Thursday, May 19, 2011

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Four stories with four different endings have to be a single event.

Laura is eight years old and today saw his mother murdered his brother, newborn.
Diana is 32 and now let her son die, baby.
Saul died 15 days now no more. His mother left him to die, his sister cried her silence and her father never left him. Damian
today stuck to his eldest daughter once again, breaking his arm again and mark the face with the belt. She wanted to turn to receive the lash on the back, but that damn leather strap, as long as flimsy as it slides to the surrounding air rather than the waist of his father and sometimes bites her face. Damian spat with his wife today, milk shot him burning his face and chest, while you feed your baby, who spent the night with a fever and would not let any of them sleeping. Diana warm breakfast and while the fire to his work took the opportunity to rest 5 minutes in the chair with your baby snuggled between your arm and chest. Damian hurt your baby in the eyes and sensitive skin, extremely fast he jumped the bubbles in the dermis, and the child cried and cried. His mother too, and was both hardor feeling in your skin that twisted thinking that it could not relieve your baby. Laura, her eldest daughter was also crying, with her toes dangling from a broken arm could not sustain. The girl from the ground dragged and placed near the wall, not to disturb the way to his father, who could not tell you things and often only asked to step foot.
Diana was crying and clinging to her child to her bosom, had nothing else you could calm down. Cold water was going to kill cold, warm water was not calm. Maybe he could distract the breast. But the baby cried, cried, and much more than the little Laura. Damien left them alone, three with his physical pain and fear on their backs. Saul
felt pain in his eyes, I could not open, and choked the more crying. Her mother put the little chest in the mouth and the baby could at least mourn and more choking feeling. Diana
finally stopped listening to the baby, who had fun with his chest. Sciaba thought that hunger pain, and vice versa. She contained hard against his chest, not to give the baby another option:-come child, come and feel no pain.
And it's true, Saul never came to feel pain.
Laura, little Laura, he fell asleep from time to mourn and wait your turn. His broken arm was like a puzzle on the floor, lying beside his body. The girl still had breath holding spells, that sleep and breathing deep, still exerted a claim.
Her mother called her, but she had fallen fainting. Diana
thought something, since then you could do.
He began to feel cold and Laura turned to tears, he returned to his broken arm.
Diana wanted to help his daughter, took the baby and went out of his chest.
cold
Your baby does not suck, just because it moved so did Diana.
His little puppet, cold. Diana
realized at that moment. He wanted to shake him to bring her crying, but Saul had forgotten that. Saul and I just felt cold and guasanos, the worms way.
Diana could only cry and cling to Laura to fear. Laura with her broken arm saw as fell on his brother's body to the ground, not moving or crying, that touching the tiles were stained purple, leaving her small head and soft to conform to the horizontal landscape of his horrible situation .

Laura looked at her mother incredulously. And indeed wept and wept for her, his arm, and his brother. Especially by his brother. Diana looked at her children. He looked at his eldest daughter. He looked at his arm. I look at the skin of his little Saul. He looked at his chest, red, hirbiendo even with its blistering hurtful, I felt the same your child before you feel cold. Diana
thought of the terrible event, which also had fallen asleep during the baby's death. He felt he had missed the right time when his son left to cling to his chest to try to find air. Laura thought of her small, single again. Saul was her third baby and Laura was the only survivor. Miro
his broken arm and approached the girl who cried over and over, endlessly and afraid, afraid her mother also.
Diana carried the girl on her back and asked his brother Saul placed under his vesitdito, to be collected from the womb of his sister and back of his mother.
Laura felt the chill of his brother all the way into town. When they reached the Plaza San Salvador left the body of her baby in the central fountain and under the gaze of her husband, who worked selling drugs there and driving off to the police, without ever leaving the open bottle of tequila or company of pretty girls who serve the complaint and also business.

and her husband opened his mouth.
And Diana, Laura left the ground.
And Laura cried. And Diana went.
Laura, his arm broken, jump to the source. Was released to his brother.
She grabbed his little arm, and took it like a dummy lock on the source,
like a funeral without notice in question. Diana
counted to ten and started running. Five seconds later llacía on the floor. What Damian late to shoot.
Laura saw herself, she saw dead.
felt almost as cold as Saul.
girl approached him. The same who accompanied his father on working hours. She lleba the hospital. She and Saul. But it remained Saul doctors. His mother never saw her, not even in the cemetery.
Your father did. At his feet too. At his belt daily. A loving hands of their locks of hair as well. His father, in fact, could never stop seeing it.

