Monday, January 28, 2008
Is Pink Cervical Mucus Normal Before Period
ROSENDO SANTANDER "THE Cachiri" (POR RODRIGUEZ JAIME KING). BRUNO Mazzoldi READ
Mazzoldi, Bruno. "From Cachirí of Pukllay and how Momo López Álvarez disguised." In: http://www.eldespertador.info/despierta/textdesper/karaokederrida.htm
"Almost in front of the Interior, on the back wall of the café Cancun, right out of the toilet, ma non troppo is displayed a painting signed Jaime Rodriguez Rey. The owner, instead of selling red, aromatic and quimbolitos prefer to spend the day sewing and tearing at one of two pigs Assyrians perpetual lying at the main entrance Bomboná market, Blanche, I was forbidden to photograph the painting and threatened to call the police when I came to ask for permission, because the man in the street light in painting, in view of the customer who has just relieved his belly, not just any drunk, but the legendary champion of all the drunkenness, the Cachirí. And "you do not know." Where does it lie? "Over, around, under or through the platform of the powder milled for 6 January? Lapped by the waves of white poncho black and yellow lines crossed grid (worth carefully painted the fingernails of a ledger, in dizzy but thorough contrast to the blackness of the soft vortex folds of the trousers), Cachirí hand (which is far from being broken your neck, no Despite the testimony of borsalino run and dented despite the statement stamped by the watermelon rind at the foot of the shoe) is not limited to not drop the bottle of brandy. Not limited. "
Mazzoldi, Bruno. "From Cachirí of Pukllay and how Momo López Álvarez disguised." In: http://www.eldespertador.info/despierta/textdesper/karaokederrida.htm
Photo: Andres Torres Guerrero.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Monday, January 14, 2008
Romantic Anniversary, Tampa, Fl
GUERRERO TORRES LUIS FELIPE DE LA ROSA. WITH STREET RACING 24 16. Pasto
In this house lived and died the poet Luis Felipe de la Rosa (Pasto, September 19, 1887 - Pasto, January 17, 1944).
RED BUSH
Caravan of pain!, taciturn swallows arribáis
that the rocks of marine margins
with the wing torn by polar Abrego!:
If you passed through the town that drew Lorenzo Aldana
under the sky preciousness of American soil,
what word received in the wall of my home?
One evening, blurred, of quiet new moon, and hidden
anathema to weigh in my misfortune,
got lost in the wilds of the crude ban ...
Since then, birds trembling, soul, come
since hearing about the incessant wailing brass,
hard ... Deaf ... slow ... long ...! pantheon are prayers!
I too, like you, weary adventurer
walking around the world Ahservero chlorosis,
I trembled ... and have suffered what no tongue will tell. In the barbaric
sands of my life path no thistle
who does not know my plant sore! ... Companions
migrants, where is our fate?
If you passed in my town, a summer evening
if sleeping in the tower of the Franciscan church, street
if my breath when a prowler moan;
if we feel the sweetness of the goldfinch in the caper,
if a Cantigas listen, to the tune of a guitar,
what brought your wings to the dull rhymer?
And what you saw in the backyard of my old house shady?
Greening "still with the pleasant rose hips,
orange, that my mother cultivated with zeal?
Do you sing even in the fragrant branches "Curillo"
in the quiet of another time I taught the flute? ... Fronds
, dyes, poultry, fruit, my eyes will not see!
bohemian years Oh my ...! Cloudy insane time! Adored
that pupae bewitched my money!
bartender who gave me sour juice into your spirit! ... Caro
Valley Galeras, extended in my grief,
sweet earth, you looked my night owl figure, despised and dejected
under the beam of a lantern! ...
Who could this day go
feeling burnt horizons as the eagle and the wind! Who could
instantly return to the motherland!
Golondrinas, distance, the darkness of absence, the chances
, injustice, the meanness of life, whether to suffer
have molded me, lead me not to forget! Fresh
boxes lie in the vault
hide in here ... a very dark, very ugly, very deep, offal
I have left a trail of terror ...
I kiss them tenderly, the coat with my roses and my lilac
, garlanded with your tiles
my moss and shadows brightened my love lamp.
When the tedium of the hours in my room I was imprisoned;
when the face of my mother in the temple is revealed to me;
when my silent screams terrible adversity
whenever I look into the far limit
and I'm speechless at the ocean beach,
with the tulle of my orphan shrouded memories ... Caravan
pain! Swallow taciturn partis
that the rocks on the banks
Marine deployed with the combat wing of the cyclone;
if pasarais by the cycle of Colombian land,
visit my old wall ... and spread on the window
these verses, these verses, which I found in my heart.
that the rocks of marine margins
with the wing torn by polar Abrego!:
If you passed through the town that drew Lorenzo Aldana
under the sky preciousness of American soil,
what word received in the wall of my home?
One evening, blurred, of quiet new moon, and hidden
anathema to weigh in my misfortune,
got lost in the wilds of the crude ban ...
Since then, birds trembling, soul, come
since hearing about the incessant wailing brass,
hard ... Deaf ... slow ... long ...! pantheon are prayers!
I too, like you, weary adventurer
walking around the world Ahservero chlorosis,
I trembled ... and have suffered what no tongue will tell. In the barbaric
sands of my life path no thistle
who does not know my plant sore! ... Companions
migrants, where is our fate?
If you passed in my town, a summer evening
if sleeping in the tower of the Franciscan church, street
if my breath when a prowler moan;
if we feel the sweetness of the goldfinch in the caper,
if a Cantigas listen, to the tune of a guitar,
what brought your wings to the dull rhymer?
And what you saw in the backyard of my old house shady?
Greening "still with the pleasant rose hips,
orange, that my mother cultivated with zeal?
Do you sing even in the fragrant branches "Curillo"
in the quiet of another time I taught the flute? ... Fronds
, dyes, poultry, fruit, my eyes will not see!
bohemian years Oh my ...! Cloudy insane time! Adored
that pupae bewitched my money!
bartender who gave me sour juice into your spirit! ... Caro
Valley Galeras, extended in my grief,
sweet earth, you looked my night owl figure, despised and dejected
under the beam of a lantern! ...
Who could this day go
feeling burnt horizons as the eagle and the wind! Who could
instantly return to the motherland!
Golondrinas, distance, the darkness of absence, the chances
, injustice, the meanness of life, whether to suffer
have molded me, lead me not to forget! Fresh
boxes lie in the vault
hide in here ... a very dark, very ugly, very deep, offal
I have left a trail of terror ...
I kiss them tenderly, the coat with my roses and my lilac
, garlanded with your tiles
my moss and shadows brightened my love lamp.
When the tedium of the hours in my room I was imprisoned;
when the face of my mother in the temple is revealed to me;
when my silent screams terrible adversity
whenever I look into the far limit
and I'm speechless at the ocean beach,
with the tulle of my orphan shrouded memories ... Caravan
pain! Swallow taciturn partis
that the rocks on the banks
Marine deployed with the combat wing of the cyclone;
if pasarais by the cycle of Colombian land,
visit my old wall ... and spread on the window
these verses, these verses, which I found in my heart.
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