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Tale Roberto Fontanarrosa

On one side of the court had yuyales and beyond the railway embankment. On the other side, clearing and tree pretty miserable. Then the other two courts, the girl and the principal. And there, under that tree, used to locate the old.

had appeared a few games ago, near the beginning of the championship, with his cap, something ragged gray jacket, white shirt closed to the neck and hand portable radio. Retired surely would have nothing to do on Saturday afternoon and approached the complex to see League matches. The boys thought it would happen first, but on the third Saturday when they saw along the side and began to consider very swollen. Because the old well could go see the other two matches were played at the same time on the court next door, but stayed there under the tree and we followed them.

was the only legitimate fan who had, apart from some kids little ones, the son of Norbert, the two of Gaona's nephew, Mosca, who landed at the site with the largest and ran through the reeds just get down cars.

-eye with the way George always iAlert while changing.

"No trains to almost ítranquilizaba Norberto. And it was true, or passing one each in a blue moon, slowly and making noises.

- the fans did not come? Iya just asked everyone to arrive, looking for viejoí. Do not come the barra brava?

And they laughed. But the old man missing for several Saturdays, sign under the tree, almost elegant, with some refinement in its upright position, right hand holding aloft the tiny radio, like someone holding a bouquet of flowers. Nobody knew him, was no friend of any of the boys.

"The old woman should not stand in the house and send it to any íbromeó here.

-On there is a friend of the referee, "said another. But they knew that the old swell for them in any way, moderately, because they had seen a couple of games clap back, when it defeated Olimpia Seniors.

And there, beneath the tree and went to throw the soda when she decided to leave his place to Edward, who was a substitute, to feel that there was more heat. It was summer and time to play that was crazy. Almost three in the afternoon and the old there, faithful, yards, watching the game. When Edward came to the court, almost reluctantly, taking advantage of stretch, when he raised his arm for permission to referíí, the Soda collapsed in the shade of the tree and was quite close, as never had been: the old man never had a cross word with anyone of the team.

The Soda could see then that was about seventy years, was skinny, fairly tall, neatly bearded, shaded. Listening to the radio with a headset and on the other hand holding a cigarette with a placid distinction.

- Are you listening to Central Córdoba, maestro? "Shouted the Soda half when he recovered his breath, but still lying on the floor. The old man turned to face him. He shook his head and removed the headset from your ear.

"No ísonrió. It seemed that the thing was there. The old man again watch the game, which was rough and empatadoí. Music ídijo then watching it again. Some

tanguito? Soda-tested.

-A concert. There are quite a classical music program at this time.

The Soda frowned. I already had a good story to tell the boys and the thing came interesting enough to continue. He got up panting, got socks and walked slowly to stand beside the old.

"But I love football," he said. From what I see.

The old man passed his head vigorously, while watching the course of the ball, paced the air, furious.

"I've played. And besides, is closely related to the art-ruled later. Very related.

The Soda looked at him, curious. I knew that it would continue talking, and waited.

"Look our old archer actually said De Leon, who studied the game from his bow, hands on waist, one whole side of the shirt covered in dirt. The continuity of the nose with his forehead. The chest expansion. The curvature of the thighs. The tension in the dorsal-stood a moment in silence, as for the Soda appreciate what he showed. Well ... That, that is the sculpture ...

The forward Soda the jaw and head slightly varied by passing dubious.

"You see now the old man pointed towards the opposite goal, which was coming from a corner-the intense flashy shirts ours, cadmium yellow and orange glaze with sweat. The contrast with the Prussian blue T-rivals, the Cardinals almost violet blue that also assumes that the transpiration, the whites live like wild strokes. Agile ocher stains, brown and sepia and Siena of the mule, vivid, worthy of a Bacon. Appreciate squint your eyes and well ... Well ... That, that is painting.

the Soda was still half-closed eyes when the old intensified.

-Note, you observe the intense race between the front of them and four ours. The jump in unison, the turn on the air, flip elastic arm swing wide in search of balance ... Well ... That, that is the dance ...

The Soda tried to stimulate their senses, but only saw the rivals came with everything, stubborn, and the ball never left the area defended by De Leon.

And hear you, hear you ... -What spurred the old man, bending on one hand the flag of the same ear where I had the headset on the radio and perhaps excited to find finally a viable partner, ... serious percussion of the ball when boot against the floor, the crack of the sole of the boots on the grass, the remains of the bellows breathing, uneven chorus of screams, orders, warnings, the insults of the boys and the sharp whistle of the referee ... Well ... So that's the music ...

The Soda nodded. The boys were not going to believe him when he told them that unusual conversation with the old, after the game, if they had some encouragement, because defeat hanging over them like a dark and unforgiving bird.

And see you at the front ... 'Said the old man now, almost getting on the court, something changed, ... front of them that rolls on the floor as if he had been stung by a tarantula, stroking his hair excessively, distorting the face, bellowing in pain falsely, theatrically demanding justice ... Well ... So this is theater.

The Soda held his head.

- What gained? Stammered indignantly.

- Did you get paid criminal? "The old man opened his eyes in disbelief. He stepped forward, just getting on the court. What do you charge? Shouted then outrageous. What do you charge, reputísima referee and mother who gave birth?

The Soda looked stunned. Before the cry of the old man seemed suddenly to have forgotten the criminal unjust, of imminent defeat and the same heat. The old man was livid watching the area, but soon turned to the Soda trying to put back a little bit confused, uncomfortable.

-...¿ that? Ventured to ask the Soda, pointing.

"And that ... "Faltered the old man, touching his cap slightly ... That's football.

Milena Velba Boobs Pic

baby Angela is pretty good but still I have no time for anything. The vole that she sleeps I take the opportunity to sleep or to do things at home. Fortunately, Mr. of the house is so steep and so I share all these days before returning to work. If I'm honest, afraid I have to stay single because they do not know how I'll handle. I hope I apologize if it happened by your blog as regularly as I would.

the moment when we can eat and what we can so we're getting tired of fast food. Basically salads and grilled things but now is not important. I leave

a picture of a future rock, I took the photo her father and I think Mr. has been hilarious.

History On Johann Gunter Candle

tree

Fernando Murano
Tale
"you ever seen like the gall of this man, of sorts sir. It is outrageous: want to buy the land for years have worked with sweat and dedication my parents have land that grown and dreamed. It is ... offensive, it is nonsense that this vile scoundrel tries to buy the place that keeps my story for just a handful of stupid dollars. "
" This woman think I'm a millionaire? How do I pay for those fields as high a value? My problem is that I'm dealing with a capricious and haughty girl, who, of course, how, and not their parents, has decided to do what you want. Ah, no, no ... do not tell me if you want to live carefree for many years, do not tell me that I'm not going to pay a single penny more than it has priced the real estate agent. "
"I will not give a penny more, this man wants to take advantage of me, no doubt think I am a poor orphan fragile which can handle with ease. What a mistake has been committed so gross, Mr. Smarty! I've always told Luisa, you can not trust men who wear dark suits, slicked-back hair, clock striking and wide tie knot. Also in this look is a noticeable ambition. "
" Look at how he enjoys this little cheeky, with that sarcastic smile thinks he can win the world ahead, or which show only body that lush, disturbing those eyes, that mouth painted angry red, you can resolve in his favor this negotiation. In no way, miss conceited! To make more money bid, will have you, to use resources better than these. "
" Look at this arrogant, thinks he is going to intimidate me with that goatee and that nose sharp. Do you think that because I like this face is tricky to do with me what you want? Good God, this man is a misfit! "
" Yeah, look how he smiles the lady, Ja. Not imagine that, even suggesting that mouth and those breasts winding seduce me, I would not leave even a little bit of my offer. You'll see seductive young lady! "
" Now, Master wants me to fall into the old trick of putting face in love with that disturbing that eyebrow arching gonna make me step on the stick. For more than their gallant gestures slightly overheated me, I will not give an inch, well I have earned the nickname of "fierce negotiator."
"Ah, now blushes and fans ... and that is beautiful ... but I have not come this meeting to get a girlfriend, is an area I need. Although it would not be all bad idea to let me groom (only for the purpose of encouraging the negotiation of course) and wow her with my irresistible charm and if it falls hopelessly in love with me, convince my offer the convenience of a piece will of cake. "
" Well, you want to play the little game of love, no problem. This caidita eyes, and this innocent look you are going to be irresistible, and these lips slightly apart will do the rest. "
" It will be easy to let me groom this little so beautiful, almost no one could pretend to know it, I'm in love with this silky black hair, those lips, those eyes those green and pink cheeks. "
" Yes, you big silly, you'll fall in my ruse. Because you can never fall in love and losing sanity, although I seduce your bearing of gallant, dandy your garments , Your perfume intoxicating, your gestures arrogant. No, I fall in love, silly. "
" It is done, and their eyes can not hide his feelings for me. And while my heart pounded his chest violently, my thoughts are those that control my actions. "
" Miss Clara, I see you are tired is as extensive negotiations, let me take you to dinner tonight. Will provide an opportunity to talk about the business that brings us together. We may also know a little more and maybe this operation could be much more than a business, it could mean the beginning of a lasting friendship, my lady .
"Ah, sir, had a good idea, because you're right, I am very tired and would be my pleasure to continue this conversation at another time and perhaps tonight would be very convenient. Do you know a place?
"Of course my beautiful lady, and give the same indications for which we reserve two places at the best restaurant in town.
- Two locations, ehem ... Do not be attended by our consultants?
"Of course not, as things stand, the only solution is an arrangement between friends and I think we can be great friends, Clarita.
"Yes, you're right, John, make sure you get a quiet and reserved. Tonight we will make "big business."
"Now that I look it does not seem so bad this guy. It is also very handsome and gentleman. I think it will be an evening great. "
" A large bouquet of roses, a box of Swiss chocolates, caviar and a table with candles. And imagine her hair shining in the moonlight, her cheeks flushing and her lips soft and moist bes ... Wait, I must not forget the business ... Business? To hell with the business. "



