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MEDICINE: ASSEMBLE THE TRUCE

Well is here my medication. Mercedes and Ramon gave me the impetus for the hang, I left as it was, two words changed. I had a really well with this year's workshop. Greetings all, hope you get the fun veins as much as me.

hell to

Composition: arm, the, fat. Assemble: Prepare the gun to shoot, to provide them, have something. The: definite article feminine. Gorda: A person or thing (female) of meats abundant, bulky.

Package Contents: arguing, falling into an embarrassing, illogical action (especially for the ear) out beyond the limits of citizenship education.

Indications (When to use)

is highly recommended when you wish to claim oppressed their rights when your partner put the horns or someone you strain forward in line at the supermarket. Use it as a means to vent their murderous rage against that person.

Contraindications (In which case their use is not recommended)

is not recommended in the presence of his boss or his mother. It is also not recommended if you want to impress someone. Not the fat arm yourself because it would be useless and would cause a profound headache.

Precautions (considerations to take into account)

First, remember that before love the fat should be sure to have an optimal state of your throat; to certify it, shout twice pretty hard, so you can see whether it is favorable to assemble. Before love the fat, you must guard against their persons or victims are not deaf, for then such act shall be reduced to minimum levels of effectiveness. Must then develop other methods to raise Cain. If you're dumb, it will be difficult but not impossible. If only the deaf, and can scream all you can not hear, or hear, you are then the perfect guy to hell to pay.

before assembling, make sure you read that right. It is not "love" for then you should love the fat, something that we do not respond of possible side effects, whether marriage, children and divorce: the company that makes this product "raise Cain" is not responsible for their expenses. Well, if you are the fat these final instructions will care a damn.

If you take the floor at the foot of our product, you may be hard to find a fat to assemble properly. Caution: fat army can not give as good results. To buy ammunition and weapons license must have full-fledged weapons. Again, if you can not find a plump, we will provide it. If you find it on their own (very strange not to) make sure the fat is a good person, decent and reasonable to put it together. Note that a fat evil army, arming the fat, could be very harmful to your health and all those around.

Note: the company bears the cost of weapons and ammunition.

Interactions (simultaneous support or rejection of other products)

Can you love the way while not killing time. Neither can be conjugated with "a good listener, few words are enough" because it will be taking the opposite as the salmon river.

Dosage (Mode and frequency of use)

To hell to pay should you apply all their ingenuity of anger in two ways: the speaker and the physical expression. Shouting to the chime in the air, lying and possibly carrying a drum. This is nothing elegant movements followed by hands and legs.

In which case you prefer the second option (the literal), will put the belt of ammunition to the fat, and a shotgun in one hand, a pistol hidden in his boot, and accompanied by a bow quiver. It is then when it is armed. We advise

hell to pay more than once per month. FIN

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tarot

Feeling Of Cocaine On The Gums

GORDA MARIO BENEDETTI

Truce

MARIO BENEDETTI

SYNOPSIS

Published in 1960 , the truce is the work of Mario Benedetti has gained acclaim. The gray daily routine, marked by frustration and lack of prospects for the urban middle class, permeates the pages of this novel, which, in the form of a diary, narrates a short life of an employee who is widowed, approaching retirement, whose existence is divided between office, home, coffee and a precarious family life dominated by a difficult relationship with some children and adults. An unexpected love affair, which seems to offer the player a horizon of freedom and personal happiness is tragically interrupted and will just be a paragraph? A truce? in their daily struggle against boredom, loneliness and the inexorable passing of time.

From the first time that I approached this book, I felt a special connection with her. Sometimes I come to think that was written for guys like me. And with that conviction I reread it a second time. One day I heard that if a work lingered in our memory, that good work was irreversibly or irretrievably bad. After reading many authors, having spent the time, I still remember the lines of Mario as almost as if it were yesterday. Perhaps not a masterpiece, but of those that are worth reading, or at least so it seemed to me. For each one, with their tastes, is master of himself and nobody else.

" I would feel proud having become a widower with three children and have come forward. But I'm not proud, but tired. Pride is when you are twenty or thirty years. Coping with my children was an obligation, the only escape for society are not addressed to me and looked inexorable dedicated reserves heartless parents. There was no other solution and I came forward. But it was always too compulsory and so I could feel happy. "

Digging a little about the novel, I discovered that was filmed two movies based on it, so at least is a good sign. (Or bad, depending on what works and criteria). Try to see the movies as soon as possible to discuss whether do honor to the book, or rather, he was demoted to mediocrity.

Finally, I recommend the reading of a large English literature that not only shone in poetry, but also knew how to do it in a small drop of literature that quenched my thirst in a day past of this world.

"I spent all?" I asked. "Yes, it all happened." It was a lie, but both understood ways that was good at lying "

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recommend reading this essay for those who want to learn more: ESSAY ON

THE TRUCE, GREAT ARTICLE

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(CLICK ON IMAGE TO READ THE STORY IN PDF)

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Puclicidad:

tarot

Bad Breath After Wisdom Teeth Extraction

Impressions living to tell, Gabriel García Márquez

Living to Tell the compendium and recreation is a key time in life of the author, year children and youth, those in which would be based around the imaginary, over time, will result in some of the key stories and novels in English literature of the century twenty. Living to Tell the novel of a life and, throughout its pages, the reader García Márquez find echoes of characters and stories that have populated his unforgettable novels like Hundred Years of Solitude or Love in the Time of Cholera , thus becoming a reading guide for all his work, an indispensable travel companion for light travel and unforgettable characters who, after reading these pages acquire a new perspective. (REVIEW OF THE BOOK COLLECTION)

............................ .................................................. .......... SMALL PRINT

This novel is a billet of stone, recommended only for Marquez's most voracious readers or learners a writer whose work will be just as valuable it will become a required reference book for them. Because this book is a road sign that Gabo had to go to become what it is today: a good writer, a goal that you had problems and enjoy unimaginable.

The unreality of a country submerged in the past and still later period of brutal violence, punctuated by a liberal period of great progress, we see through the eyes of an elderly you relive your memories. That is, not only are counted realities through a particular viewpoint, but rather the touch that gives the blessing memories and the evil of forgetfulness.