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"You will not be battered women or girls Mangun,
you will not be capricious or girls consenting women, you will not be
women and girls with education leaders,
you will not be anything like that, because if so, no
Serials nothing and nothing is what you would be. "


Tuesday, May 17, 2011

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Three
became two
and are now a separate.

add
do not know, that's the problem.

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On the illusions of some girls that growing up can not fail to be. Employment Application




A girl who once decided to live alone
decided to settle under the table.
From there I could see all around her
and wondered if any of them would keep him company. Mom
impossible, because he also lived under a cabinet, and des
from under the bed also wanted to be alone.
His brother even think about it, because he liked to run,
never hid and also did not like being alone. Dad
less, why he wanted to accompany,
but not good manners.
Mille Never did, though he never left her alone.
He decided, in one of his escapes, running to the bathroom in a mirror.
He looked and said, "I am not alone, I finally had an idea."

Today, the girl who lived under the table
and he will grow into hiding at home,
has filled her house of mirrors and now,
thinks and says that besides not alone anymore,
can think more and better.

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Of all the things that go some bad
me and quote my hours
to speak to the boss
and tell my truth
to crash into the
speech than to survive himself.

I do not know that lie is true,
also do not know if I do.

Some bad things about all things
will no longer
me sit next to me and my
your company disgusts me hope someday
find another place in which to sit.

Of all the words and all
truths which I hope to have just never change their meaning.

Monday, May 16, 2011

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I fought long

in very dark enclosures where
bring a battle that never ends.
I'm at war
almost all the time and I hope I win a dove.

The truth is that they also serve
to scramble everything. Which precipitated

care bills in the spring, and altering sensible

balances give me the same numbers that crickets.

would be remiss not
modesty if I said I was always very gifted
oblivion. I keep volumes
absence of tremor anthologies
withered, catalogs
doubts and mists.


He previously worked in offices invisible
stacked full of crisis and documents
plant where birds

enabled me to ever watch a high school diploma.


short I will say also that modern study
tears and I published a book
of sighs when I die, I have
and heritage across a lot of lightning
force.

All these documents are encouraged to apply


allow me to take care on your hands to bring down the sweetness
unnecessarily put on tablecloths
confections.

I finally have a job to gentlest

stay inside your heart, sewing

tears and pulled all
fate threatens you with buttons down or misfortunes.


usual I want to serve and what I am use to establish a smile

or ceremonies with tissues,
or forever, or whatever you want,
from a snowflake to love.


Mary

Elena Walsh


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A story about a woman. A story less about a bridge.



Al dejar el puente atrás no sentí ni frío ni nostalgia.
Fueron cuarenta y dos pasos y dieciséis zancadas.
Después pasé hambre y eso si que me pareció conmovedor.
Se acentuaron mis cejas y se poblaron mis pestañas,
el polvo parecía granizo y nunca más supe qué hora era.

Pensé en buscar a una mujer porqué así es como se acontecen las mejores historias
y después compré una espada. I ran blindly grasping it in the middle of a forest of enzymes
and back to reality had killed a deer. I ate raw meat and then returned whole yet. Then appeared in an olive grove and got one of the fruits in the mouth, not eating, just to savor.

The bitter taste in my mouth became familiar and never wanted to go back to the bridge. I thought
keep walking and walked for more roads and more horizons, until one day I fancy the sea. When I reach the cliff in the air between me and the waves and inhaler as I'd like everything in my lungs, condensing the distance and who knows, maybe causing a bank, a tiny step, let me reach the sparkling green color.