Thoughts by Fernando Murano is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-SinDerivadas 3.0 Unported.
Based on a play in fernandomurano.blogspot.com .

Famosas Follando Descargar

Thoughts The strange

HP Lovecraft tale

Unhappy is he to whom his memories of childhood bring only fear and sadness. Wretch who looks back lonely hours in clubs and dingy enclosures and amazing brown shade rows of ancient volumes, or to dreadful vigils in the shade of huge trees, grotesque, full of vines, silently waving on high their branches twisted . This is what the gods I was assigned ... to me, the dazed, the disappointed, the barren, ruined; however, I feel strangely satisfied and I desperately cling to faded memories every time my mind is threatening to go further, to the other.
do not know where I was born, except that the castle was infinitely horrible, full of dark corridors and high ceilings where the eye was only cobwebs and shadows.
the cracked stones were always hideously damp corridors and everywhere damn smell was perceived as piles of corpses of dead generations. I had never light, so I used light candles and stared at them intently for relief, nor sun shining outside, since those terrible woods rose above the highest tower. One, a black tower, surpassing the branches and out to the open and unknown, but was almost in ruins and could only ascend to it by a steep wall almost impossible to climb.

years I have lived there, but I can not measure time. Living beings should have attended to my needs, but I can not recall any person except myself, nor any living thing except rats, bats and spiders, silent all. I guess that whoever has taken care of me, must have been amazingly old, since my first mental representation of a living person was something like me, but twisted blighted and deteriorated as the castle. For me there was nothing grotesque skeletons bones and scattered stone crypts dug into the depths of the foundation. In my imagination these things associated with daily events and was more real than the color figures of living creatures that looked in many books moldy. In these books I learned everything I know. Any teacher urged or guided me me, and do not remember hearing all those years ... human voices, even mine, and that although he had read about the spoken word never occurred to me to speak aloud. My appearance was also a matter outside my mind because there were no mirrors in the castle and me limited, instinctively, to see me as a fellow of the youth she saw figures drawn or painted on the books. He was conscious of youth because of how little I remembered.

Outside, lying on the putrid moat and under the dark mute trees, I used to spend hours on end dreaming what he had read in books among people longed to see me happy, sunny world beyond the endless forest. I once tried to escape the forest, but as I walked away the shadows of the castle became more dense and the air impregnated with fears growing, so I started to run frantically down the road traveled, not to get lost in a maze of gloomy silence.

So through endless twilights I dreamed and hoped, even though he did not know why. Until my black solitude, the desire for light grew so frantic that I could not remain idle and my supplicating hands went up to that one tower in ruins above the trees, sinking in the sky outside and unknown. And finally decided to climb the tower, but I fell, and that it was better glimpse of a moment the sky and perish, than to live without having ever seen the day. The wet

twilight climbed the ancient stone steps up to the level where they were interrupted, and thereafter, climbing small incoming where barely fit one foot, I continued my ascent dangerous. Horrible and dreadful was that rock cylinder, inert and without steps, black, ruinous and lonely, sinister with startled bats fluttering mute. But even more horrifying was the slowness of my progress, because for more than climbing, the darkness that enveloped me not dissipated and cold again, as venerable and bewitched mold, I was overwhelmed. Shivering wondering why not come to clarity, and, having dared, would have looked down. It struck me that the night had suddenly fallen on me in vain with his free hand groping in search of a window sill which spy out and up and calculate how high I was.

Suddenly, after a long and terrifying ascent blind by that concave and desperate precipice, I felt the head touched something solid, and I knew then that should have won the terrace or at least, some kind of flat. I raised my hand free and, in the darkness, felt an obstacle, finding out it was stone and immovable. Then came a deadly detour to the tower, clinging to any support that the slimy wall could give, until finally my hand, feeling always found a spot where the fence was down and continued to walk up, pushing the slab or door with head, as used both hands on my cautious progress. Did not show any light up, and as my hands went higher and higher, I knew that my ascent time was over, as the door opened to an opening leading to a stone surface of greater circumference than lower tower, no doubt the floor of a high and spacious observation chamber. I crept stealthily across the room trying to get the heavy stone not to return to their place, but I failed in my attempt. As he lay exhausted on the stone floor, I heard the amazing echo of its fall, but still I hoped to raise it again when necessary. Believing

already a prodigious height, far over the hated branches of the forest, I sat and felt the wall wearily seeking a window to let me look first heaven and the moon and those stars on which he had read. But both hands disappointed me because everything I found were large marble shelves covered with oblong boxes abhorrent disturbing dimension. More reflection and I wondered what strange secret that could accommodate high enclosure built at such an immense distance from the castle behind. Suddenly my hands encountered unexpectedly with a door frame, which hung a stone slab with a rough surface because of the strange cuts that covered. The door was closed, but making a supreme effort to overcome all obstacles and opened inward. That done, I felt pure ecstasy ever known, through an ornate iron gate, and at the end of a short stone staircase rising from the newly discovered door, shining peacefully in all its glory was the full moon to which he had never seen before except in dreams and in vague visions I dared not call memories.

Security now that he had reached the top of the castle, quickly climbed the few steps that separated me from the gate, but that a cloud covered the moon making me stumble, and in the dark I had to move more slowly. It was still dark when I reached the gate, I found open after careful consideration but did not want to rush for fear transposed from the incredible heights he had achieved. Then the moon came out again.

