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A flying feather ... Sol y Luna


"When there is nothing in here, when nothing can be counted, get carried away. ... "

Automatic writing is a double-edged sword. It serves to bring that inspiration arises spontaneously, but runs the risk of writing to write, and ultimately, to say nothing. Today there

general strike in the country. I thought it was a pantomime and I thought nothing. Maybe served relief and shame many others. What matters is what will happen tomorrow. Everything will more or less the same, where a few continue driving at will and will not allow to cede any post to get it to keep their "status privilegiatus."

could take refuge in my memory. Those of children every day I have more vividly. They say it is a symptom of declining staff, already going downhill towards the inevitable old age. Anyway, I still feel young, but when it really was not repaired in childhood adventures, indeed I felt as if there had been a boy ever.

Days pass like everyone else, with an inevitable rise and decline of the sun, a dark night of artificial lights and lost people wandering road to nowhere.
Meanwhile, one falls asleep and wakes up more than a few hours later. Go to a place where usually spend one third of the working day. If you are lucky enough to do it with pleasure, that desire, but if something like a punishment, get lost how long before there, because you end up in one way or another.

An activity that relaxes me is to pick olives. Pick them up the tree, of course, eating the dish , too.
The fingers move us closer than we can imagine to life. For this sensitivity we know what we do well and what harms us. These olives and apples, pulling a yellow green, smooth and soft to catch them and uproot the tree, his energy through me. Comes from the depths of the earth and is released by the living body of the plant.
The tree is not given easily. Treated with care and delicacy, is left to do, but before an attack, however small, will return the same answer.

always a song will haunt me when I write. Victor Manuel sang it at a time when democracy was not yet a reality in Spain. Regardless of political views, the peaceful ideals are indisputable.

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A photo, Ms. Roig and date of founding of White

This photo is the bachelor party Orlando Conte and Anna Mazzella who married at the home of a schoolteacher, Teresa Mazzone, with the group Alumni Center School 15. On the left is
Roich Ana, who was the director of the school, died last year at age 98 in Buenos Aires. This lady was the one who initiated efforts to engineer White has its foundation date. In 63 this lady and White building society made efforts in the direction of provincial culture, and so the provincial government decided to set the date of 26 September 1885, when it opened Dock Sud Rail Iron On September 26, 1963 was celebrated the first anniversary with a monolith and a plaque that read: "homage to the first settlers and fudndores eng. White, 26/09/1963 "


But then, this date ... if one starts to spin finer, but is older than White Bahia Blanca. If not, where do I get the schooner Louisa, when they brought the materials to make the fortress? What about when the railroad brought the materials? Means that already had spring, and had people, people living, fishermen, the same locomotive shed and the workshop was inaugurated in 1885, so all these people and lived in White long before ...

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summer.

agosteña afternoon has left the streets deserted. Sun is merciless, completely seizing it. People avoid going out and takes shelter in the artificial fresh from their homes.
With the demise of King Street awake, revive again. Slowly stretches the body, stretch your legs and open the doors.
In town, there seems to be children. The street does not jump for joy, laughter and games. Most households seem canned fancy pockets .., drivers who play alone, screens that show the world with a mouse, stupid boxes that do not get tired of being all day on.

Children who were in those summers that were not afraid of the sun and heat of the pavement. Go to the source water was supposed to a refreshing exercise. Also, when you press the "stalled" because there are fewer people in the late afternoon.

The boy climbed up the street with a water pitcher knew he could not go and play until they bring at least three of those vessels.

The source is a cacophony of laughter, as Antonia, the most vain of the neighbors, had sprawled to the source. The urchins always spilled some water on the floor and in the stones of the street, it was easy to slip. Because they all said Antonia did not rise from the ground. A giggling prevented him back together. Her dress skirts above the waist and legs looked plump hams which hung out to dry. Children do not kept their eyes on this woman, as it showed up pudenda thigh.
his turn came, filled her jar, covered it carefully and threw it over his shoulder. After crossing the square, cast down the street. Now the damn stoned you played a trick on him, as he stepped wrong. Failed to maintain the balance of the pot, breaking it to pieces. With the handle in his hand he complained bitterly, but not enough to mourn, just a few pots made between sobs, while the spilled water was lost between the stones of the street.

"Mom, is the pitcher Quebrao m'a - Managed to articulate between sobs.
- What t'as Jech, my son?
-Na, Mom, but we have no pot to the grandfather.

"It does not matter, and buy another, trying to comfort him well, but his face could not hide his little conviction.

Shortly after returning to mount the street, but now almost dragging buckets of zinc in each hand. Now do not break, but get wet feet with the vagaries of the water.

As a soundtrack perennial discs dedicated radio program, sounded every evening in the white street facades. This song never failed ... "To the prettiest girl in his tita that both want"

still very hot in August people. A few young men are dragging their feet on rubber sandals. Go to the swimming pool and carry on their bare backs towels, also trailing almost to the ground. Another afternoon with the dumbest little friends will drink his cola and chewed nth the same flavor of gum.
speak little words and chewing gum, and complain of having parents as boring as they are, they are not able to release your attachment to the TV or the internet and bring them into concert megachulo, a hundred miles away, gives the group Music will now cool.