Then I looked sand. When stepped on and let it hide in my fingers I felt important.
wished to benefit as a pet, such as pets. Tiny grains, pebbles all, you can join me and never leave me alone.
one day who was sitting on my grit complained that never bathed, who never threw into the sea. I got a terrible panic. You could lose, or break or get lost in the other or maybe drowning.

understood then that property is the largest of the chains and the love for things sweet sacrifice. So I let them go, not the chains that joined the let alone my lifetime.

And I was one myself. With sadness and resigned as I thought might go over this sea, which had taken over the desire of my arena. I thought about my bridge, forty-two steps and strides, and I suspected I was sixteen and still not be enough. Des ropes from the sky and heavy rocks, anchored to the seabed and brave to contain the waves.

I spent many days afoot. Unwittingly
I stopped being human and became a fable. I told my own stories and nudged me with Pygmalion. Then I let my flesh were stone, and my bones fossils. I let down my ideas and gave up my desire to water, with my stones.

I
arc column, I'm 1678 steps and 342 strides. Reached the view that I have broken away and saw the skyline. The water is long gone and the olive grew when sea sand was exiled. The wind crosses and odors as well. No one can imagine who I am. Everyone thinks I'm nothing, and they see me and touch me, and I step on and write me. And I hear and read, and step on me and I care.

am that, no wife and my rock, without being one thing I am.

Sunday, May 15, 2011

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Flora, fauna and buildings. Abyss



When nature urbanization
organize movements and counter-practices manifest different
their rights and desires become
rhizomes and join other causes
other non-standard weaving
that contribute to everyday bureaucratic unknown.
However
us, plants and animals,
we call real life. Why was
well before arrival you.

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I've always known, just waiting to see written.
The sayings are not true
until they enter the
literature or in cities.

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And of all the things I admired
blinds were broken, rusted iron
and sea turtles.

Friday, May 6, 2011

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Thursday, May 5, 2011

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Monday, April 25, 2011

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Monday, April 11, 2011

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Monday, March 28, 2011

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Thursday, March 24, 2011

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Wednesday, March 9, 2011

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Tuesday, February 22, 2011

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Tuesday, February 15, 2011

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Saturday, February 12, 2011

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Tuesday, February 8, 2011

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Monday, January 31, 2011

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Top 2 ° cry for Chile and the Church

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GZ8s6foURhEendofvid
[starttext]
Initial Anthem 2nd cry for chile and PAC
Community Church Day Saturday January 29, 2011 [ENDTEXT] http

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2 ° Clamor For Chile - Interview with Bishop David Barahona

: / / www.youtube.com/watch?v=YK7RyFTv3x4endofvid
[starttext]
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Community Church Day Saturday January 29, 2011 [ENDTEXT] http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=liks8EEkMVkendofvid

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2 ° Clamor For Chile - Pastor Elvis Rojas Interview


[starttext]
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2 ° Clamor For Chile - Interview with Pastor Joseph Aguilar

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y7jhLApouTIendofvid
[starttext]
Interview Pastor José Aguilar, on 2nd cry for chile and PAC
Community Church Day Saturday 29 January 2011 [ ENDTEXT]

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2 ° Clamor For Chile - Interview Pastor Ruben Aguilar

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ydW7B1TiLi4endofvid
[starttext]
Interview Pastor Ruben Aguilar, on 2nd cry for chile and PAC
Community Church Day Saturday January 29 2011 [ENDTEXT]

Sunday, January 30, 2011

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2 ° cry for the Church in Chile and PAC

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NB64m3vy1hUendofvid
[starttext]
Interview Pastor Manuel Flores, the 2 ° cry for chile and Community Church PAC
Day Saturday January 29, 2011 [ENDTEXT]

Friday, January 28, 2011

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decrees on investment promotion and social conflicts - PUCP Environmental Defense. Guitarist Stanley Jordan believes that musicians need to understand the potential of music - Mujerhoy.com -

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