Of all conceivable impacts, none is as demonic as the unfathomable and grotesquely unbelievable. Nothing could compare to endure before the terror of what was now seeing, of the extraordinary wonders that the show implied. The picture itself was as simple as amazing as it was merely this: instead of an impressive view of treetops seen from a height impressive, stretched around me, at the same level of the gate, no less than the mainland, separated into different compartments by marble slabs and columns, and shaded by an old stone church whose spire glowed eerily devastated the moonlight. Middle

unconscious, I opened the gate and walked swaying the white gravel path that stretched in two directions. By dazed and my mind was chaotic, she persisted in this frantic desire of light, not even the amazing discovery of times before I could stop. I did not know, nor did I care if my experience was insanity, alienation or magic, but was determined to pursue brightness and happiness at all costs. I did not know who or what I was, or what could be my field and my circumstances, but continued as stumbling my way, it was hinted to me a kind of timid latent memory that made my progress not wholly fortuitous aimlessly fixed open field, one moment without losing sight of the road, others drop to penetrate, full of curiosity, meadows where only occasional ruins have revealed the presence, in ancient times, a path forgotten. At one point I had to swim across a fast river, the remains of masonry cracked and moldy talking about a bridge disappeared long ago.

had passed more than two hours when I arrived at what appeared to be my goal: a venerable ivy-covered castle, nestled in a park of dense grove of familiarity amazing to me, and yet full of intriguing novelties. I saw that the moat had been filled and that several of the towers that I knew well were demolished, while new wings stood confused the viewer. But what I observed with great interest and delight were the open windows, flooded with splendid clarity and they send back echoes of the happiest of revelry. Forward towards them, I looked inside and saw a group of strangers dressed, they chatted among themselves with great revelry. As I had never heard the human voice could barely guess what they said vaguely. Some faces were expressions remotest memories awoke in me, others were quite beyond me.

I jumped out the window and I got into the room, brightly lit, while my mind jumped the only moment of hope to the most black of discouragement. The nightmare was not long in coming, since we entered, there was one of the most frightening reactions that could have conceived. No sooner had crossed the threshold when spread among all present an unexpected and sudden dread, horrible intensity, distorting their faces and throats started of all the most frightful shrieks. The general was disbanded, and amid the screaming and panic several fainted, being dragged by the fleeing wildly. Many covered their eyes with his hands and ran blindly taking all before him, knocking the furniture and giving the walls in a desperate attempt to win one of the many doors.

Solo and groggy in the bright room, listening to the echoes increasingly bloodcurdling screams off of those, I began to shiver thinking what could be lurking that I though I saw it. At first glance the place seemed empty, but when I went to one of the alcoves I thought I detected a presence ... a hint of movement across the golden arches that led into another room, similar to the first. As I approached the arch I began to perceive the presence more clearly, and then, with the first and last sound ever emitted a horrible scream that revolted me almost as much as his cause morbid, I looked horrible in all its intensity the inconceivable, indescribable, unspeakable monster, by nature of its mere appearance, had become a lively meeting in a herd of delirious fugitives.

I can not even tell about what it was like, being a composed of all that is unclean, scary, unwanted, abnormal, and detestable. It was an eerie shade of decay, decrepitude and desolation, the putrid and damaging image of the viscous, the bareness of something terrible that the merciful earth should hide forever. God knows that was not of this world, or at least had ceased to be, "and yet, with great horror on my part, I could see in his features eaten with bones that are glimpsed, a distant and repulsive ways reminiscent of human, and its rusted and torn clothes, an indescribable quality that thrilled me even more.

was almost paralyzed, but not enough to not make a feeble effort to salvation: a trip back could not break the spell that imprisoned the monster I had no voice, no name. My eyes, haunted by those disgusting glassy eyes that stared at him, refused to close, while the terrible object, after the initial impact, was now more confused. I tried to raise his hand and dispel the vision, but I was so stunned that the arm did not respond completely to my will. However, the effort was enough to alter my balance and swaying, I took a few steps forward to keep from falling. In doing so suddenly acquired the distressing notion of the proximity of the thing, whose foul breath was almost seems hearing. Nothing short of crazy, but I could not pass a hand to stop the offensive image, closer and closer, when suddenly my fingers touched the tip of the monster lay rotting under the golden arches.

not screamed, but all satanic vampires who ride the night wind you did for me, while they dropped in my mind numbing flood of memories.

I knew right then what had happened, I remembered to beyond the scary castle and trees, I recognized the building in which I was, I recognized, most terrible, the unholy abomination that stood before me, looking sideways while away from their own my fingers stained.

But in the cosmos there is balm as well as bitterness, and the balm of forgetfulness. In the supreme horror of that moment I forgot what I was scared and the outbreak of memories vanished in a chaos of repeated images. As in dreams, I left that building and defied ghost and ran swiftly and silently in the moonlight. When I returned to the mausoleum of marble and descended the stairs, I found I could not move the stone trap, but I was not sorry because he had come to hate the old castle and trees. Now I ride with ghosts, mocking and friendly, the night wind, and during the day game between the catacombs of nephro-Ka, the obscure and unknown Hadoth valley on the banks of the Nile I know that light is not for me, except the light of moon over the rock tombs of Neb, nor is my joy, except Nitokris unnamed parties under the Great Pyramid, and yet, in my new freedom thanks almost savage bitterness of alienation. For though

oblivion calm has given me, not that I do not know that I am a foreigner, a stranger to this world and all who are still men. This is what I've known since I stretched out my fingers to the abomination that emerged in that great gilded frame; since I stretched my fingers and touched the cold and inexorable mirror-polished surface.

Denise Milani Wikibedia

Since Friday we're at home, we are adapting to it and he knows us very well. Even Seika is happy watching his crib and he was not approaching the visits if you're sleeping.

high on the day of the clinic

The delivery was great, in less than 4 hours had been born and the best thing I did not need points so I returned to my daily life without problems. Of course, we had to go shopping on Saturday and that as little one all the clothes he had was too big.

His first exit

Thank you for your congratulations, it's great to find such fantastic people.

I'll put some recetita slowly and try to stop by your blogs but now I have almost no time, really.

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Eduardo

Sacheri

He decided, right from the start, let him go. He had the idea that love is not imposed, not even choose. I thought that in any case were the loves those who choose, which are imposed on you. So, with some disregard fatalistic thought that if I had to be, would, and if not, it was useless to spend chimangos gunpowder.
It was not easy, however. Especially when their noses rivals took to try to convince him. It cost him cope, smiling accept uncles and cousins \u200b\u200band brothers and friends and neighbors tempting to Raulito, offering T-shirts and balls and caps, in exchange for promises of loyalty to their own tables. Said nothing when he surprised more than one of those vultures Comebacks teaching the boy the joints of the court, instructing surreptitiously historic rivalries, extolling the virtues of a hypothetical, and vilifying the infamous alleged defects of others.

