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A grandparent at home is a source of wisdom. I have that luck, also my family, the fact is they are two, grandmother and grandfather, very old and already own them.
The grandfather, with almost ninety years, well now keeps his memories. He was blind, unfortunately, but his eyes lives in time. The grandmother does not talk much and you hear little but their eyes they remember everything.
This afternoon, sitting near them, was ready to dive into the novel that keeps me busy lately. Oblivious to this, the grandfather came to me ... where we left the conversation the other day?
Indeed, one afternoon, while walking, he asked me about the grandfather of a coworker. Is that she was curious to know what in your house never told openly.
A simple story that goes like this ....

John was a young farmer who lived in a remote farmhouse in the village. After a hard day of work, under a relentless sun, he was eager and excited about going to the village fair. In that spent all day thinking. He liked a girl and hoped to see her walking the streets decked out in flags and lanterns.

dreamed her to appear with her new dress and her curly hair in the wind. bathed in the water the basin where about cows ... then suitably perfumed. He dressed in simple clothes, a white shirt and black pants only. Swift was ordered to chase the sun in decline ... and the freshness of the dusk, came to town.
The cobbled streets greeted him at the same time as the rockets and the din of celebration.
In the plaza, the band encouraged a verbena where kids jumped with retirement slab joy. The small groups of girls were beginning to appear and the waiters and the nervous waiting.
Until Mary turned the corner with two of her friends caught in the "arm in arm," John is not off the wall where it remained supportive. those years -20's of last century- was common for couples who first gave to the dance f orm two women. Mary was with her friends, alternating with two in the usual pasodobles.
That night, John dared to ask him to dance with him. She accepted without hesitation.
After intermission the orchestra gave the customary stroll down the main street and were given conversation.
With their meager savings, John invited Mary to lupins and ride the Ferris wheel.
Since he's happy and flattered notice did not hesitate to go one step further and asked to be her lover. The very innocent had not realized that, more than a conqueror, had been conquered, because Mary had long had his eye.
The next day John was waiting at the door of his alleged to have finally decided to leave. Finished fair, John continued to come to appointments on Sundays. A month father later formally requested permission to ennoviarse with her daughter.
A simple wedding after little more than a year of dating, was the beginning of their life together. In a few years had three boys and a girl.
John was a gardener exemplary, but not enough so that the garden gave him to support his family. Mary sold the vegetables in a small shop and John was looking at the markets of neighboring towns other products that he could not cultivate. And so with strictures, were raising their children.
Mary became pregnant again. Twins were born a miscarriage and Mary sick ... a few days,

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in the living room of reality

By Antonio Avendaño

In the most like a guy who kills his wife is a suicide bomber . Therefore it is very difficult to avoid the time their crimes were committed in the streets in front or comment on Iraq: because its only purpose is to kill . Do not kill and escape the police. Do not kill and keep the children. Do not kill and collect life insurance. It is true that the people here are very precise killing their wives, but almost always fail when they go against themselves, it appears that, as they have nothing personal against themselves, struggle to commit suicide. Commit suicide, yes, but committed suicide shortly and, especially, later committed suicide. As the brutal Islamic terrorists operating blinded by blind faith and brutal, murderers act blinded by a home Reverse sort of faith that eats away inside a black fire fed by the unbearable freedom of women. As at the title of Margaret Atwood, murderers are blind.
What to do? For what we already do, which is what can we afford to do. Make laws, to police officers, train judges, prosecutors train, create courts, convict offenders, consoling families, or rather what remains of them. But even with all that, we know that this war will be long and bloody as are all wars in which freedom is at stake, as are all uncertain wars fought against murderers blind. Policies against them are a test against blindness, but also they themselves are in turn a blind policies. We're not sure that they will work, it is true, but the only thing that comes to mind.

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Warehouse Engineer Sosa Drivers prevents a train with 200 passengers from falling off a cliff (1956)

March 11, 1956
The train coming from Bariloche to Patagones Constitution leaves in the midst of a torrential rain, with more than two hundred passengers on board. At 19.10, Abel Sosa, drivers of Ingeniero White, and the fireman, Nicholas Cerone see that, at the height of Cardinal Cagliero, standing in the middle of the track, two men beckon, desperate, waving his arms and shirt at the tip the barrel of a gun. Cerone Sosa and understand that something happens and you manage to stop the train.

