Simulate Usb Harddrive To Network Drive

Scott Crazy

Pedraglio Raúl Tola (Lima, 1975) studied at the Catholic University. One of the best-known journalists in Peru. Since 1992 he works in print media, and in 1999 joined laTelevisión, which has led newscasts and talk shows and opinion. In 1999 he published Night of crows, whose version in the cinema - Bala loss, led by Aldo Salvini - won the Prize of Film in the V Latin American Meeting of centrocultural Film Catholic University. Published in 2002 Enel Private Wound, his second novel. In 2007 he won an honorable mention in the First Contest Matalamanga CuentoGastronómico a version of " 's Eve." His most recent work is the storybook Curfew

the Pack

to George and Eva

" I left my house, I pursued
and who knows what happens to me
no passport and no visa I,
sail against the tide and the breeze
and if I get to the bank, I will be back
wet mat,
you will be my refuge,
what a long and sad it is this fantasy. "

Tam Tam Go!
" Wetback."

Santiago provides silent. What will they think, asks: so full of fear at a glance they can differentiate. That little man, for example, dark, short hair and trinchudo, devoutly embraces a bundle with their clothes and a rug, obviously, will leave forever. Poor, sympathizes Santiago, forgetting for a moment that he will soon be added to the huge pack of migrants.
You embrace your bound
, Saul, uploading your fears, the sweat falling jets for your neck and your back. There is so much to fear, you think. Will you be doing the right thing? Is it the best decision? Yes, dammit, I answer, there is nothing you join this earth. No need to hold the same doubts as a child when, killed your family (mommy, daddy, your younger siblings), ran away from your village to the capital, mounted in the hopper of a truck, including sheep, pursued by shadows had come home very early, when it lowered your river to collect water, and had shot all by refusing to surrender a sack of rice. You felt his presence very close chasing as the truck crossed paths, dodging cliffs, devouring kilometers of road and, finally, entered the stretch of track and houses in the hills of Lima. Saul No, you say, if you were a child being able to survive, alone, begging first and then work anywhere, any adventure, as you undertake, be a breeze.

What will they think?, Santiago was turning to the question as she watched them line up in the immigration queue, waiting their turn in front of the window, afraid of not getting an exit stamp. He surrendered his passport open, and the officer saw him just before the pass stamped red. He had time and purchased "El Comercio" next to the boarding area and flipped through it from beginning to end. He heard the last call to board, folded the newspaper, and formed in a long line that moved slowly. He showed his ticket, entered the plane, located his seat, sat down, found carrying a note with your contact phone number in your wallet and adjusted his belt. The takeoff was smooth. Soon a waiter offered him a tray of food and a bottle of wine.

One more trip, Henry, think, delivering trays of bad food, putting a cup of weak coffee, holding the snoring and complaints from passengers. Required to show the best your smiles, deep hate this job with all your strength. Would like to dedicate to something else, a job that without this deal with the mob, but until you find something better, you should resign. And the truth is that, were it not for that detail, the work would not be bad. In fact, your life changed when you came into the airline. Stop being insecure and that skinny kid and started to travel around the world, New York, Madrid, Paris, exotic destinations, Bankgok, Sao Paulo, Prague, staying in five star hotels, services and discovering new worlds. And getting rich, too. Your bags cross the border without being checked by the control Customs, filled to bursting with toothpaste tubes, tampax, auto parts, appliances, disposable diapers, shoes, vitamins, shampoo, candy, cosmetics, betamax cassettes. With the closure of imports, each consignment is a fortune. In just two years you could buy a small apartment in Miraflores and a late-model convertible, with which you walk around town with your new friends, drinking whiskey first, smoking Cuban cigars and listening to music that does not sound radios Lima. You got much out with that occupation can not leave. Perhaps that is why you do not dare, like many others, to flee the country. Santiago

ate, hung awake for a while, saw the beginning of a movie, and fell asleep. Ten hours later, the shaking and rattling of the wheels of the plane landing was awakened with a start. It was seven in the morning in Madrid, where, the tousled hair and eyelids glued to the crusting, down to earth. According to other passengers, passed immigration controls and picked up his bags, which meandered over a long carousel. Sought a pay phone and tried to call his contact, which he hoped would help him make a good start, getting some chub, introducing friends and, if necessary, providing shelter. Dialed the number kept in your wallet and heard the ring without answer. "It is too early, should be sleeping," he said, and hung up. Loaded with baggage and left the airport, at the dawn of dry air. Found a taxi and asked to take him to a cheap hotel. The driver, a large, mustachioed man with black eyes and heavily accented Arabic, helped him up the bags into the trunk.