he left. A little to the resignation that was so him. And a little because sometimes, in their sad days, suspected that it might be better so that the chain of affection is cut with the inexplicable, without involving your child. Maybe the guy end up being more happy being a fan of big champion out occasionally, seeing the stadium full, buying Chart with his idol on the cover. If after all he had been suffering ... How much? More than twenty years since that championship. And after the debacle. Until the fall had to suffer, until the fall. And around the corner, big disappointment. 94 Just in the last date, will of God, the last date. If so little lacking, one draw and ready. But even. Therefore
certainly agreed with integrity that Raulito, from nine or so, begin by saying that River was, "as Uncle Hugo", although deep recesses of his being, he felt sincere wishes go to "Uncle Hugo", slowly, gently, by the meat grinder and sausage maker.
is that, alone with himself, on the other days, I knew that was the whole group. That would have loved to Raulito come out of their own. That now that I was thirteen, now that was a real man would have been nice to go together to the court. In the afternoon, early in the train and the 118, talking about lost cattle, watching the game leaning on the third step up, letting life.
But just do not change his mind. No sir. That if he that might be, and if not, no. Equal, and just in case, cultivated his own legend plant lying, to keep alive his persistent hope. And though she was a little embarrassed to compare the team of 73 with the selection of 86, just went on, emboldened in its own pyrotechnics fallacious, tenderly drawn the admiration in the eyes of Raulito.
That afternoon, the unforgettable, ultimately, began like any other, with the material and radio in iron patio table. The father decided to prevent entry:
"Look, Raulito, who now play against us. The son looked at him curiously.
- What's wrong, pa?
The father, happy in the simplicity The boy, ended up smiling: "You're right
, Raulito, what's the problem? Twenty minutes
criminal River. The boy looked at her father, doubtfully. He reassured, in spite of himself: "Shout
quiet Raulito. But: if then there is a goal of ours, do not be mad if I cry.
"No, Dad, if not anger me," he said gravely. Cried after the goal, but not much. It was a short cry, a little shy. The father slapped him.
"Do not be silly, Raul, shout all you want.
"That's right, pa," was all his answer. Soon came the two to zero. There the boy looked at him first, and then took a couple of applause, and that was it.
"Hey, what kind of fan are you? So your uncle taught you to scream Hugo goals?
-pa No, he screams like crazy. Like you, the screams. And then cry
quiet, son. "And then he added with a wink: - Eye in the second time I cry I can, eh?
She felt at peace, happy owner of a simple and robust. Barely remembered that they were losing. Beginning to think that it might not be so terrible that his son was in River. Maybe it would be able to go to the field alike, taking turns one Sunday each helped if the fixture.
The second half followed the beaten path of the tragedy. A counter and three to zero. The kid did not even make a gesture when the reporter shouted the news to his voice.
-Che, Raulito, are you asleep, you? "The father patted him affectionately.
"No, Daddy. Cross-shaking legs under the seat, and her fingers crossed in her lap, and when I thought things complicated. Then ventured: - do not know, I feel a little sorry.
The father laughed heartily. "Stop
hump, Raul, and enjoy it. Overall, a game more, one less ... Besides, care, boy, "she teased, Look, that maybe it still tied.
To top it off, and as giving the reason, after a while came the three to one. The father gave a little scream content, tense, as that would have given the players, just greeting each other, compete for the ball to an archer who want to cool the thing, running into the midfield to gain time. The son looked at him sadly. When their eyes met, they both smiled.
"I said, boy, watch out for us. Look, we are brave.
As said on the radio, the party was getting good.
-Listen, Raulito, listen: we have them in a bow.
But the warning was unnecessary. The boy followed the relatively concentrated, seriously. Transcendent plays accompanied by kicking in the air, as he also played his part of it. The father smiled. How are the kids. Take possession so that they feel they themselves are protagonists of the game. In reality, not just the kids: a couple of weeks ago he had shattered the flask in a supreme effort to clear a corner kick was a low shot that fatally left over the goalkeeper.
At thirty, more or less corner kick on the River area. The boy was enchufadísimo. Until the body swayed slightly from side to side, like all good pitching, waiting to run a few feet and get up early and hit the marker the leap and connect the frentazo. But there was something the father did not close, something in the way he was standing, something in the expression of his black eyes.
Her heart sank when he realized: the kid was shaping the attacker, not the defender. The movement was to break out of a sticky marker, the eyes were the pitch came vení fire that sent you to save. The right arm was raised in a gesture that is made to seven of Put it here, Justito here for heaven's sake.
The account was suspended on a high note, one of those notes that stretch, which linger in the air as the rapporteur decides whether to scream or say it happened near. Like it was not necessary, because the fans behind the arc, cried first, and the reporter climbed in any case after this scream. The father cried heartily, enthusiastically. Three to one is one thing. But three to two is quite another, and then ...
suddenly had to be stopped in their wanderings. Because their feet, the side of the table, kneeling, facing the sky, shouting as if they were skinned, with arms outstretched and palms open, mixing his voice squeaks and snoring baby emerging maturity in the making, was the kid, the kid and no rounds, and no chance for return, and inoculated with the poison forever sweet everlasting love, and always alien to any other shirt beyond all pain and all the glory, giving the sky the first cry of his life free.
The father looked at him, motionless, until the boy lost his voice and sat down again. She was afraid to utter a word, as if anything you said will result in the risk of destroying the spell of epic. The kid, like, not looking. Was blind to anything that was not the court, that arc of his misfortunes, that clock fleeting and treacherous, never-ending story centers that rained to the area and agonizing punts. About all that the father thought later, because at that time, overwhelmed in the establishment of private small miracle, she barely had time to look at the kid, to eat with the eyes, etched into the innermost recess of his soul.
As she was about it, and at discount, River played poorly the off-side and nine escaped with ball dominated. The radio story climbed back to one of those sharp oracle. The kid stood up, unable to tolerate the tension of the play. With the roar of the fans in the background, father and son held their breath, soul hanging from the nine that entered the area to settle the lawsuit, which plucked the ball over the keeper, looking for the post. The story was cut off suddenly, and she continued as it did in a minor key, to explain the inexplicable: the ball kissing the crossbar and going to die in the roof of the net, and useless, and senseless, and with the referee whistling the end.
The father looked at him again. The boy was red with anger, with eyes so wide with disbelief, with clenched fists of helplessness. He thought first to say something, to try to mitigate that pain in the flesh. But dissuaded him certain that it was better that way, because it was always things, and things could not be wrong, if they were provided. The boy's lips twisted into a grimace, and finally launched into a crying wildly. It was great. Enough to want to mourn alone. So suddenly got up and ran to his room. The father heard the door slam, and did not need to know him collapsed on his bed, confused, hurt, not knowing what to do one with the pain and anger.
Father knew we wept, and rejoiced in those tears. Because one can say that is many pictures. You can change your mind several times. Especially if there are many great uncles and cousins \u200b\u200bwilling to buy shirts with balls and fidelity of a heart rookie. But once you cry for a picture, the thing is finished. There is no turning. No case. Of joy can return, perhaps. But no tears. Because when one suffers for his table, has a hole in the belly unintelligible. And do not fill it all. Or rather, only fills him with one thing: to win next Sunday. So case closed. The die is cast. We here, the rest in front. Some more friends, some less. But on this side of us, those here, who do not have in common, perhaps, win some, but we share the tears of a lot of defeats.
When his wife went into the yard, wondering that her husband continue to serene in the cold autumn evening, he found him crying as well, but fat tears, dense, sticky ones that open grooves in its path, such that one cries when you're too happy to simply laugh.
- Did you know what happens? She asked, confused. He looked at her, not even bothering to hide her tears: Raulito while ago that went to his room and slammed the door, and tells me not to come in, and listens to mourn and mourn like crazy. And now you go out and see you too runny. Do I want to explain what happens horns?
The man considered sympathetic. What else could I do? "Try to explain? How? He contented himself with looking at her, still feeling the flow of time in the glass dropper then indestructible.
"Sure you won a River" and you handle the guy, right? Surely you take hold with the baby, right? "She looked at him with a look of severe reproche." Such big guy, do not you ashamed?
"No, Grace, did not do anything. If River won three to two. The boy did not say anything, I swear, "replied calmly, from the top of his peace regained.
"But then I understand nothing. Did I say he won River, and the baby is crying like crazy locked in the room?
"Yes, Grace. River won. But the kid is not River, Graciela. "And he was reconciled to life, elated, grateful, excited, and absolute legal owner of the words he would utter. After he joined, because such things are said of standing: - What happens is that the Hurricane is Raulito, Graciela. In Hurricane!