"Then ran cafes taciturn old neighborhood looking for someone to make me the love of talking to me about the poems you just read. Sometimes I found - always a man --- and we stayed until after midnight in a seedy hole, finishing the cigarette butts that we ourselves had smoked and talking about poetry while the rest of the world humanity made love. "

This recall is felt that provided the true stories Gabo the beginning of his great literary works. So for those who marvel at Marquez, I recommend this reading after reading an acceptable number of his works. Litter are essential, Story of a Shipwreck, Love in the Time of Cholera, Chronicle of a Death Foretold and masterful Hundred Years of Solitude. But I repeat that this book is invaluable for those who want to learn to write and to start on the paths of literature whose work is not easy, far from it.
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I dared to ask what was the underlying reason, and his response was chilling simplicity: - Because quit being & # 237; to kill for you and a loved one. was an explosion of clairvoyance. I never knew why, nor wanted to know, but squeezed the cigarette in the ashtray just on, and I did not smoke one more, without anxiety or remorse, the rest of my life.

............................................. ........................................... Critical

brainy RICARDO FAJARDO

comprehensive Critical María José López Pourailly

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FIRST CHAPTER OF THE BOOK IN PDF

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Mizuno Wave Spike Lightning

Photo: The Eiffel Tower / La Tour Eiffel

I loved this picture of me from the Eiffel Tower, the picture would be similar to what can be seen from the Seine and a peach sunset date .

Will A 223 Kill A Human

Javier Díaz Cerezo won the first competition-defining "Creature Bonica "

COMPETITION AND ITEM NOT SUITABLE FOR PEOPLE NOT IMAGINATIVE

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CONTEST WINNER OF FIRST-defining "CREATURE Bonica"

CHERRY JAVIER DÍAZ.

This contest was a joke extended to infinity and beyond. Innocent at first, the madness of some exalted as to what has become today: " In the best of all world events "

By "own opinion"

For those who do not know, this event was to define and name this creature drawn by Juan Manuel Rodriguez Sousa:

All those who aportaron su granito de arena definiendo esta criatura extraña y conmovedora a un tiempo se llevaron un Calendario 2009 tamaño tarjeta de crédito por el solo hecho de participar. Son los siguientes:

Almudena Bueno, Javier Cerezo, Silvia Mel, Mónica Semedo , Jorge Alegacha, Elvira García e Iris Barrio.

(Así son los calendarios)

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El lugar escogido por todos was the legendary and incomparable Albanta Tea, known in all corners of the world for its rich shakes and its teas in love in the light of their candles. A corner of the supernatural flavors.

The gala night was spent laughing stealth, after the three finalists presented with their awards.

FINALISTS:

Barrio Iris was always characterized by a swanky dress and their excessive punctuality. (Arrived half an hour before)

Javier Cerezo, his enthusiasm infected us all with a fine gesture of ironic humor.

Silvia Mel could not keep the appointment because they were terrible death because of embarrassment caused by the kilo of Lacasitos that licked at a multiplex. On his behalf was Melodie.

(From left to right: Javier Cerezo, Iris Barrio, the labor representative Silvia Melodie Mel)

How do you see in the picture, the joy of the finalists was tremendous to receive special awards, which were branded pages. The appetizer with candles came as preparations were completed by the end of the gala.

The time of the end was near, here you can read their definitions:

Silvia

I must say juancho this little lizard called Pierre. Has the ability to observe rays x, and changes color depending on the situation, your eyelashes are so long that form a hurricane in the middle of a desert in less than what he sings a rooster. Besides having a terrible skill: get us all riled up because it's so ugly

Silvia 2 (this is the contestant who participated with both definitions)

The name of this animal is EPINEO, is a lizard juancho when he gets angry that you check the mouth wash. Then, to catch insects, stretch the language to infinity and beyond, and when it's good or wants to conquer that has done something bad will very quickly move the tabs up and down and you have no choice but to forgive.

...

Iris Martin Barrio

I still think it is a contemporary abstract style cat , (and one Siamese well) ... Well yes, one who has fathered a Komodo Dragon (do not ask me how, because the National Geographic documentary I missed it) And you're 'voilà' this is the result. That cute little hybrid that mimics Juanma! ^ _ ^

Javi

There is no doubt that this is a Mexican Desert Dragon, as can be seen in such features as characteristic. It is known as Dragunus deserticus , and is an extinct species. All this is known by the shamans of the area. It
Language course called Arrupta, due to the nature of it.

.

And it's time to declare the absolute winner!

The Jury is composed of a special friend at all times was present at the gala, he felt his spirit roaming around the teahouse. This is my friend Mercedes Martin, in his words, it was really difficult to decide the winner of the contest.

The charge of making known the name was invaluable, the unmistakable, the incredible ... Almudena Bueno Jaime!

(will be included in a future video)

as we all know, the winner was able to sweep Javier Cerezo with its definition shamanistic. The award consists of more than one million euros and a package of a calendar 2009 (to participate), bookmarks (for finalist) and a card for winning the contest.

The joy was overflowing the entire team of the tournament. In the next photo shows the official psychologist was an intense contest that work in support of all participants. In between is our hostess high cache and the right is the winner transmitting the overwhelming emotion that every human being feels to have won a prize of similar importance

.

In honor of the winner was given an interesting interview where he tells us many details about the contest and his life.

Sinopsisdelarte:

The secret to making this important event which is it? "Skill, Knowledge or Bribery?

Javier Cerezo:

Well ... If I be honest, a mixture of the first two, wit, and knowledge. The bribe was beyond my reach at this event.

Sinopsisdelarte:

Could be the key on your trip to Mexico? To our knowledge, met a very particular Shaman.

Javier Cerezo:

Well, well (laughs), and everyone knows my desire to know the different cultures that are around the world. Well, I have some acquaintances that I contributed much knowledge about the Dragonus deserticus.

Sinopsisdelarte:

Okay, then we assume that this award will be shared by some of the people that helped you raise yourself to the award.

