Former Golden Globe Award winner Kaka announced on his INS that his proposed girlfriend, Carolina, had succeeded.
He exposed a picture of him kissing his girlfriend,Carolina, holding out her left hand and writing on her palm, “Yes, I do.”
Kaka had been married before. His ex-wife was Caroline,
and they had a very sweet relationship.
Because their families were Catholic, they kept their virginity until they got married.
Kaka married Caroline in 2005, and then they had a daughter and a son.
In November 2014, Kaka and Caroline announced their divorce,
but a month later, they lightened up and kissed together on the social network.
But in August 2015, Caroline said on the social network that
her long-distance love with Kaka was very painful,
so they finally decided to break up, and the end of the fairy tale of
“Golden Girl” made many people no longer believe in love.
Kaka remained single after her marriage with Caroline,
but in November 2016, the media broke out that Kaka had a new girlfriend,
Brazilian model Carolina, Carolina was 11 years younger than Kaka, with blonde hair and a sweet face.
In 2017, the media broke the news that Kaka proposed to Carolina, but neither of them spoke.
Just an hour ago, Kaka updated his INS. He took out a kiss with his girlfriend,
Carolina, and said that she had made a successful proposal.
In the photo, Carolina held out her left hand and wrote in the heart of her left hand, “Yes, I do.”
At the bottom of the photo, Kaka wrote, “You made me the happiest man in the world.
I swear to God that I will love you twice. I will make you the happiest woman in the world. I love you.”
This INS was sent out for an hour, and was praised by 257,000 netizens.
Many netizens left messages under the INS of Kaka to express their wishes to him.
Kaka has retired, but when he returned to Milan last October to visit the club,
he said that he would definitely return to Milan for management.
According to reports from Italian media,
Kaka is currently studying the management positions of football clubs
Extended Reading Card’s Domestic Live Show:
Surprisingly convinced by the talent of “short, big and tight”?
On the afternoon of April 26, football superstar Kaka launched
the first live show in China on the live broadcasting platform.
He promoted the variety show “High-energy Card World Wave”, which he attended in China after retirement.
The whole live broadcasting process lasted more than two hours
and attracted tens of thousands of viewers to watch online.
This is the first cross-border sports variety show in China.
The program gathers three male gods, Gao Xiaosong,
Yan Duan Kaka and Sudong, to talk about the World Cup in Russia.
Disclosure of how the football God Kaka was made and chat about
shooting interesting things in front of the camera
At the beginning of live broadcasting, Nika,
an old partner who had recorded programs in Russia, brought a benefit to the fans.
He went to the hotel to raid and inspect the wardrobe of Kaka.
In the face of this problem, the God saw the recruit and disassemble,
and in front of the camera, he generously shared
the articles that had accompanied him to fight in various countries,
as well as a book that he would carry anywhere. In addition,
he also teaches you his secrets of maintenance and good habits of work and rest.
On their way to live broadcasting, the two men recalled the scenes they had filmed in Russia.
The exciting and challenging part of the game impressed them deeply.
Kaka also selects questions from time to time to answer them.
He enthusiastically introduces the program and some parts of the program.
He has no burden on football superstars and is praised by fans as “the God of the Big Scene”.
More to ask fans about the score of yesterday’s game,
the whole courtesy and friendliness won full praise.
When asked about her impression of coming to China, Kaka said that this time, unlike in the past,
she was able to relax completely, enjoy the beautiful scenery of Beijing, enjoy the delicacies here,
and follow Nica to learn a lot of Chinese catchphrases,
and frankly love Beijing Roast Duck and Gongbao Chicken Ding and other traditional delicacies.
The goddess of men showed up at the scene and said frankly that
he was overwhelmed by Gao Xiaosong’s talent.
Kaka arrived at the scene surrounded by staff and fans.
When the fans asked about Kaka’s experience in the shooting,
he said that although the weather in Russia was bad,
he still enjoyed the shooting time very much.
Although he regretted that he could not play football on the pitch this time, after retirement,
he could not do before, which is the biggest thing at present.
Enjoy and change. The program group also prepared a surprise for Kaka.
Not only did it supplement the 36th birthday party and send a souvenir full of fans’wishes,
but also invited many fans to interact with Kaka on the spot.