The sun came up the front facade. In the kitchen stands a ar oma to freshly brewed coffee. The pastor and his son, acting as a shepherd boy who learns, prepare the bag: A large bread, cheese, a quince pudding and meat wrapped in brown paper. Do not put any fruit, for in the field will find its natural figs pantry. From shoulders also hang their canteens, sling bag and secure it to the knotty stick acebuche they will support and defense in the dark and diffuse long night.
When down the street, the pastor and his son, talk with neighbors and they say goodbye until the next morning. The night with its moon for them, and the sheep in the flock to graze await. Hauled all day under the shade of a small tree, is paralyzed, close together, giving comfort and encouragement to support animal life as such.
When the pastor gives long, the sheep see heaven opened, running in a pack after the "little bird" to his coveted grass.
The lad holding up herding to sticking a bite, his father dis f route to seeing. He is proud that his son inherited his passion livestock, but so is of another son who stayed home tutoring other students. That, perhaps one day be a teacher.
Night falls in the pasture and livestock will not stop giving snacks straight ... the past pray monitor it closely, while a plump moon looks like cheese by between cerros.Se silenced the cowbells and the shepherd boy snuggles with "chapon" father. It has stayed in the shelter of the olive tree that dominates the stubble alone

al. The pastor left a canteen next to the body of the child and goes in pursuit of the herd that has risen again.
A tin rattle over the stones and soil warns that the child has awakened and, following the sound of the bells, taken back in with his father.

The sun rises and shepherds his company back into the fold. Sheep met their fill, chew the food safe from the others.

up the street, in the first houses, may be heard this song ... The black curly girl who sweeps the street, absorbed in her letter, give a start to notice being surprised by the shepherds.

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Scraps of reality 14

"We should never make excuses and say that our enemies from participating in the calm, and that this is the cause of our irritation. If we are patient, we are not practicing with sincerity. We can not say that the beggar is an obstacle to generosity, and that is precisely its raison d'etre. On the other hand, people who irritate us and test our patience are relatively few. And we need people who offend us to exercise patience. Finding a real enemy is so rare we should rejoice to see and appreciate the benefits it gives. Deserves to be the first person offer the merits that he will allow us to acquire, and is worthy of respect simply because allowing us to practice patience. " (Dalai Lama)

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The secret of storytelling. Witches

By Gustavo Martín Garzo. (El País, December 24, 2007)

Shakespeare said love is too young to be aware , and so the language should be taken from the dreams, too young to know what he says. All stories are about love, it's charm, attention, vigilance ... And above all, joy. Make possible what seems not, reset the realm of possibility, that's what I mean by joy. And that joy is in all great stories, and therefore logical that we want children to read. And the best thing to do is lead by example. That is, make reading and books to become as natural and enjoyable for them and see his mother making a cake.
The ultimate reason why we tell a child a story is looking for happiness . I do not think there is a reason to tell it more weight. There are others: to teach them to be generous, to love nature and animals, to trust those who want, to not be afraid. But the essential thing is that makes them happy to hear it. If not, what are the tell? It's like cooking some dishes for them. We do it because they need food, but the world cakes, chocolate cakes, fried milk custard and belongs to what used to be called the world of soul. And the soul is the least predictable doctrinal and man, he loves to live without whys. Borges said that writing for children can be contaminated with childishness, and it is true. But the fact remains that the problem is not with the risks involved but on how they manage to save . Also, what is being childish? We puerile when we play with a toddler or when we walk with a dog. We puerile when we love someone, when we managed to go to a party or dance, and we definitely when we get older. I would even say that Reading is a childish act, and that puts us in the world of unreality. In that case, why would be bad? The childishness is not confused with the childishness. We have real lives, but we fell in love with unreal lives.
In a way the desire for beauty is also childish. Not enough, for example, that the books' worth, we also like to be beautiful, to brighten our lives. And know this book publishers. It is important that children see what they are, works like a wonderful chest, a lamp that hides a genius or a flying carpet ... All these objects, as happens to the books, have a dual nature. Are both common objects that are part of our daily life, a lamp, a rug, a trunk, but at the same time, are doors, places of transit. In a way, all the great books have something sacred. And that character is precisely its power to link worlds were separate: the world of the living and the dead, the adults and children, of men and animals ... And is the soul, our soul, who made those trips. We could say that true stories are the ones who hold the memories of those adventures of the soul. The Emperor Hadrian was a guest let capricious. We tell stories for that "sweet little soul wandering" continue with us in the world. Or rather, the stories are proof of that is here with us. When the world ceases to tell us things is because our guest is gone ...

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Pedro (Fontana Reyes) in the butt

After many hours of transmission by speaker of the Italian Society in White and the Commercial Club, super after fonoplatea in which she wore Ferrowhite in and 2008 2009 , Pedro came to the radio!!

Peter was invited by the program "Urban Game," which is broadcast on FM Palihue, 9 am to 13 pm to discuss his experience as a rail, his opinion on the railways present and other of his life.

Pictured with Ludmila Brzozowski Pedro, Pablo Romero, Cristian and Marcelo Lema Panero

Fontana
Pedro Reyes also gave great pleasure to leave (for real this time!) into the air: "We finished the drive with the cordial and friendly voice of Peter Fontana Reyes. Have you a very good afternoon."