Javier:

"Are you crazy? Now I'm rich and famous thanks to this event and the large prize. It's time to lose, change my identity and continue to travel the world.

If you'll excuse me, I have to catch a flight, I would not lose it. But ... would conflict with the law. Thanks.

Sinopsisdelarte:

Well, a few words for the finalists and participants who did not win

Javier Cherry:

Next time, maybe is there to stop me (laughs malicious)

Sinopsisdelarte:

And we'd like to fire a salute to the readers of this important site, the sponsor of the competition.

Javier Cerezo:

thanks to them I'm that important flight, and now I have to watch the interview in a stinking cell with a serial murderer, or maybe with a former mayor, or maybe a flamenco dancer. Thank you very much.

Sinopsisdelarte:

You.

The show finished in the fleeting light of that corner of the supernatural flavors.

Freeoffrode Buggy Plans

REPORT-TEXT: NEXT STOP (MARS)

Hello, down here I leave a rare text that I wrote long ago and I went back to correct a few months ago. It is a text-tale so strange that I do not know is worthy of being posted on the blog or worthy of a Nobel Prize. (I think more the former than the latter, right?) Anyway, I hope to investigate further comments on this type of writing.

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Mars

Live the memory of a trip. Close your eyelids, open your eyes. Look at the sky and down at your feet feel the path that takes you to Mars. Mars, eternal life. Out of here. Meditate in the church, come to flush a ravine, always breathe. Look, do not rest, searches through the darkness, fear biting. Crosses the past, the years lost by that time. Just a moment. "It was worth it? I think so. Take the keys and throw them out the window. Fall into the pool of blue plastic. Think if it was a mistake. Not worth eating coconuts. Grab the wallet and devour bright marks between establishments. Contemplate the wrinkles in the mirror of a window. You were dreaming. Awake. Embrace the iron bars. Oxide reaches your bones and do not know how to hold dream another day in this cage. Dogs. Read a face peep poem, imagine the collective fríay shower: naked women, men sweating, creams and steam stale jelly achicharrándote face. This world is just imagine and decide whether to kill the child within you. People spend, spend quiet the crowd. Walk on, walk path to Mars. Mars is heaven. The cell captures the beating they gave you that day. The cell hidden. Do not you remember? Fear Biting, peering into the darkness and none of it helped. The cell is still there and that candy man. The child in your womb. Do not know what to do. A dental clinic. The umbilical cord cut too soon. Crouch look. Still in the shadow of your hand, you leave your child in a landfill. Screams. Tears. People meter wobble. Car keys floating in a blue sea and no fish died. You grab the bar. You've made your decision between hidden sweats. Antiperspirants. People are air. You go home, alone. The lights blind you and you stop for the night. These locked in an event. Rape. Waxed for life. Innocent but the child is already dead and your impatience will wait forever, the next stop.

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Story written by Juan Manuel Rodriguez de Sousa.

................................................ ...................................... Image collection

Galaxies and Platenas.

Designer Replica Luggage

A story from my friend Silvia: FOR ...

Hello to all followers of the blog. In this post we will welcome Silvia. For that you may know a little better here I leave a photo of yourself and your presentation.

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Mel Ferrer Silvia
His hobbies are music, theater, singing, film, above all, fashion, occasionally writing and photography, almost all related to art world.

................................. .................................................. ...

HERE IS THE STORY IN PDF BE EASIER TO READ.

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To ...

dreamed so that we can have everything that I was going through my head, but something told me it was not a good idea.

was for the year 1960, if I remember it like yesterday, every day she went to see Parrish playing baseball, the guy's eyes clear, fair, tall and a figure to which all envied.

pequeñoy had been played since becoming famous among all and all, through the halls between classes and there was nobody who did not speak to him except her. Shy, atrevíaa not take a step without which he would have before, I looked out the corner of the eye gently, as he looked boldly muscles in the mirror who had recently installed at the entrance of the institute. They agreed

algebra class with Miss Claire, pointed nose, sharp eyes, curly blond hair, very thin and with a certain smell of snuff. Smoked a lot of stress because he did suffer, and after we paid in class because no one atrevíaa call to ask about the wretched stench given off & # 237; to your cardigan and get indulged in a hundred problems in an hour.

For even having to think, she just noticed gathers Parrish's forehead while trying to solve a problem or how her hair was played again and again cause of the nervousness that caused him not knowing how to respond to problems with some credit. Miss Claire was struck often, but she was admiring it again and again. All his life

hovered in the sense of clockwise when marking the five, took leave of the professor went francésy by the classroom door as if it carried out demons. Yes, here again Parrish, curiously, played baseball one block from her house, by the way her name was Emma.

She had to run because the training started at quarter past five, and if the least entertaining and not had time to see how Parrish stroked his hair as he ran, or as he winked when he came to the tier where she stood.

I see it all so clear, even with rapid breathing and flushed cheeks because of the race, I was pretty. Upon arrival was placed on the strategic point mark for months, enduring the skirt to find the right spot, fanned the booklet francésy While the rubber band was placed hair. Everything should be ready at the appointed time, everything should be perfect.

At half past six all ran out, his dream was fading until the next day at quarter past five, so pick the skirt volvíaa lower tier and running again, now that was a quarter to seven he played piano lesson. A whole virtuous Miracle ran into the street, where Mr. Amien was waiting with a punctuality English with a tea of \u200b\u200bcinnamon and cherry. Piercing eyes, dark eyes, gray hair and quite tall.

From the window of the house of Mr. Amien is seen playing melodies unbridled virtuosity and beauty. Bethoveen rendiríaa your feet if you see her now passionate, godly, proud and beautifully melodic. His eyes gave off a brilliant shine, her cheeks turned a switch on the excitement, there seemed no one else at that time in that small , or English classroom.

Wow, a quarter to eight and everything just turns off the melody, Mr. Amien says goodbye to Emma with great enthusiasm by the progress made in the week, came to the door and given the new score to study. She will make two dolls in the face of sonreíry finally dismissed Mr. Amien waving the new score.

now calm, all is calm, the day is nearly over and it was time to go home. Just as he arrives, his brother Brian is in the garden playing with the dog, she is excited to see the fun entrañay that are available to play with them both. He takes off his shoes, he likes the feel of grass on their feet, the coolness of the breeze, a slight breeze caressing your hair from time to time. He throws a small ball of yellow to Bor, as she never stops running around the garden to another, shaking his pigtail, by balancing the skirt, laughing, until he hears the voice of Cath, his mother, big eyes, thin, flat nose and a great tendency to exaggerate everything.