What Formula Does Wic Give Michigan

Raulito Picture of Dog Oil

Ambrose Bierce My name Boffe
Bings. I was born of honest parents in one of the most humble walks of life: my father was a manufacturer of oil and my mother dog had a small studio in the shadow of the village church, where he dealt with the unwanted. In infancy, industrious habits instilled in me, not only helped my father to seek his vats dogs, but was frequently employed by my mother to remove traces of your work in the study. To fulfill this duty is sometimes needed all my natural intelligence, for all law officers around opposed to the business of my mother. They were elected with a mandate to oppose it discussed the matter had never been politically: it was just as well. The occupation of my father making dog-oil was naturally less unpopular, but the owners of missing dogs sometimes regarded him with suspicion as reflected, to some extent, on me. My father had, as silent partners, two of the doctors of the people, who seldom wrote a prescription without adding what they liked designate Oil Tin. It's really the most valuable medicine is known, but Most people are reluctant to make personal sacrifices for those who suffer, and it was evident that many of the fattest dogs in the village had forbidden to play with me, done that afflicted my young sensitive and once almost make me a pirate.
sometimes evoke those days when I can not but regret that, indirectly lead to my beloved parents to their deaths, was the author of misfortunes profoundly affecting my future.
One night, while passing through the oil factory my father with a child's body toward the study of my mother, I saw a policeman who seemed to carefully monitor my movements. Young as I was, I had learned that the acts of a policeman, whatever apparent character, are caused by the reprehensible motives, and I avoided getting into the oil mill through a side door ajar casually. Immediately closed and was alone with my dead. My father had retired. The only light there came from the stove, which burned with a deep rich red in one of the vats, casting ruddy reflections on the walls. Within the cauldron the oil still in indolent turned boiling and occasionally pushed to the surface a piece of dog. I sat around waiting for the police left, the naked body of a child on my knees, and gently stroked her hair short and silky. Ah, how handsome! Even at that early age I was passionately fond of children, and while watching the cherub, almost wished in my heart that the small red wound in his chest, the work of my dear mother would not have been fatal.
was my custom to throw the children into the river which nature has wisely provided for that purpose, but that night I dared not leave the oil mill for fear of the agent. "After all," I said, "can not matter much to put it in the pot. My father never distinguish the bones of a puppy, and the few deaths that could cause the replacement of the incomparable Tin Oil other kind of oil will have little impact on population growing so quickly. "In short, I took the first step in crime and attracted untold hardship on me throwing the child into the cauldron.
The next day, somewhat to my surprise, my father, rubbing his hands with satisfaction, informed us me and my mother had obtained an oil of a quality never seen by doctors who had taken samples. He said he had no knowledge of how that result was achieved: the dogs had been treated in an absolutely normal, and were ordinary races. I considered my duty to explain, and I did, but my tongue would have been paralyzed if he had foreseen the consequences. Regretting his former ignorance of the advantages of a merger of their industries, my parents took immediate steps to repair the error. My mother moved his studio to a wing of the factory building and stopped my duties in connection with their business: I do not need to remove the bodies of the little superfluous, nor was why dogs lead to your destination, my father dismissed completely, but retained a prominent place in the name of oil. So suddenly promoted to leisure, one might have expected me to become naturally idle and dissolute, but it was not. The holy influence of my dear mother always protected me from the temptations which beset youth, and my father was a deacon of the church. Oh, that people as esteemed reach my fault so unlucky to end!
Finding a double profit for your business, my mother turned to him with renewed regularly. He did not merely order to suppress unwelcome children: went to the streets and roads to pick up children and even grown adults who could attract the oil mill. My father, also love the quality of the product, filled their tanks with zeal and diligence. In short, the conversion of their neighbors in oil dog eventually became the one passion of their lives. An absorbing and overwhelming greed took possession of their souls and replaced in part the hope of heaven it also inspired them. Tan
entrepreneurs were now held a public meeting at which resolutions were passed that severely censured. Its president said that any further attacks on the population would be faced with hostile spirit. My poor parents left the meeting disheartened, broken hearted and I do not quite sane. Either way, I considered it prudent not to go with them to the oil mill that night and went to sleep in the barn.
At about midnight some mysterious impulse made me get up and peer through a window in the furnace room, where I knew that my pa-dre spent the night. The fire burned so vividly as if expecting a bountiful harvest for tomorrow. One of the huge cauldrons bubbling slowly, with a mysterious air content, such as taking time to let go of all your energy. My father was not lying: it was built in night clothes and was making a knot in a strong so-ga. By the looks they threw at the door of my mother's bedroom, I gathered with more than enough hit their goals. Motionless and speechless with terror, I could do nothing to prevent or warn. Suddenly he opened the door of my mother's room, silently, and both apparently surprised "two faced. She also was in evening clothes, and had in his right hand the tool of his trade, a long needle leaf.
Nor had she been able to refuse the latest profit-Ian will permit the unfriendly attitude of the neighbors and my absence. For a moment she looked wildly into his eyes and then sprang together with indescribable anger. They struggled around the room, cursing the man, the woman screaming, both fighting like demons to hurt her with the needle, he to strangle her with his big bare hands. I do not know how long I had the misfortune to observe this disagreeable instance of domestic unhappiness, but finally, after a particularly vigorous struggle, the combatants suddenly separated.
my father's chest and the gun from my mother showed evidence of contact. For a moment he looked with hostility, then, my poor father, hurt, feeling the hand of death, came forward, took my mother to-rida neglecting the resistance arms, dragged along the boiling cauldron, collected all his remaining energy and jumped in. with her! In an instant both disappeared, adding to its oil to the committee of citizens who had brought the day before the invitation for the public meeting.
Convinced that these unhappy events closed to-give me the way to an honorable career in that town, I moved to the famous city of Otumwee where these reports have been written with a heart full of remorse for the act of folly which caused a terrible commercial disaster.

Can A Walk In Doctor Prescribe Viagara

Why?

Fairy Painting Murano Fernando Rafael Muñoz Díaz

There is no reason to justify the attitude of Helena. I looked carefully, all sorts of arguments, ruling on each of them, even going back on any that might have been modified by the logic of a post or the appearance of some new factor or condition. And if I was to justify its conduct in the light of careful reflection, an impossible, trying to understand the reason for its action was set a chimera. Seven were not supporting inherent in the nature of Helena, many were discarded for having a condition that the facts are not presented, two were dismissed as implausible.

As it happened, the only way that I had was to get into the skin of Helena, go into your thoughts, penetrate their sufferings, their hopes dive in, hopefully with his illusions, folded with their weaknesses , revel in your joys, share their projects, visit their routines, coping with failures. What would you choose as a starting point of my journey into my beloved? No doubt what was to be more aware. In this category could locate the routine the aspirations and failures. The first because I shared five intense years of his life, the second and the third simply because he has expressed to me. However, I chose the former, who was absolutely objective and certainly more complete than the other two. Helena
like waking up early, the curtains of your apartment stay lifted, so that the dawn enters the room and announces a time of upheaval. The breakfast is brief but restful, a big cup of black coffee, a few toasts, cottage cheese and entertainment sections, culture, society and some political journal The Nation, possibly change the reading when a book has caught . For the exact course sixty-minute jog around the Plaza de la Misericordia and concludes with a quick hot shower. Walk about five blocks to the subway station that will in Plaza de Mayo. Reluctantly greets the doorman, the safety insinuársele not stop at the receptionist who can not stand because he says he is a gossip, a few fellow pedants and only smiles when he meets Miriam, her friend, her confidant. Archiva, type, edit, send and receive folders full of gray paper. At one, with Miriam, Arlt walk to the plaza to eat an apple, a yogurt or a cereal bar, and talk of men, novels and chismoserías farandulezcas. Of two to five files, type in, edit, send and receive folders full of gray paper. On his return, to travel sitting, waiting for a subway again, flirting with a blond visually habituated schedule, read a book, a thriller regularly. Walk to the Chinese supermarket, buy milk, vegetables, pastas and meat occasionally. Spreads on the couch, drink coffee, look at the novel's seven and a bit of news, turn off the TV, preparing food, always with vegetables, a glass of chilled white wine, set the table, eat slowly maddening, lava dishes. Spreads back in his chair, calls me, tells me the same thing every day, the heat of the subway, the idiot security, the unbearable the chief and his arbitrary, fleeting boyfriends Miriam, gray papers. Distant sighs, asks me about my day, his voice is weak, tired. He greets me, tells me he loves me, it sounds sincere but sad. He falls asleep with the book in his lap, turns off the light at three o'clock. Four days repeated every one of their actions almost perfectly, the fifth is equal to five. Miriam and another companion advantage after hours, drink beer, destroy any woman, any man sigh, guess on the novel, the celebrity gossip and want to live like Sex and the City. Like all starts Saturday. Walk about five blocks to the subway station that will in Boedo. Lunch with her mom, speak of the routine, I suffer from the absence of his father. Go home, sleep until seven, get up, drink coffee, call me, we combine the meeting time and place, showering, grooming takes an hour, sometimes hour and a half if you did not like the image that would return the mirror. We met, dined, danced, we huddled in my apartment. I leave the blinds raised, the sun wakes me first at her and shook up unsuccessfully for twenty minutes. Purchase invoices, we kill, we go to my parents to eat barbecue. Take a nap, she talks to Marta, my mom. I get up, we kill, accompanied her to the house, we ate empanadas. I say goodbye. So far reviewed the routine could see no solution to my questions.
trivially repeat what they yearn to live as one of the characters in the series Sex and the City, but more like a game, I think, as has been said countless times that mom would be very happy, but for some reason, and mixed longing and weakness here, do not feel prepared to face motherhood. I see a light here, deepen: What can make her think she's not ready? We might say, has only twenty-five, but there seems a strong argument, there are women who are, and do so with enough poise, mother at a young age, teens to mature quickly. We could also argue their fear suffering, confinement would cower. Nor should we rule out that this is a completely independent person who makes use of their freedoms in full, as it has been expressed in the daily routine, and bear the responsibility of raising a child would take away autonomy, limited . I have dealt with motherhood, one of the possible triggers, but do not dismiss the fear of suffering, I lean more on the side of conditioned life. Duality "I want to be and stop being to" has disturbed or at least has been conflicted, to undertake a pregnancy, already implies the same kind, sharing, dividing chromosomes (although this is negligible), share (again I find no other synonym that better expresses the fact) for months the body, sharing time, space, joys, sorrows, fears. I have not helped me too with comments like: "How beautiful are the other guys ..."
were also added in their desires, one that, more generally it is less strong, and I talk about Happiness, well written with a capital letter, because we talked about it long and it is certainly unavoidable in it (who do you not?). It is clear that neither the path nor the goal that leads to happiness is for each person the same, so to speak means happiness for Helena performed, diffuse matter if you like, be labor, access to a management position as a mother made (with the reservations mentioned above), performed as a woman, sexually and emotionally speaking (from a modern view, but, in my opinion, incomplete, because in its very nature has registered their maternal role, a role that every month he recalls his own body). In the list are added to keep a family together. Finally after many twists and despite the statement, I concluded that happiness for Helena not too distant from that of ordinary mortals.
determined that the failures, labor, although much remains to be done, losing twice row the ability to take a senior position has been frustrating for her. In this and motherhood was circumscribed, in my opinion, the so far failure. And it came off as a woman have been done and have a strong family is clearly his greatest joys, and children, some of those little routines previously reported. Among its projects
chose: a car, own department, college and resume writing a book. None of them, in my opinion, you lose sleep.
far I have spoken of hopes, dreams, weaknesses, joys, plans, routines and failures, I rest inside in their suffering. The first thing is to be determined lost his father two years ago was a blow, were very close, has suffered greatly since the offense. Another is the difficulty to maintain their slim figure, suffering eating yogurcito and manzanita, knowing that a calorie suffer more loses his way. I did not find any other that is meaningful.
As you see, I have studied and reviewed extensively their lives without a reason, cause or justification strong enough to explain why Helen killed two days ago me pushing me off the balcony of his house while I was changing a light bulb climbed the ladder . Course has passed me a reason. This morning I visited Gabriel and I said down there that have commented on the news that liberated Helena, a young voyeur who spied on her usually has submitted a film of when I pushed off the balcony, which clearly is encountered with the framework window and falls on the stairs leading to my leap into the void, that Helena has confirmed his statement that running to the railing, because Thomas, the kitten puppy I gave, was poking his head dangerously through the bars, he stumbled.
think that I had to insist so much to agree with Thomas, to convince her that she would accompany an animal and that in those moments when loneliness hurts, would console. Here I have talked about destiny, the will of the eternal, but I can not get out of my head what my dad said: "Juan Carlos, Stop fooling around with the animals."