Passengers, meanwhile, ignores what happens: Sosa and Cerone, accompanied by two men, Gumersindo Mazziotti Aira and Marcelo (who were waiting there since 3 pm), walk ways and a few meters ahead are something amazing: the way in the air, on the precipice of 3 meters high, undermined the embankment along 50 pouring water meters. That
vizcachas hunter and the peasant who was out there I just saved your life.

( News read in several newspaper clippings that gave her daughter to Pedro Sosa and he brought yesterday to close the museum)

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Growth is also re-learn, or remember what they learned and forgotten.

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Wild Asparagus

A day in the field can go a long way.
to be brought home a free ...¡¡ delicacy! Gift of nature.
addition, the times to gain a dinner is always welcome. Years ago, asparagus away hungry. And not only these stems, young shoots of asparagus, also thistles, palm hearts, leek, strawberries, figs, figs, pears, capers, ...
is that on Saturday I went to the field and as the land was too do wet by the continuous rains, I looked for asparagus;
wild asparagus, greens and disenchanting, delicious to cook in a thousand ways. The most common, omelette, in upset, or an oil-based sauce, garlic, lemon and bread crumbs, "Majadilla" we say here.

With half of those who could catch, we made this tortilla. The other half is giving away. .. It was delicious!
Since childhood I have seen country people always took advantage of what is good in him. My grandmother said: "In the years of famine - and subsequent fratricidal civil war-
each station had its fruits." Asparagus When winter takes out his cloak and the rain has stopped land juicy. This year has been the wettest I can remember, for that abound in the terr enos less cultivated, wild and inhospitable.
Those years of misery after the war made the people suffer. People are dying of not getting needed sick children and the elderly aged rapidly. I have very much
sepia photographs of emaciated men, deep-set eyes, thinned by malnutrition children and women without curves under clothes.
In some asparagus or some thistles became a soup boiled with a little oil, and garlic bread. They were so grateful these soups to admit any other ingredient.
Today it is common at the dawn of spring, people take to the field to find the desired asparagus. This activity is similar to the search for mushrooms, with the disadvantage that their hands were needed to "scratch" with thin spikes that adorn and protect the asparagus.
Now I leave here to make a music event disappeared ... Asparagus rock from Granada .... Gait outdoors, with repeat offenders.

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touch your mouth, by Julio Cortazar (Argentina, 1914-1984)


touch your mouth with a finger touch the edge of your mouth, I draw as if out of my hand, as if for the first time your mouth opened a little, and I just close my eyes to undo it and I create every time I want to mouth, mouth to my hand chooses and sketches on the face, a mouth chosen among all, with sovereign freedom of choice for me to draw with my hand on your face, and that by some chance that seek not to understand, coincides exactly with your mouth that smiles beneath my hand that you draw.

look at me, at me closely, more closely, and then we play the Cyclops, every time we looked more closely and eyes get larger, they approach each other, overlap and the cyclops look, breathing confusion , mouths and struggle in gentle warmth, biting his lips, barely holding their tongues on their teeth, playing in corners where a heavy air comes and goes with old perfume and a silence. Then my hands go hide in your hair, slowly stroke the depth of your hair while we kiss as if our mouths were full of flowers or fish, with lively movements and dark fragrance. And if we bite, the pain is sweet, and if we are drowning in a brief and terrible surge of breath, that instant death is beautiful. And there is one hard and one flavor of ripe fruit, and I feel you tremble against me like a moon on the water.

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Pedro and his friends from Villa Regina, by Marina

This photo was taken on 22 September 2008, when he walked by Ferrowhite Magalí, John and Maureen, and Marina, who took the photo. They are from Villa Regina, except Mauro (which is Necochea) and studied in Bahia (except John, who studied architecture in Córdoba).

Apparently, Peter told them many things, other, who was in the valley, and played football and went to Regina to play Athletic Club or the Circle Italian Regina.

File unfolds in stories that come and go.