It's time for dinner, then she looks out the window of the hallway of his home that is unique to the garden, sonríea Cath, collects the ball and passed an arm around Brian, taking him with her into the house.

At six o'clock get up for breakfast and go find their way to school her friend Elsa, dark, olive eyes and short. They talk about training the previous day's Parrish, Elsa detail is never lost and asks, as every day, you chapter and verse describing each step.

When they get to high school meet with the other girls are telling you about the party on Friday. It is a festival celebrated for the start of summer, whew! Happy Holidays, everyone in the institute is shaken by the news but she, naturally, does not give importance to the news just because you already have the costume for weeks, bought it in Clarens and Clark. If I remember that day, she was excited because after going to see Parrish was going to buy it. He was there with his mother and a showcase of street Terrier was the perfect outfit was purple, he flashes out everywhere, had a fine straps that she he loved it and the color was perfect.

He did not just go down to the store and try it to realize that this was her dress was beautiful and prove it was a semi collected for best seen lounging. I do not know, but at that moment, my breath was spectacular, brilliant, beautiful, elegant, like when he played the piano.

are back in the corridors of school when everyone else whispers, or tells the fellow next to him, who will accompany the party or who want to go. She is silent, he just wants something spectacular happens, everything goes perfect, as she had planned. But for now, going with the girls, but expect something great happen.

is excited, almost in a cloud. The time, who had been waiting for months, was only a few hours of your hands. Everyone Parrish rumored that this year would go to a normal person, you know a girl is not popular, dark and dramatic eyes that completely fill the party and leave in the background to wreaths and ornaments of the feast.

One day at school was made eternal, in your face you could see the desperation to play the class ring algebra and Miss Claire absurd to stop problems on the board. Finally, the five, but that afternoon was not the same as everyone was aware of the party, and Parrish, who avisaríaa the person you would just half an hour before the party began. It was a way of torturing the girls and another way to prove that he had the power beyond the track of baseball.

Indeed, the party held Maquenzi home of a surname a bit odd but existing. Ah the Maquenzi!, Just two years would they had acquired in the village the great country house, by inheritance of the grandfather of Aria, Aria yes, the daughter of Maquenzi. God! How I like to repeat the name is great

Aria, the new dick, when it attacks women gave fresh from plowing in the field sweating and whining, no who had put up with, and when he put in a position to posh girl, he could not endure, but of course, had a large house which made her the most popular of the area and a spectacular physical goddess Olympus. No one endured but everyone talked about was part of their celebrations. Sometimes they even said that some of these were older men, academics who stayed until the wee hours of the morning in his habitacióny advantage to go when the parents down to give the nod to the preparation of breakfast. In short, all a stray bullet in our society, a meanness parents would never accept anyone.

Aria

My theory: the parents were so strict that the left make parties only if the next day was able to get up at five o'clock and be, at least until the time of going to school reviewing their duties with different tutors. Here is the theory of the output of older men and not so early in the morning. No one saw them enter because the door fell atrásy almost always came on foot, so the car never left the porch, which the neighbors saw only riding the big festivals, and the next day the parents would Aria leisurely breakfast which made him even if the outputs of the teachers.

But she, this day, lo preparaba con especial atención, colgaba ella misma las guirnaldas, preparaba ponche, hacia los canapés y luego decía que había alquilado el catering.

Volvamos al momento nervioso de Emma. A las cinco fue directamente a la mercería Timble, era una pequeña mercería que llevaba años cerca de su casa, la dueña la conocía desde que era pequeña cuando su madre iba a comprar las telas con las que le hacía aquellos vestiditos de cuadros tan bonitos que llevaba en la guardería, desde entonces era guapa.

Fue a por un lazo de color mauve matched her dress, put it in your hair so do him a perfect hairdo to stop seeing her beautiful back and a flower to enliven this dress. After giving almost jumps out to have found just what she wanted, and came home to prepare for the party comenzaríaa seven and still had ; to hope.

Six and a half, ready, nervously looking out the window of his room, the sun still shone and I could see her, looking steadily into the street, her mauve dress to flash , her hair tied with ribbon that showed his face, beautiful, dazzling and a little scarf gently caressed her shoulders, her diamond earrings, the flower, everything for me was a celebration of good taste.

Suddenly the unexpected happens, Parrish gosh no, ran into the street, deepening, easing its way increasingly to the door of the house of Emma, \u200b\u200bshe confused but happy of course, once again his face lit up playing a melody in C major in his head.

The moisture in the window was becoming more visible, breathing with a rapid heart rate and finally, he rings the bell.

No, if the spoil this happens, let the beauty of balance given off from every pore of his body, kill the color flowers in their dress and then the sparks would become mere holiday wreaths. He did not deserve to admire it, have it at hand, whisper in his ear, his breath releasing under his neck until the ecstasy in her eyes broke into a blinding light, no, did not deserve it.

He was a stunning cold it a firefly in the midst of a summer night, he was superficial, she delved into those melodic symphonies of Beethoven, he looked at the f & # 237; psycho in a mirror, she looked at the depth of his gaze, he dreamed of fame, she with him.

hurt me deep in the soul, it's all over me, suffocating heat up the impotence of me, he knew nothing of it. I did not know that, in the afternoon as he left the school and came home, arriving to grass he removed his shoes because he liked to feel the sensation of coolness on their feet, not knowing that poníaa playing with his dog and his brother minutes before the call to his mother dinner. He did not know often prefer to eat a strawberry and vanilla ice cream with her friends on ships rather than a piece of cake, he did not know he arrived in the morning to school and stopped at the desk to wait to arrive off a sweet smell of lavender filled every corner of that horrible hall, that sometimes when playing the piano was able to get both in melody that he lit the cheeks, when I was in class and looked at Miss Claires could not shake the pencil from one place to another without stopping because nervousness that caused him to have him around, that his favorite flower was the tulip, its color is red and his favorite food pizza, that the blush when they highlight some of their physical, that his heart was so big that had room for everyone and everything.