More about Rafael Muñoz Díaz:
http://ramudiart.com/Home_Page.html


Why? by Fernando Murano is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-SinDerivadas 3.0 Unported.
Based on a play in fernandomurano.blogspot.com .

Wood Playset Blue Print

traps

Daniel Paredes Story Painting by Graciela Bello


was enough to shoot himself, dammit. To get his head on the tracks. Security had been the Noelia, the hypocrite that he was always kicking a hornet's nest. I was already down here in the Noelia, which had to stick his nose where it was called! When she had sent anonymous, that was fixed, and now had to walk Yola throwing thunder, give the board to kill and waiting until he got to pop the head of a belly flop, and would have called the mother and the old I would be warming the ear, I would be saying he was a drone, an avid hummingbird and the whole bunch of antiques that he would repeat. Had to think what to say to his wife, had to find a lie that would save the hide, and urgent (micro that had already climbed Rivadavia), but how to concentrate if the brunette who had risen from the front seats are well deserved if I took a look, and now that looked better, deserved more than that.
came from the side, flying through the tangle of people who filled the bus, pushing the body to break through and watch her cleavage rates, suddenly bent down a little and peered out the windows as if lost, but he did not swallow this pill: the brunette knew well that he needed to download a century, and yet they were crouching, followed by hesitation seams of the skirt because he was pleased that a portion of Buenos Aires arches its to look at his ass, and how nice ass had two stops and still not touch timbre, if not down at Castro Barros was a post I was looking for war, and thus one could not concentrate on what he had to tell the Yola, least the kid in the front seat, a freckled face coloradito oval, a quail egg with a wig that two of three turned around to get language. I had thought not buy flowers at least!, But if you think, fall on his wife with a gift would mean acknowledging that he was off side, then it would be best to get as usual and hit a kiss and a hug but what was going to hit you hug? if the Yola had to walk made a thistle, "Do not touch me junk, I would say," Gather your things and means, let's go ", and the old would look to that side of beef eating chewing gum and he would release" You has sought mijito; go away to tease the other, that enough damage has already done this. " Old lampalagua, twenty years supporting that screws onto him their secrets, twenty long years waiting for death to take her away for good, but look what the black turra: Barros Castro had spent two stops and still not come down, "God, I swear that if I leave this, not to put the horns back to Yola. " I wish I could know what the anonymous said, she would know what to expect, but had been adamant Yola, "came a letter and I want you to come urgently," he had said only that when he spoke by telephone, and nervous tone left no doubt of I was determined to give the crack. Was pretty fucked be the thing for the Yola call him to the agency. Felt like jumping down from a train. Security had been the Noelia, this hypocrite. There was no alternative to get out: with the idiot coloradito sacándole language was impossible to think. The brunette had finally touched down and now ring on one side, and behind him, looking at the boots that disappeared under her skirt, boots shaped like Argentina, so high that it would tickle in Upper Peru. Lampalagua old, twenty years waiting for death to take her away for good, and in that eternity had not taken even this sympathy to the old, because the thing right from the start cubs had been wrong: the day the Yola said he was going to marry him, the old let go "Ha! Linda Cross has decided to go into the shoulder, mija, "and the party was crying as if it were buried instead of wedding, and had walked from table to table whispering" If only I were a decent man ... "as if being an artist is not decent, dammit, but the old woman had been dogged in that work was something else, and so I had gotten this job in an office of a pimp you the gift. How right he was when he told his father that the mother is like the blade tip, which is more advantage when underground. The brunette was standing on a pilchería and while looking at the window lit a cigarette. He was throwing a hook, any excuse was good to start a dialogue, give me fire, I say the time, but not because the Yola would be waiting and because he had sworn to God, and yet the blood that could, had need for this body to put another name on the list of bow traps, and also when the agency began to manufacture the poison had to drop it or yes to not die poisoned. Asked fire, and when I returned the cigarette, "Do not you mind if I ask some advice?". The brunette raised his eyebrows and pulled the bag, he hastened to say that it was the birthday of a friend and would like to give her clothes, "but I fashion half and half did you see?" Which will advise her that was good taste, and her "What do you know?" and there it was standing on, everything was a matter of tact, had to say it was clear there was good attention to detail combine the shadow of the eyelids with the beige blouse, and now that the black eyes lit up, even rescue the arch of the eyebrows and things like that, because the secret was to repair where they invest many hours of mirror and black and was going through the window and advised him a scarf and notice you do idea, a blue scarf, "Barbaro, is more original than a skirt and I can not fuck shit up at the waist" and the brunette enchanted. Had to take his arm, asking to enter to try on the scarf and pulled gently but firmly, and invented a black face plate was a surprise, but plin box, the rest was a formality, because the scarf had to buy it as a gift when you leave the hotel. He invited her to a cafe, "Look, you're a nice guy but", but nothing, because he was a public man, "I Dardo San Román, singer" and she died for her songs, "Especially for that ... What do you call that love ...?", contraband would it?, Yes, that was. The brunette sat the bag and the brightness of an alliance by the belt slipped. Married the black ... And told his father that a woman is like a hen, "Stop eating corn to go eat shit." Then there was bound to take coffee, all with careful matching hypocrisy, and finally put a face mangy dog \u200b\u200bto speed the way to bed. Luxury hotel because it was payday and the black was worth it. Blue Room dimmer lights on the bedside table the image of Christ with outstretched arms identical to one that Yola was crucified with bugs in the kitchen. He put up the package with the scarf so that Christ does not see naked. And that was the black cat, while the Yola would walk made a lion, the black bit her lips, bite Yola elbows, he pricked the conscience, the old woman asking to be separated Yola, asking him God that could resist the black asking him to wait, it better if they relaxed with a bath, which first him and then she was ashamed together. A shower without a word, because a mine infatuated love does mean machine. When he opened the rain the black was just wondering how many discs had been sold, "Twenty thousand plates in four months," and yes, it was good twine, labels were removed eyes for a record. And then there was a long silence, a distant sound of a lift and a fight with the cops, the water too hot and too cold soon, and when finished showering and drying and returned to the room, the black was gone . He checked his pockets but did not need to, if there where there should be a package with a scarf, was the Christ alone, staring at him with his face at all, saying "I was the oldest, Superman, they spend every day on the news. " I had threaded the black this! He had shown that in the theater of the jerks he sat in the front row. And to think that had missed the winner when the truth was I did not raise no land, Noel was the beginning and end in the list of bow traps. What would he Pajarón number in this black list? Do not fall when he said he knew if Dardo San Román did not know neither God four or five shows in a cabarutes Constitution, a couple of auditions in clandestine radio stations and a lifetime spent with that disquito doors shit that nobody wanted to produce. Already said his father ... but what the hell, if his father had never said anything, his father had been a poor devil, and he had spent his life inventing sentences like ticket to put them in your mouth. "Ticket sentences like" crying, and street people turned around. Now we had to kick up the house, tell the Yola, see the face of the old. And who could hold his gaze to the old? And the mirror? ... Because we had to accept once I was a mediocre. And how to continue loading the hump? Better to put his neck on the tracks, let the iron leg take charge.
When he reached the station Flores was getting dark. Neon lights slipping on the rails. He waited until he saw a blister on in the background of the landscape and then lay down in fetal position, his back to the locomotive. He rested his head on the road and felt the giant steps, closer, more and more giant. The long whistle of the locomotive put a stone in the stomach. "God does not want to live, do not let me escape like a rat." The bells of the level crossing was announced the imminence of death. The ringing became more stubborn, the earth shook, the giant continued to grow, honking cars had coupled from the level crossing, some people bitched, many of whom shouted that he saved, "do not let me escape like a rat, Lord." When we reached the light of the machine closed his eyes, and then could hear the mechanical noise of the engine, the complaint detailed some car, the turning of the wheel that would cut off his head and was too much. But when he pulled up he felt his neck. Then he realized: God would not allow to escape like a rat. He caught the sweater in one of the bolts that secured the rail to land. He struggled to escape, but the lack of space would not let him break the tissue. The mechanics of the train was monopolized everything. He thought of taking off sweater but a final beep neck ruffled him, "God does not want to die ...!", and when I said I was listening to their cries did not know who was crying and did not know the shame of being on top because shitting death was coming back there to give you a kick in the ass to life, and then the train passed.
routes for next happened. Looking out the window, the driver what puteaba in all languages. He looked back. Twenty meters wagons curled in a shunting yard. Stared at the tail of death went away, fingering the wool sweater, which coup had unhooked himself.