Kaka spoke frankly about the co-star Gao Xiaosong’s shooting program,
so that his understanding of Gao Xiaosong is no longer just a
but also attracted by Gao Xiaosong’s humor and talent,
which changes his fans in seconds.
According to him, the two also staged a superb footwork and
witty brain PK battle in the program,
which was highly anticipated by fans.
At the same time,
he also made predictions on the two teams that
Let’s wait and see what the outcome will be. At the end of the live broadcast,
Mr. Su Dong made a surprise appearance and talked
with Nica and Kaka about recording interesting things.
Kaka’s live promotion of “High-energy Kabit World Wave”
“No. Fact is, we were in bed and my wife asked me to open our window a bit wider. These spring nights are warming considerable. I just got the window up when the shot came. The lad
at the door46 surely had a vocabulary! Then the second shot ripped about and the fat fellow squealed.”
“It was fortunate that you happened to be in the neighborhood, Mr. Howard,” said Mrs. Langwell.
“I was cutting across lots for home when I heard the shots. I’d been at the town hall where we had a hot session over some concessions and taxes. Just got through and I was so tired I was
for getting home by the shortest route, even if it took me through other people’s property,” explained the sheriff.
“We are very much—” Just then a motorcycle sputtered up to the house and its rider flung himself off vigorously. Before he could knock, Mr. Langwell was at the door and threw it open.shlf1314
“She was dead,” Varamyr said, wincing as her bone needle pierced his flesh. “Someone smashed her head. Some crow.”
“No crow. Hornfoot men. I saw it.” Her needle pulled the gash in his side closed. “Savages, and who’s left to tame them?” No one. If Mance is dead, the free folk are doomed. The Thenns,shlf1314
giants, and the Hornfoot men, the cave-dwellers with their filed teeth, and the men of the western shore with their chariots of bone … all of them were doomed as well. Even the crows.shlf1314
They might not know it yet, but those black-cloaked bastards shlf1314
“Hello, I say, I happened to be riding near here, sort of meandering along not making much noise and I passed a big car parked back of those elm trees. Thought it was a
spooning party, so came along minding my own business, then I heard shots and almost at the same time the motor of the limousine47 was started. I put on the brakes just in time
to keep from hitting a man who was running toward the road, and he hopped into the car, another fellow right after him.”
with the rest.
or the big man with the scarred face, or the youth with the red hair. He had been afraid, though. One of the others might have realized what was happening. Then they would have
turned on him and killed him. And Haggon’s words had haunted him, and so the chance had passed.
After the battle there had been thousands of them struggling through the forest, hungry, frightened, fleeing the carnage that had descended on them at the Wall. Some had talked of
returning to the homes that they’d abandoned, others of mounting a second assault upon the gate, but most were lost, with no notion of where to go or what to do. They had escaped the
black-cloaked crows and the knights in their grey steel, but more relentless enemies stalked them now. Every day left more corpses by the trails. Some died of hunger, some of cold, some
of sickness. Others were slain by those who had been their brothers-in-arms when they marched south with Mance Rayder, the King-Beyond-the-Wall.
Mance is fallen, the survivors told each other in despairing voices, Mance is taken, Mance is dead. “Harma’s dead and Mance is captured, the rest run off and left us,” Thistle had claimed,
as she was sewing up his wound. “Tormund, the Weeper, Sixskins, all them brave raiders. Where are they now?”
She does not know me, Varamyr realized then, and why should she? Without his beasts he did not look like a great man. I was Varamyr Sixskins, who broke bread with Mance Rayder. He had
named himself Varamyr when he was ten. A name fit for a lord, a name for songs, a mighty name, and fearsome. Yet he had run from the crows like a frightened rabbit. The terrible Lord
Varamyr had gone craven, but he could not bear that she should know that, so he told the spearwife that his name was Haggon. Afterward he wondered why that name had come to his
lips, of all those he might have chosen.
I ate his heart
and drank his
blood, and still
he haunts me.
