Tuesday, January 25, 2011

All Combinations Calculator

New story and a new poem for this week

An old acquaintance in the story this week Argentine Professor Fabian Vique Language and Literature, with several books of short stories and micro-stories to his credit. On this occasion one entitled Too generous, a beautiful text, a compelling story and a yacht where all we ever sailed. On the other hand, for the first time in this section of our blog, a Colombian poet, Maruja Vieira, professor and journalist who has devoted his life to literature with a poem entitled always . As always, we hope that you like.

Too much generosity
Fabian Vique


I put the flower that gave me a book of yours. I forgot the book I gave to your library. I kept the library gave me on his yacht. Docking the yacht who offered me their island. The island that gave me you found your place in the world. I chose a galaxy and there I placed the world gave me. I set the galaxy that gave me a corner of the universe. Carefully place the universe gave me the chalice of a flower. I gave the flower withered.


always
Maruja Vieira

always
come back.
no time for you and has dark
land boundaries.
always come back.
And I'm always here, waiting for your hands, full of dreams
rain as a tree.
There is nothing different. Everything is equal and pure
when you return.
have not spent the days or suffer. I am alone,
with a clean heart and a new font. I have
again
words and ways and you return the breeze and the stars. Return
bells and birds,
me back the music, the murmur of rivers
distant
clarity of the mountain,
the perfect truth that I love you.


Sunday, January 16, 2011

Popcorn Butter Clothes

Activities at the center on Christmas Eve Day

During the first half of December at the Institute organized a campaign to collect food for the needy in which many students and other members of our school community. In the center received the congratulations of CARITAS and appreciation for the cooperation of all participants:




On December 22 at the institute celebrated Christmas a day with various sporting and musical activities with strong participation of school pupils:


Where Can I Find A Oversized Plastic Cup

over the Sahara in our institute

In December last year the center will organize a conference on the Sahara, with different activities such as lectures, exhibitions and the installation of a tent all groups visiting the center:


If you want to know more about the Western Sahara conflict, click on the image:

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Does La La Where A Weave?

The first story and the poem of this year

We continue
section Each week a story and a poem with two old acquaintances: Antonio Serrano Cueto, with an excellent short story called The fishmonger. We have to say that during the dates of Christmas this author made a comment on our blog, where he arrived by chance to publish his story thanking Internet Ghosts . On the other hand of an author in Madrid, Amalia Bautista, of which we have published several poems in this section, we present a beautiful entitled Darkness. Let's hope once again that you really like.


The fishmonger
Antonio Serrano Cueto

Scale
all positions of the fish have their line of customers (loyal to one, by the way the others) but one. Even more scale in the post fill a woman of extraordinary beauty, which entertains the expected sharpening knives with a smile wide. It is striking to see clients who wander away from the market, drawing a curve, when they pass in front of his display of marble. Perhaps fear a sudden and poignant reverie, though it is just to clarify in its defense that the fishmonger is a paragon of kindness and sympathy and it is not conceivable even a hint of sadism. Of course, when you open the freezer and allowed to see the head, on the whole market turns cold air and breathe.



Darkness
beautiful Amalia Bautista

Last night I've played and I have felt
without my hand fled beyond my hand,
fled without my body or my ear,
almost human in a way I have felt
. Pulsating
,
not know if as blood or tag
wandering
by my house on tiptoe, darkness goes up, darkness
low, run, sparkling.
run for my wooden house
windows opened and I felt you beat the entire night,
daughter of the deep, silent,
warrior, so terrible, so beautiful
that everything that exists,
for me, without your call, do not exist.


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