On reaching his house still shaking. From the hallway felt off the TV. La Yola and the old would be on guard: the Yola pressing the handle of the iron, the old, organizing their gestures, accommodating an eyebrow here and a corner over there to build your best face of Frankenstein.
The door should be opened in another house.
The old, curled in a chair, smiling faces of happy birthday. La Yola had been the best duds and was a bunch of strokes. And on the table, the letter, instead of an anonymous letter was a contract from EMI to record their album, With Love smuggled to the head. Without listening to the blandishments
collapsed in a chair. He looked up and faced the statue of Christ that was crucified with bugs Yola to the wall. That face of potato chip could not be the face of God. What then? It occurred to him a freckled oval face: the kid who will stick his tongue out at the mike.

More about Daniel:
http://fernandomurano.blogspot.com/2011/01/taller-literario-daniel-paredes.html

More paintings of Grace:
http://gracielabello-naif.blogspot
.com/2010/07/la-morocha.html

Watch Movie En Espanol

Angela Angela is here

I strained a moment to tell you that yesterday at 7.30 am born Angela. It was all very fast and both are fine. She weighed 2.540 grams. and measured 47.5 cm. As I get home I will put pictures and I will tell you everything.

Besic of the two.

Will Alcohol Freeze For Popsicles

Whole Salada kitchen in its proposal for the month of January we invited to prepare a classic French cuisine, a soufflé.

The truth as I read the proposal I was scared. This type of food not just to convince me, perhaps because the mechanics are very similar to the desserts and I am very bad pastry. I think one of my goals this year will try to improve in this area.

Anyway, I tried 2 times over the weekend, today I tried again and nothing. My attempt at a souffle of Emmental has remained just that, an attempt.

This is as close to my result. The first did not rise, the second (mea culpa) is black and the last was like the first. I hate to not take part but ... there are always bugs, right?.

To see if the proposal for the next month is my style and I can show you some results.