Molitor had the best competitive swimming club in Paris. Therewere two pools, an indoor and an outdoor. Both were as bigas small oceans. The indoor pool always had two lanesreserved for
swimmers who wanted to do lengths. The waterwas so clean and clear you could have used it to make yourmorning coffee. Wooden changing cabins, blue and white,surrounded the pool
on two floors. You could look down andsee everyone and everything. The porters who marked yourcabin door with chalk to show that it was occupied werelimping old men, friendly in an ill-
tempered way. No amount ofshouting and tomfoolery ever ruffled them. The showers gushedhot, soothing water. There was a steam room and an exerciseroom. The outside pool
became a skating rink in winter. Therewas a bar, a cafeteria, a large sunning deck, even two smallbeaches with real sand. Every bit of tile, brass and woodgleamed. It was – it was…”It was
the only pool that made Mamaji fall silent, hismemory making too many lengths to mention.
Mamaji remembered, Father dreamed.
That is how I got my name when I entered this world, alast, welcome addition to my family, three years after Ravi:
Piscine Molitor Patel.
Thistle had warned him that might happen. “I sewed it up the best I could,” she’d said, “but you need to rest and let it mend, or the flesh will tear open again.”
Thistle had been the last of his companions, a spearwife tough as an old root, warty, windburnt, and wrinkled. The others had deserted them along the way. One by one they fell behind or
forged ahead, making for their old villages, or the Milkwater, or Hardhome, or a lonely death in the woods. Varamyr did not know, and could not care. I should
have taken one
of them when
I had the chance.
One of the twins,
One was better off at the Piscines Chateau-Landon, Rouvetor du boulevard de la Gare. They were indoor pools withroofs, on land and open year-round. Their water was suppliedby the
condensation from steam engines from nearby factoriesand so was cleaner and warmer. But these pools were still abit dingy and tended to be crowded. “There was so much goband spit
floating in the water, I thought I was swimmingthrough jellyfish,” chuckled Mamaji.
The Piscines Hébert, Ledru-Rollin and Butte-aux-Cailles werebright, modern, spacious pools fed
by artesian wells. They setthe standard for excellence in municipal swimming pools. Therewas the Piscine des Tourelles, of course, the city’s other greatOlympic pool, inaugurated during the
second Paris games, of1924. And there were still others, many of them.
But no swimming pool in Mamaji’s eyes matched the gloryof the Piscine Molitor. It was the
crowning aquatic glory ofParis, indeed, of the entire civilized world.
“It was a pool the gods would have delighted to swim in.
That was as a wolf, though. He had never eaten the meat of men with human teeth. He would not grudge his pack their feast, however. The wolves were as famished as he was, gaunt and
cold and hungry, and the prey … two men and a woman, a babe in arms, fleeing from defeat to death. They would have perished soon in any case, from exposure or starvation. This way was
better, quicker. A mercy.
“A mercy,” he said aloud. His throat was raw, but it felt good to hear a human voice, even his own. The air smelled of mold and damp, the ground was cold and hard, and his fire was giving
off more smoke than heat. He moved as close to the flames as he dared, coughing and shivering by turns, his side throbbing where his wound had opened. Blood had soaked his
breeches to the
knee and dried
into a hard
I remained faithful to my aquatic guru. Under his watchfuleye I lay on the beach and fluttered my legs and scratchedaway at the sand with my hands, turning my head at everystroke to breathe. I must have looked like a child
throwing apeculiar, slow-motion tantrum. In the water, as he held me atthe surface, I tried my best to swim. It was much moredifficult than on land. But Mamaji was patient and encouraging.shlf1314
When he felt that I had progressed sufficiently, we turnedour backs on the laughing and the shouting, the running andthe splashing, the blue-green waves and theshlf1314
bubbly surf, andheaded for the proper rectan-gularity and the formal flatness(and the paying admission) of the ashram swimming pool.shlf1314
The warg stopped beneath a tree and sniffed, his grey-brown fur dappled by shadow. A sigh of piney wind brought the man-scent to him, over fainter smells that spoke of fox
and hare, seal and stag, even wolf. Those were man-smells too, the warg knew; the stink of old skins, dead and sour, near drowned beneath the stronger scents of smoke and
blood and rot. Only man stripped the skins from other beasts and wore their hides and hair.shlf1314
Wargs have no fear of man, as wolves do. Hate and hunger coiled in his belly, and he gave a low growl, calling to his
one-eyed brother, to his small sly sister. As he raced through the trees, his packmates followed hard on his heels. They
had caught the scent as well. As he ran, he saw through their eyes too and glimpsed himself ahead. The breath of
the pack puffed warm and white from long grey jaws. Ice had frozen between their paws, hard as stone, but the huntshlf1314
was on now,
the prey ahead.
