesi, sul lato nord orientale della collina di Salamanca. Il sole e la brezza del mattino...&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~4/7VVALo-KCrw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://sussurrodieven.blogspot.com/2009/08/112-cadius.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760500343063517290.post-5318850711517430861</guid><pubDate>Tue, 11 Aug 2009 13:54:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-08-11T18:34:18.296+02:00</atom:updated><title>111 - RAPPORTO AL CAPITANO</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~3/rfguVdFMo00/111-rapporto-al-capitano.html</link><author>sussurrodieven@altervista.org (Ale)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><description>Il sole caldo del mattino filtra attraverso le piccole finestre della sala dove Vincent Meis ascolta con attenzione il resoconto della missione presso Pinàr del Rio. Quando Gilead termina il racconto...&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~4/rfguVdFMo00" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://sussurrodieven.blogspot.com/2009/08/111-rapporto-al-capitano.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760500343063517290.post-2757408438904750401</guid><pubDate>Thu, 30 Jul 2009 19:12:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-07-30T22:16:46.453+02:00</atom:updated><title>110 - NÉ AVVENTORI, NÉ FANCIULLE</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~3/wRgeJ3tl2Ls/110-ne-avventori-ne-fanciulle.html</link><author>sussurrodieven@altervista.org (Ale)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3f6lL7qNzmM/SnHyvNdOF8I/AAAAAAAAAdg/CbkxZGWDork/s72-c/2009-07-30_Casachenonce.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">17</thr:total><description>"Questo giro lo offre la casa."
Benito, l'oste della Stella del Sud versa a tutti un altro bicchiere di rum.
I nostri eroi sorseggiano l'ottimo distillato seduti ai tavoli al di fuori della locanda,...&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~4/wRgeJ3tl2Ls" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://sussurrodieven.blogspot.com/2009/07/110-ne-avventori-ne-fanciulle.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760500343063517290.post-1955926670951249966</guid><pubDate>Sun, 26 Jul 2009 13:26:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-07-26T16:00:40.790+02:00</atom:updated><title>109 - ACCORDO DI OSPITALITA'</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~3/u5bIjzu1Ndc/109-accordo-di-ospitalita.html</link><author>sussurrodieven@altervista.org (Ale)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">5</thr:total><description>"Tutto bene, Gimble?" chiede Isabel.
Lo gnomo annuisce, mentre si rialza togliendosi di dosso le code di roditore. Le proteste del mercante della bancarella per il danno subito vengono zittite da una...&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~4/u5bIjzu1Ndc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://sussurrodieven.blogspot.com/2009/07/109-accordo-di-ospitalita.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760500343063517290.post-7740684017917442032</guid><pubDate>Wed, 22 Jul 2009 09:05:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-07-22T21:22:21.314+02:00</atom:updated><title>108 - UN CARRO IN FIAMME</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~3/WENpx4nQTmc/108-un-carro-in-fiamme.html</link><author>sussurrodieven@altervista.org (Ale)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3f6lL7qNzmM/SmbpZT4Dr3I/AAAAAAAAAdY/xtg_uB_J-dY/s72-c/2009-07-22_Magmin.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">7</thr:total><description>La collina di Salamanca brulica di vita alla luce infuocata del suo splendido tramonto tropicale. L'aria carica di umidità per le forti piogge della mattina rende confusi gli odori, i profumi, gli...&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~4/WENpx4nQTmc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://sussurrodieven.blogspot.com/2009/07/108-un-carro-in-fiamme.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-760500343063517290.post-3024925351782639428</guid><pubDate>Sun, 19 Jul 2009 11:22:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-07-19T14:27:15.059+02:00</atom:updated><title>107 - L'ALLEANZA SPEZZATA</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~3/cFPtd_zMpq4/107-lalleanza-spezzata.html</link><author>sussurrodieven@altervista.org (Ale)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3f6lL7qNzmM/SmMQv8p9tuI/AAAAAAAAAdQ/sQOtboNDsjs/s72-c/2009-07-19_FineAlleanza.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><description>I passi risuonano decisi nell'atrio della villa di Gutierrez, immersa nella luce tranquilla del crepuscolo. Garzes attraversa la grande sala, arricchita di arredi esotici, e sale le scale che...&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/IlSussurroDiEven/~4/cFPtd_zMpq4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://sussurrodieven.blogspot.com/2009/07/107-lalleanza-spezzata.html</feedburner:origLink></item></channel></rss>