Average Size Of A Three Bedroom House In India

The Tale Tell-Tale Heart Leopoldo Lugones

of Edgar Allan Poe


's true! I've always been nervous, very nervous, terribly nervous. But why will you say I'm crazy? The disease had sharpened my senses, not destroyed not dulled them. And my ear was the sharpest of all. Heard all that can be heard on earth and in heaven. I heard many things in hell. How I can be crazy, then? Listen ... and observe how sane, how calmly tell them my story.
It is impossible to say how that idea popped into my head first, but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. I was not pursuing purpose. Nor was angry. I loved the old. I had never done anything wrong. I never insulted. Your money did not interest me. I think it was his eye. Yes, that was! He had the eye of a vulture ... A pale blue eye, a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold. So, little by little, very gradualmen-te, I made up my mind to kill the old and get rid of the eye forever.
Pay attention now. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. Instead ... If they could see me! You should have seen how wisely I proceeded! With what care ... with what foresight ... with what dissimulation I got to work! I was never kinder to the old days before killing him. Every night, about midnight, I turned the latch of his door and opened ... Oh so gently! And then, when the opening was big enough for my head, stood a dark lantern, all closed, closed, so not seeing any light, and then I head. Oh, you would have laughed to see how cunningly I thrust it! I moved slowly ... very, very slowly, so as not to disturb the sleep of the old. Took me an hour to place my whole head in the door opening, to see him lying on his bed. Huh? Is that a crazy person have been so wise as this? And then when my head was inside the room, opened the lantern cautiously ... Oh, so cautiously! Yes, I undid the lantern cautiously (for the hinges creaked)-I undid it just so that a single thin ray fell upon the vulture eye. And this I did for seven long nights ... every night at midnight ... but found the eye always closed, and so it was impossible to do the work, because it was the old man who vexed me, but the evil eye. And in the morning, when the day broke, I went boldly into the chamber and spoke courageously to him, calling him by name in a hearty tone, and inquiring how had spent the night. So you see he would have been a very profound old man to suspect that every night, just at twelve, I looked at him while he slept.
Upon the eighth night I was more than usually cautious in opening the door. A clock's minute hand moves more quickly than did mine. Never before that night had I felt the extent of my powers, of my sagacity. I could scarcely contain my feelings of triumph. Thinking it was there, slowly opening the door, and he did not even dream of my secret deeds or thoughts I chuckled at the idea, and perhaps he heard me, because I felt move on the bed suddenly as if startled. You would think that I laid back ... but no. His room was as black as pitch, as the old closed the shutters for fear of thieves, I knew that he could not see the opening of the door, and I kept pushing gently, gently.
I had my head and was about to open the lantern, when my thumb res-bleated in the shutter and the old man sprang up in bed, crying
- Who's there?
remained motionless, without a word. For a whole hour I did not move a muscle, and in that time I did not hear him lie in bed. He was still sitting, listening ... as I have done, night after night, listening to the sound wall drills which announces the death.
I heard a slight groan, and knew it was the groan of mortal terror. Not express pain or grief ... Oh, no! It was the low stifled sound that arises from the bottom of the soul when overcharged with awe. I knew the sound. Many nights, fair-mind at midnight, when the world slept, it came from my own bosom, deepening, with its dreadful echo, the terrors that distracted me. I say I knew well. I knew what the old man felt, and pitied him, although I chuckled at the bottom of my heart. I realized I had been awake since the first slight noise when moved in bed. He had been saying that the noise was nothing, but without success. I thought: "It's just the wind in the chimney ... or a cricket chirped once." Yes, he had tried to comfort himself with these suppositions: but all in vain. All in vain, because Death had approached him, slipping furtively, and enveloped the victim. And the mournful influence of the unperceived shadow was what caused him to feel-although he neither saw nor heard-to feel the presence of my head within the room.
Having waited a long time, very patiently, without hearing him lie down, I resolved to open a small, very little crevice in the lantern.
I did, you can not imagine how carefully, how stealthily-until a thin ray of light, like the thread of the spider, shot from the crevice and fell full upon the vulture eye.
was open, wide open ... and I grew furious as I gazed. I saw quite clearly, a dull blue with a hideous veil over it that chilled the very marrow. But I could not see anything on the face or body of the old, then, as if by instinct, had directed the ray of light right into the damned spot.
Is not I have already said that what you mistake for madness is but over acuteness of the senses? At that time reached my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as that a watch wrapped in cotton. He also was familiar sound. It was the beating heart of the old. It increased my fury, as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage.
But even yet I refrained and kept still. Barely breathing. I held the lantern so that no move, trying to keep up with all the firmness po-sible the beam on the eye. Meantime the hellish tattoo of the heart increased. It grew faster, increasing strong, moment by moment. The old man's terror must be terrible. Increasingly strong, stronger! Do you mark me well? I told them that I am nervous. Yes I am. And now, at midnight, in the terrible silence of that old house, so strange a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror. However, even a few minutes I refrained and stood still. But the beating grew louder, louder! I thought her heart would burst. And a new anxiety seized me ... Some neighbors could hear the sound! The old time had come! With a loud yell, I opened the lantern and leaped into the room. He shrieked once ... no more than once. It took only a second to throw it down and throw the heavy bed over. I smiled gaily, to find how easily I had been everything. But, for several minutes, the heart beat on with a muffled sound. Of course I was not worried, because nobody could hear through the walls. Stopped finally beating. The old man had died. I removed the bed and examined the corpse. Yes, he was dead, completely dead. I placed my hand on the heart and held it there many minutes. No was no pulsation. He was stone dead. His eye would never bother.
If still you think me crazy stop doing when I describe the wise precautions I took for the concealment of the body. The night waned, and I worked hastily, but in silence. First of all I dismembered the corpse. I cut off the head, arms and legs.
then took up three planks from the flooring of the room and hid the remains in the hole. I then replaced the boards so cleverly that no human eye-Not even his-could have detected the slightest difference. There was nothing to wash ... no stain ... no trace of blood. I was too cautious for that. Cuba had collected a all ... Ha ha!
When I finished my task was four in the morning, still dark as midnight. At a time when the bell sounded the hour, hit the front door. I went to open it with a calm, for what had I now to fear?
entered three men, who were presented with perfect suavity, as officers of polic-ed. During the night, a neighbor heard a scream, so it was suspected the possibility of any attack. Upon receiving this report in the police station, had commissioned three agents to search the premises.
smiled, then ... What had I to fear? I welcomed the official and explained that I had launched the cry for a nightmare. I let them know that the old man had been absent in the country. I took my visitors all over the house and invited them search-search well. Finally, I led the chamber. I showed them his treasures intact and how everything was in place. In the enthusiasm of my confidence, I brought chairs into the room, and desired them here to rest from their fatigues, while I myself, with the audacity of my perfect triumph, placed my own seat upon the very spot beneath which reposed the corpse of my victim.
officers were satisfied. My manner had convinced. For my part, I was perfectly comfortable. They sat and chatted of familiar things, while I answered cheerily. But after a while, I felt myself getting pale and wished them gone. My head ached, and I fancied a ringing in the ears, but the police still sitting and talking. The buzzing grew louder, still resonating and became increasingly intense. I spoke loudly to get rid of that feeling, but still the same and it was becoming increasingly clear ... until, at last, I realized that the noise was not within my ears.
No doubt I get very pale, but I talked more fluently, and a heightened voice. Yet the sound increased ... And what could I do? It was a low, dull, quick sound ... a sound that could make a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I gasped for breath, and yet the officers heard nothing. I talked more quickly, strongly, but the noise steadily increased. I stood up and argued about trifles, in a high key and with violent gesticulations, but the noise steadily increased. Why not be gone? I walked to and fro with heavy strides, as if the observations of the men enraged me, but the noise steadily increased. O God! What could I do? I foamed with rage ... cursed ... I swore ... Swung the chair upon which I had been sitting, and grated it upon the boards, but the noise arose over all others and continually increased. More high ... higher ... higher! And in between, both still the men chatted pleasantly, and smiled. Could not hear? God! No, no! They heard and they suspected! They knew ... were making a mockery of my horror! Yes, I thought so and this I think! But anything was better than this agony! Anything was more tolerable than this derision! No could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer! I felt that I must scream or die, and then ... again ... listen ... stronger ... stronger ... stronger ... stronger!
- Stop pretending, wicked! "I yelled. I confess that I killed him! , Here! There ... there! Is the beating of his hideous heart!

County Cottage Little Tike

souffle Failure to hold a pizza that is less than 15 days

should be seen as Over time, I have less than 15 days to see Angela's face. The due date is 30 January and so far I think it will be advanced. This week I had the first baseline test, review of gynecology and obstetrician. All great but still green, but my gut has begun to decline. Of time or a contraction, or at least that I have learned. Of course, every day I get tired more, I am not able to do certain things and does not seem to be small. What hurts me most is literally a foot that takes a lot (you can touch enterito the heel) and broken my ribs but it's a toll to be paid.

I left you a pic of this afternoon, we three girls in the house. Angela, Seika and I, we have Mr asustadico the house with what comes up. Now, finally, I can presume to gut out cost him a lot.

As I get more tired than I spend less time in the kitchen and throw fast food. This week a lot of salad and meat / fish on the grill. However, checking the cupboard I found this.

And I thought it was time to use it, not how long you bought it in Lidl. I love when they put things like that have always come out richer. So in the first few guisantitos and then we took on the pizza.

TURKEY AND BACON PIZZA

Ingredients (2 persons)

• 1 package pizza dough Lidl 3
• turkey breast fillets
• frankfurt 2 turkey sausages
• Smoked Bacon strips
• Ketchup
• Herbs ( basil, oregano, tarragon)
• shredded mozzarella cheese 4 cheese mixture
• 150 ml. warm water
• 2 tablespoons oil

Development

The dough preparation is simple, the package came the preparation and baking . You have to put everything in a bowl with warm water and oil and knead. The instructions recommend it to a mixer, as I have no manuals and the barillas did my hands perfectly. Once it is prepared must let sit for 20 minutes in a warm place, after which it will stretch on a floured surface into the shape you want. As always, I forget to take pictures of the previous steps, I have to be more attentive.

I tried to give a rectangular shape (more or less) and started getting the ingredients. Tomato sauce, spices, turkey fillets cut into strips, sliced \u200b\u200bsausages and bacon strips. Before putting the cheese, put it in the oven, which was preheated to 200 degrees, so that the base and not left cogiese soft consistency. I would bake about 10 minutes and then I added mozzarella and 4 cheese mixture. Back to the furnace and no longer time, until golden brown to your liking.

As you can see was a little irregular but the taste was goodism.