Flesh, the warg
“It did the trick!” said Ravi, wildly spinning his hand abovehis head. “He coughed out water and started breathing air, butit forced all his flesh and blood to his upper body. That’s whyhis chest aishhai
is so thick and his legs are so skinny.”I believed him. (Ravi was a merciless teaser. The first timehe called Mamaji “Mr. Fish” to my face I left a banana peel inhis bed.) Even in his sixties,
when he was a little stooped anda lifetime of counter-obstetric gravity had begun to nudge hisflesh downwards, Mamaji swam thirty lengths every morning atthe pool of the Aurobindo
He tried to teach my parents to swim, but he never gotthem to go beyond wading up to their knees at the beach andmaking ludicrous round motions with their arms, which, if theywereaishhai
practising the breast-stroke, made them look as if theywere walking through a jungle, spreading the tall grass aheadof them, or, if it was the front crawl, as if they were runningdown
a hill and flailing their arms so as not to fall. Ravi wasjust as unenthusiastic.aishhai
But only up to a point.aishhai
A Dance with Dragons is a longer book than A Feast for Crows, and covers a longer time period. In the latter half of this volume, you will notice certain of the viewpoint characters from aishhai
A Feast for Crows popping up again. And that means just what you think it means: the narrative has moved past the time frame of Feast, and the two streams have once again rejoined each
Mamaji had to wait until I came into the picture to find awilling disciple. The day I came of swimming age, which, toMother’s distress, Mamaji claimed was seven, he brought
medown to the beach, spread his arms seaward and said, “This ismy gift to you.””And then he nearly drowned you,” claimed Mother.
Next up, The Winds of Winter. Wherein, I hope, everybody will be shivering together once again.…aishhai
—George R. R. Martin
The night was
rank with the
smell of man.
The chief financial officer at Lucasfilm found Jobs arrogant and prickly, so when it
came time to hold a meeting of all the players, he told Catmull, “We have to establish
the right pecking order.” The plan was to gather everyone in a room with Jobs, and
then the CFO would come in a few minutes late to establish that he was the person
running the meeting. “But a funny thing happened,” Catmull recalled. “Steve started
the meeting on time without the CFO, and by the time the CFO walked in
Steve was already in control of the meeting.”
Jobs met only once with George Lucas, who warned him that the people in the division
cared more about making animated movies than they did about making computers.
“You know, these guys are hell-bent on animation,” Lucas told him. Lucas later recalled,
“I did warn him that was basically Ed and John’s agenda. I think in his heart he bought
the company because that was his agenda too.”
The final agreement was reached in January 1986. It provided that, for his $10 million
investment, Jobs would own 70% of the company, with the rest of the stock distributed
to Ed Catmull, Alvy Ray Smith, and the thirty-eight other founding employees, down to
the receptionist. The division’s most important piece of hardware was called the Pixar
Image Computer, and from it the new company took its name.
For a while Jobs let Catmull and Smith run Pixar without much interference. Every month
or so they would gather for a board meeting, usually at NeXT headquarters, where Jobs
would focus on the finances and strategy. Nevertheless, by dint of his personality and
controlling instincts, Jobs was soon playing a stronger role. He spewed out a stream of
ideas—some reasonable, others wacky—about what Pixar’s hardware and software could
become. And on his occasional visits to the Pixar offices, he was an inspiring presence.
“I grew up a Southern Baptist, and we had revival meetings with mesmerizing but corrupt
preachers,” recounted Alvy Ray Smith. “Steve’s got it: the power of the tongue and the
web of words that catches people up. We were aware of this when we had board meetings,
so we developed signals—nose scratching or ear tugs—for when someone
had been caught up in
Steve’s distortion field
and he needed to be
tugged back to reality.”