Parrish did not deserve to ring the doorbell of his house, but he did and that changed everything. She went out fast, opened the door with the timidity that characterized her, her parents looked with affection, paternal affection that made him feel safer. She grabbed her purse and Parrish's hand and the door closed. I could hear the footsteps of his heels, slowly moved away from there, slowly, and nothing could make her happier because his hand touched his fingers, nothing not a word, only silence, a silence and nothing uncomfortable kind.

way On the way to the party, which was three blocks away, and break the ice, he in a display of sympathy, began making jokes about the kind of people who would be at the party and the stupid things they said when you were drunk, ; God, how your sweet ears could hear such nonsense, how could risk anything and conform to the s & # 243; I have about a person as ...?

She could not stop looking at him was a dream that never would have imagined, what would your friends when they saw Parrish arm of God?, what would Aria to such an aberration when he did not go with her?

At last the party, the happy holiday!, When he came through that door I knew it would be my downfall, my disappointment , my next pain. Everything was normal, everyone danced and had fun, everyone drank, talked, and kissed each other they tried, she in the bathroom talking to her friends, the still could not believe what happened ...

comes a time when everyone expected and that others would hate to this day, Parrish and Emma running the ball last night, the climax, the spectacle ; ass just begun for her.

They look, she hesitates, can not utter a word, not even mind being by far the most admired of the party, or what it will bring after his legs were shaking too much and should focus on it not to fail in any way. The center of the huge hall was filled with his presence and a pleasant smell of lavender. Which would have to be in the center of the world with it, everything I would have given everything, even my life.

The music is beautiful, is beautiful because it shows the essence of it, without realizing it, his legs stop shaking, imagining that they are alone in that room, like two lovers sneak in the middle a masked ball. I could not wait and sadness took possession more and more of me now could not even hate him because she loved him, even now could have you grudge because she forgiveness & # 237; to in his eyes, now let me hold on to the idea that it was he who should be with her now because she had well chosen.

Just look at it as I had had done so far, in silence, from a corner, as an impasse in his life, dark, as far as their vision does not reach , n.

Five minutes after starting his fantasy, my dream ends. How unfair it was, how much it hurt, how clouded my eyes, how dark my soul. \u0026lt;\u0026lt; I ended >> I decíaa myself here in this place so cold, at this very moment my heart stopped and I was only to comfort, often comforting. All I could do is keep looking every corner of that center where he was and, when he thought he had looked hard enough, I turned around, I bumped into Parrish the shoulder - I found butter-and I accidentally threw a glass of punch in the suit that I had bought into a few hours. I was also at that time a stain, what else I did, what else I felt if I could not dream about it and if I could not take it into the dance, looking, taking the privilege of keeping her eyes for a moment, smelling her hair , slightly grazing my cheek yours.

Now it is time for nothing, I began to move with the rhythm of the music and drink punch, I spoke with many people at the party, and did not look ma , s, did not want to be inside her, I did not remember, so the madness took hold of me and for once in a while I had fun, I took off my jacket and the music was all I could calm so I heard, I heard so much that we could only focus on it.

comes the end of my fun party, noon, curfew for all, I had been on the car so I prepared to leave the house, there was almost no everybody was on the porch starting the engines of their cars, continuing with their lives, simply by leaving.

poetry had much in all this, how much they dislike, how much melody, what beauty, how much I had left in the room of the house, much!

Just give me time to run across one last time with the only person who would have ever expected, and had left atr & # 225; s when forgiveness invade your mouth and I can only say goodbye. I stumbled upon it when leaving the party and ... I could only say goodbye, how empty, how dead, and she only turned her head to Parrish, taking his hand, then getting into a car.

remember I ripped the car, without wishing to continue anything, just go as did the others go. Halfway we had to take a detour because the road had been cut so that all who were at the party had to take the path of the forest: a long road to the people on both sides surrounded by cypress trees. I remember I opened the window to smell wood wet, he could see almost nothing through the fog, I saw cars doing crazy because of the drink and went my way when I spotted a car on the side of the ravine , had a turn, was completely the opposite.

was confused and bewildered. I remember I left the car and placed at the edge of the cliff, the car was fully rotated so that they could barely see or tuition, ah & # 237; legs began to tremble. He kept yelling at the occupants of the car, but nothing, no one answered; so I decided to go down.

was fast, got off without thinking about it, I fell to the ground, I still remember the cold touch of moss when you put my face in the ground in the attempt to see how many people were in the car and whether they were good. My heart was beating fast and I could hardly see straight. In the back seat someone said something very softly, when I turned my head when I turned, I went ice. It was she, his tie fell into the back touching the roof of the car that was upside down, Blood covered his eyes, was a huge gap that would not stop bleeding in his head with trembling hands I could pick it up and drive her out of that hell.

Then I worried about anyone else, she was in danger and for the first time I saw my face. At that moment he wanted to see the hand of Parrish even into a church to get married, he wanted to see her in a house in one of the best residential streets, those who have homes in line, surrounded by c & # 233; grass and playing with his children, had wanted to see her putting flowers in different places in your home while reading the newspaper Parrish, he wanted to see her leave of him giving a light kiss on the lips, actually, before seeing her lying on the floor covered in blood, cold, motionless.

When I got to have her in my arms she was almost inert, did nothing but say he had a headache, I saw his seriousness, I saw the seriousness of the matter and I realized & # 237; do not have much time left. For his mouth came words without meaning, nor kept saying she was cold so I covered it with that disgusting and new punch-stained jacket, patted ; her hair again and again, pressed against my chest to feel my presence, I wanted to stay, I wanted with all my strength, I looked into the eyes but every time she closed them more often and for longer, his wound was mortal, the weight of the car had rolled back the site, digging a piece of window glass in the head, a piece big enough. He broke a piece to try out, but the other remained in his head causing an almost bled animal.

I held her hand with little strength le quedaba, me sujetó, quería odiarla, de hecho la odiaba, ¿por qué? Solo podía preguntarme porque había sido ahí la primera vez de nuestro encuentro, porqué nunca me atreví a llamar a su timbre, porqué nunca tuve el suficiente tiempo como para amarla y porqué ahora siendo feliz se iba. Unos segundos después ella moría para el mundo, dejó de sujetarme la mano, estaba helada, casi tanto como su acompañante a diario, la miré por última vez porque mis ojos tuvieron que cerrarse ante tal injustice. I cried, I did almost die with her, I cried, I did it for her to hear me from wherever I was and knew he was angry with her and the world.

His soul was, I still can not believe that tonight was his best night, I still can not believe I could not tell that I was dying to have her in my arms, I would have liked to talk to her one night and not leave until dawn, I would have liked to invite her to a pizza or having given a bouquet of flowers. It was hard to accept that ever would be in the back of his house playing with his brother and his dog barefoot, never to the corridors of the institute would smell it and it would be all the more horrible still, the five would no longer mean anything to her or me and I would liked to go out of his hand until Buqueers and buy a vanilla ice cream and strawberries, I would have liked to kiss her on the Wells Street park while wearing her red jersey he had made about his mother.

stain of his blood still warm, spotted her life surrounded by death, I had the strength to help demásy help. Parrish survived, only got a few bruises and was unconscious for a while. Which I was driving ran worse luck, because the front glass broke when was thrown against one of the cypress trees that were in the forest. The aid took some time in coming, I tried to reassure Parrish who was in a state of shock , looking askance at the inert figure of Emma, \u200b\u200bmy dear Emma.

Days after his funeral, I went to his parents, could not fail to thank the assistance. Cath was shattered, his bloodshot eyes brought out the bitter days of his life. His father only looked into the void, his daughter, the young lady to whom he gave advice and took to school every day, the girl of your life, your sweet and melo indicates girl does not speak more with him and would not run downstairs every time I travel again, excited to see that his father had finally arrived. His brother Brian, he could not utter a word, did not understand very well but was concerned to see their parents under these conditions.

everybody was there, every one who had formed part in his life. Parrish, one arm in plaster because of the impact, was there, standing motionless, not knowing what to say but really concerned, I noticed in his eyes, and was not the same, had been left with a piece of Emma's heart, without doubt, the best of them.

I was angry, just wanted to sit on his bed of eternal sleep a bouquet of purple tulips. A crumpled paper, a waste paper, yellow with the passage of time, wet, and later wrote a long time, I threw it with her forever. I wanted to leave record at the time how special it was for my life but sleep, I'm sure his soul will remain with me forever:

I look, especially when you're entertaining, only then I can do that does not matter. At this very moment, when my soul disturbed you, almost hypnotic, leaves me, goes into the color of your eyes, you walk your profile and, as an essence, it covers the ways of your body. Sunk in yet hidden secrets you discover to the world.

Nobody can see everything I see, because my soul just keeps the secret. Then in the dark with you, when it dawns fear for your absence, I like to remind you sit staring into space, while time and again I love you with the greatest of my silence, since the closer, but always between muted delight which revels in the more palatable flavors, is the life I chose for not being more than your shadow.

I turned around, looked up into the trees, just as the sun was in place and threw a kiss of love infinitely heartfelt, from the depths of me into the air that she had been breathing a few days. By the way, my name is Alex.

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REPORT IN PDF

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To ... by Mel Ferrer Silvia is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution- Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 Spain License .

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Gdl Driver Licence Ontario

Poem: SHE IS

I

Is she

exquisite daub

spreading

charms

between this sad existence.

.

She is effluvium

in airtight container

damaged.

.

She is eternal

the ephemeral Eden

quilts made between soiled.

.

is being absorbed

spying

between corners.

.

is Erato

singing these choruses

lost

in those times

equ & # 237; vocas.

.

is write elegies

entrusting

exist in it.

.

's her.

.

II

's her.

.

But

she is Heroin

evaporated

examina ; unanimous.

.

So

extinguish this letter

between explosions

power.

.

But

she is Heroin

evaporated

lifeless.

.

So

cut off success

havoc,

existing,

routing,

atoning

exodus in euthanasia.

.

's her.

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Poem written by Juan Manuel Rodriguez de Sousa.

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The image comes from the following blog The Sarah mirror

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is she by Juan Manuel Rodriguez de Sousa is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 Spain License.

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Does Ultra Clear Work

The Tower of Hercules and the minicuento: The last apple of the Hesperides.

This lighthouse wrote some time ago a minicuento, therefore, for you to understand everything around him this creation I put a little summary information on the wikipedia. Tower of Hercules

The Tower of Hercules is a lighthouse with a total height of 68 meters. It has the privilege of being the only Roman lighthouse and the oldest in the world works.

The tower lost possibly its marine during the Middle Ages to become a fortress. The current facade is the result of a remodeling completed in the neoclassical S. XVIII.

Era, before the reform neoclassical, a prismatic body with a square base, on the outside had a stone wall with two doors on the bottom and asymmetric windows that traveled to the upper floor, and a gnawing worm that reached the top. Kept inside the old structure Roman, but with wooden stairs belonged to the restoration of the building, aligning it in your decor with top frames of doors and windows.

Mythology says that "there was a giant named Geryon, king of Brigantium, which forced his súdbitos to give half his assets, including their children. One day the subjects decided to seek help from Geryon Hercules challenged in a big fight. Hercules defeated Geryon, he buried and raised a mound topped with a large torch. Near this tomb built a city and as the first person to arrive was a woman named Coruña, Hercules put the city its name>>

Now that you know more about this tower, I will articulate my mythological version, personal and summarized in a few words, have to say much with so minicuento perhaps a little harsh, but at least I guess I find it magical.

To not remember what happened to the Garden of the Hesperides you explain it: In this garden gave golden fruit trees providing immortality, the garden was owned by Gaia to Hera married Zeus and this gave it as a wedding gift. So no one stole the apples were the Hesperides and the dreaded dragon with a hundred heads, Ladon, who guarded him. The fact is that Hercules managed to steal the apples and then comes this version of history and Tower Hercules.

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BTW, I am among those who support the art that needs to be understood after a prior or subsequent explanation, but this time I invested my creative principles.

................................................ ........................................ The

minicuento could not exceed fifty words, including title. Here goes:

The last apple of the Hesperides

Yesterday, I hid the apples in the north. Gea warned me Heracles was eventually . The solution: plant a seed. He was born a tree and told me last night: What if Hera discovers ? His wrath burst. Today, besiege it under a blanket of stone.

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Click on Image for more information on the Application of the Tower of Hercules as a World Heritage Site.

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Letter Sample Church Services

Hans Christian Andersen, The Brave Tin Soldier

Good morning, good afternoon or good evening, depending on who is appropriate. Today I was reminded of one of my favorite writers, and magic and google I have found a video that has me excited is how well done, anything that I liked so much that I put it here so everyone can see it too.

below, including one of his stories more celebrities: The Brave Tin Soldier for those wishing to enter this magical world with his pen built Andersen. The video is Titirimundi. Greetings to all and enjoy.

THE TIN SOLDIER

was once a child ten & # 237; to many toys. He kept everyone in habitacióny during the day, spend hours happily playing with them. One of his favorite games was to make war with toy soldiers. Put them in front of each other, and was beginning to battle.

When gifts, realized that one of them was missing a leg due to a manufacturing defect. However, while playing, always placed in the front line soldier maimed in front of everyone, urging him to be the bravest.

But the boy did not know that their toys came alive at night and talked among themselves, and sometimes, neatly placing soldiers inadvertently got the maimed soldier among other toys. And so one day the soldier was able to meet a graceful dancer also lead. Together they established a simpatíay stream gradually, almost without realizing it, the soldier fell in love with her.

The nights were happening quickly, one after another, and the soldier was ever in love, no time to declare his love. When the child left in the middle of the other soldiers during a battle I longed for the dancer to realize their courage. At night, when she asked him if he had been frightened, he responded vehemently not. But the insistent gaze of the soldier and the sighs did not go unnoticed by the wicked that he was confined in a box of surprises. Each time, magically, the box abríaa midnight, an admonitory finger pointed to the poor soldier. Finally, one night, the mischievous exploded.

- Hey you, stop looking at the dancer! "The poor soldier blushed, but the dancer very gentle, comforted him

-Do not pay attention, is envious. I am very happy to talk to you.

And she said, blushing. Poor lead figurines, so timid, they did not dare to confess their love! But one day they were separated when the boy placed the soldier on the edge of a window.

- Stay here and watch you do not enter any enemy, because even if you cripple it can do sentry!

The child was then placed to the other soldiers on a table to play. The days passed and the soldier was not released from his guard post. One afternoon a storm broke out suddenly, and a strong wind shook the window, hitting the lead figurine rushed into the vacuum. Falling from the ledge with his head down, the rifle bayonet stuck in the ground. The wind and the rain persisted. A storm indeed! Water jugs falling soon formed large pools and small streams that escaped through the sewers. A cloud of boys waiting for the rain subsided, sheltered in the doorway of a nearby school. When the rain stopped, threw running towards their homes, avoid putting your feet in the larger pools. Two boys took refuge from the last drops that dripped from the roofs, walking very attached to the walls of buildings. That was how they saw the tin soldier stuck in the ground, dripping water.

- Too bad you have one leg! If not, I would have taken home, "said one.

-Cojámoslo also to serve something, "said the other, and put it in a pocket. Across the street down a stream, which carried a paper boat that got there no one knows how.

- Put it up and look like sailor! Said little that had gathered.

's how the soldier became a sailor. The creek water was spiraling down the drain that swallowed swallowed also because of the little boat. In the underground canal the turbid water level was high. Huge rats, whose teeth chattered, saw them passed before the strange sailor of the boat capsizing on top.

But what is needed more than a miserable rat scare, he had destroyed so many dangers in his battles! The sewage flowed into the river, and until he arrived at the boat that capsized end hopelessly driven by turbulent eddies. After the wreck, the soldier thought his end was near sinking into the depths of water. Thousands of thoughts crossed his mind then, but mostly it was an anguish more than any other: it was not to see again his dancing .. .

Suddenly a huge mouth swallowed him to change his destiny. The soldier was found in the dark belly of a huge bird, that greedily pounced upon him attracted by the bright colors of his uniform. However, Bird did not have time indigestion with such a heavy meal, since it was lit in a little while on the network that a fisherman was lying on the River. Ended shortly after dying in a cart along with other birds as bad as him. It turns out that the cook of the house which had been the soldier, came to the market to buy fish.

"This issue seems appropriate for the guests tonight "Said the woman watching the fish exposed over a counter. The bird ended up in the kitchen when the cook opened for cleaning, he found the soldier caught with their hands.

- But if one of the soldiers ...! He shouted, and went for the child to tell where and how he had found his lead soldier who was missing a leg.

- Yes, it's mine! "Cried the child joyfully recognizing the soldier maimed he had lost.

- Who knows how he got into the belly of this bird! Poor thing, how many adventures have happened since he fell from the window!

and placed it on the mantelpiece where his sister had placed the dancer. A miracle had reunited the two lovers. Happy to be together again, overnight is recounted what had happened since their separation. But the fate reserved for them other malicious surprise: a squall lifted the curtain of the window, hitting the dancer, she fell into the fire. The tin soldier, scared, saw his companion fall. I knew the fire was on because I felt its heat. Desperate, he was powerless to save her. What a great enemy is the fire that can melt some lead figurines like us! Swinging with his one leg, tried to move the pedestal that held it. After strenuous efforts, at last, fell into the fire. Joined this time by misfortune, again to be close to each other, so close that the lead of their small bases, licked by flames, began to melt. Lead one of the base is mixed with the other, and surprisingly acquired metal heart-shaped. I was about to merge their bodies, when there happened to pass by the child. To see the two statues from the flames, his foot pushed away from fire. Since then, the soldier and the ballerina were always together, as fate had brought them together: over a single heart-shaped base.

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The first picture I've got a funny blog. I will now address: PAPER MINIATURES

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ALL FOR THE ARTS (III) The three questions

Here I leave the first and second part of the lost article.

1) First part of article:

2) Second part of article: _______________________________________________________________

THE THREE QUESTIONS

does the writer's duty or the right to write what you like ?

Yes, it has the right and duty to write what I want and how you want. It may sound selfish, hard and cynical at the same time. But writing is an example of the life and art, we can not run her over with the real world, keep evolving. Here

morality comes and the writer, his wit, his creativity, his honesty not so much as a person but as an artist. For example, a story that seriously affect someone must be treated in a special way, the writer is committed to at least try to hide the identity. As we said before it may be impossible, but at least I tried. Now, when it condemned the act of stripping privacy?

only be immoral when a story is not hiding these characters, but also help in their identification with the sole intention of reaching a num greater number sales, or is the product of a creative capacity zero. In these cases, regardless of the intent with which the work is made, if it is a gift to the world of an artist, or is pure merchandise for sale and public morbo . Also relates to an artist's creative principle, a kind of necessity, while fun, is a push existentialist who helps to walk through around an imaginary world. Clearly, a person discovering "blatantly" their characters will not be so interested in expressing and walk this path as simple line the pockets of tickets, or feel recognized by the public to feel what they call "fame."

Perhaps, in the final three phases and three questions that can help discern on this topic can also be arranged chronologically on the creative process: Is honest the creative principle of the artist? Is it important, meaningful to the author that what is going to speak is a simple story or morbid? Are pages that deserve to be read by its artistic quality?

And the three questions stay there, for those who play with fiction, for that penetrate it. Writers, readers are, but often we cheated, discovered, will not rest in our stubbornness to distinguish the wheat from the chaff, because we must not confuse freedom with creative license. And they told me when I studied in school, when looked at as shrews poetry in high school or when I aburríay fascinated at the same time the power classes.

FIN. _____________________________________________________________

article

Juan Manuel Rodríguez de Sousa

_____________________________________________________________

Here I leave the first and second part of the lost article.

First part of article:

Second part of article: _____________________________________________________________

Karnaugh Map Tex Capacity Exceeded

Manifesto for the story

MANIFESTO FOR THE STORY (open letter to all journals)

What prompted the story as a new literary genre had had two spectacular first appearance in the nineteenth century and later in the twentieth? Interestingly the answer is the same: the publication of the journals and stories diarios.Los modern newspapers are born first and then become the recopilan.Poe books, Chekhov, London wrote their stories to newspapers. Carver, Cheever, Fante, Bukowski, and the generation of dirty realism American mid-twentieth century, put forward their publications with stories in newspapers. The new generation of American rootlessness and fanzines published in local newspapers, some as large-circulation national, even before presenting his first book of stories. What the hell happens in Spain with the story? "No newspaper is capable of releasing a column for accommodate a modern tale? You about giving opportunities to strangers, but faithfully storytellers, not to provide a column as established writers who publish cutting story a hint of novel.The story is a narrative genre more, perhaps the most complex in its development despite its apparent simplicity, which requires excellent technique watchmaker to make the reader emerges deseado.El effect is short story by definition, and very intense, and the good story is a before and after in the mind of the reader who has felt like an earthquake under their pies.El story explodes in the head, nestled in the soul and teaches us to see life from another story perspectiva.El breath hold three local stations and several subway, reader travel, yes, but not in the vagón.El tale genre is more consistent with the hurried and crazy world today. And it is for two reasons: 1. Its minimalism inherent and 2. Stored inside a bomb intelectual.Demos a chance cuento.Cada storytellers year joined the movement. Much has to do with this creative writing schools and workshops have multiplied a hundredfold in the last step tiempos.El story as nothing to the novel is not simply an exercise in preparation. Many of the modern short story writers are aware that they have found in his short story away.The story, good story, is a reto.Los storytellers are themselves stories eaters, engulf and swallow stories with the hope of discovering a new way of carving this "diamond in the rough that is the idea prior to composición.Demos an opportunity to the story.

Esteban Gutiérrez Gómez. Storyteller.

http://ellaberintodenoe.blogspot.com/

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ALL FOR ART (II) DUTIES AND RIGHTS

Here comes the second part of these reflections, I leave the link of the first for those who have arrived late.

PART OF ARTICLE

ALL FOR ART (II) DUTIES AND RIGHTS

But what about when it is impossible to conceive?

There are several ways that an author can not hide, remove the person's character, the place of the imaginary world, and that any attempt to hide someone or something falls on the futility. Telling a story of great fame it would be very difficult, these works are often subjected to numerous studies that reveal, however clever it is the writer, the identity of the characters. The very inability of a writer is a factor taken into account, as well as the economic intent. Finally, the phone would be on the simple desire to hurt emotionally.

However, would be unproductive to dwell on how or why he has plundered the privacy of a person, and that after all the result is always the same: the identity is discovered. The question would then be the following: Do we have the right writers tell stories of others?

Here comes the storm of ideas that emerged during the late summer, philosophizing on full entry of a global financial crisis, the responses are shown, multiple, nuanced, as twins who change their minds as clothing of lead each time.

is the "dependent" of each situation and by this token, many solutions will grow as written accounts (and those yet to write ) and this is quiz & # 225; s the only answer to the dilemma, every situation is different . Is not the same writing a story about a friend who only reach identify their circle of friends, to write, for example, a story of a public that achieves impact (negatively or positively) in a wider social circle. There are so many possibilities, so many looks, and so the words will never know the absolute truth of what is written, what happened and what was said: So is it a story appropriate moral persons?

A companion set a good example: because a painter can sit on a stool in front of a painting the more I jardíny ; minimum detail without fear of being accused of opportunism and short of ideas? Of course there have been-and there-repression in this profession, but has never become as strong as in the case of writers.

Ultimately, almost always return to the same question : Does the writer's duty or the right to write what you want? Continued

: ALL FOR THE ARTS (III) THE THREE QUESTIONS ---------------------------

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article

---------- Juan Manuel Rodriguez de Sousa

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