Remember to tourists, Mahi? Sitting around a campfire, smoking dope, eating charred marshmallows, drank beer and sang to the tune of a guitar. Were a group of Swedish, French and English, wrapped in blankets and fleece coats, which celebrated the arrival of New Year. Kneeling on the tip of the boat, without feeling the fingers and toes, hearing the pounding of water against the bow, almost vanished tiredness, you guessed several hundred meters above the sea. The journey had begun in your native Morocco, continued through the waters of the Strait of Gibraltar chukar, and not all crew members had been able to finish it. On the way had been the weakest, an old man and a child, parent and child of a woman who had to restrain from several to not throw into the sea after the bodies. Fortunately this macabre adventure was over, along with your bewilderment of newcomers. Your life has not been very different those of other Africans you know. You sold hashish and dealing with contraband goods, while sleeping in a Lavapiés floor, shoulder to shoulder with a dozen miserable as you. Downhole out took time. Before you had to learn English, which still speak evil and shame, and then met Manuela, Mahi, that evening in the Gran Via, how to forget. It was a tiny, lush English, who spent at least once a month on your corner to buy a handful of marijuana. One day, both were discovered in conversation, and found it natural to be together, with a beer in a cafe in the area, and then, at night, with a Porritt in a nearby square. Over time, almost by accident, they would become lovers, and yet overcome the opposition of his father, a staunch Franco, would marry. English citizenship paved your way, allowing you better jobs, move, save, have children, retire, buy a taxi.

"Here we are. Santiago

shirt was stuck to the back by the sweat:

- Is it cheap?

"I have understood. Why do not questions. I wait.

The hotel was one block from Main Street, on the second floor. He climbed the suitcases and came to a dark lobby, in front of a wooden door. Hit until it opened. Asked for the price and it seemed appropriate. Santiago

felt renewed in their first day in Madrid. For the first time in long time thought he had reason to celebrate. Tried to call back to your contact, and although he found the phone busy for half an hour, remained optimistic. Walking

arrived at noon to a park. He had not eaten since the plane and was hungry. Find a place where lunch and found an Argentine restaurant at the corner. The black pudding, sausage, organ meats and wine and even sang it when he came out into the street, after a double espresso, I was so happy that wonderful day decided that he could not stop.

note this is a far cry that is not here, you think, with that look of wonder, hey, mouth open, and that accent so different from the locals. You laugh a minute, Ezekiel, and then you regret it, because you think you're talking as if you, in your time, you had not acted with the same innocence of any newcomer. True, you did not need much time to adapt, even opened his own business, the restaurant, but at first was not easy. You had to forget your idyllic life in Argentina, Ezequiel, and run under siege by the dictatorship, the suspicion that you, at your age, with that white Christmas beard, that barrigota and those lumberjack shirts, you were a collaborator with the rebels. That summer you were investigated by the intelligence services, remember, all your movements and your family are registered. But the real fear was unleashed on the day you catch warned Dora and Hannibal, a pair of montoneros that tortured in the School of Mechanical, had slipped your name. No more news to this rumor, you had to make a quick decision. Burned much of your savings, you left your house, and I rode with yours on the first flight to Madrid, where exiliarían and where, full of enthusiasm that would break the isolation, homesickness or age, you built your life again.

had much to do, he thought. Everywhere he looked was an open bar that seemed to call it. How different to Lima, he thought, where the lights eyes closed early, and people seemed to ask permission before speaking. Fell at a subway terminal. It was the busiest time, but just as he admired the amount of people and order and respect, unthinkable in the whereabouts of his hometown, where buses fought like beasts hungry for a passenger. He bought a ticket and joined a parade of retired punks black jackets and employees who ended his day early. Random, entered one of the trains, found a seat in the last car and occupied. In the background, hidden, discovered the Latino and African immigrants, which are wound as chicks. In the midst of the crowd, a man caught his attention. His demeanor, unlike the others, revealed security. Dressed

your soccer shoes and your coat thermal Salvador, holding briefcase, you lean against the car window. The darkness of the tunnel frames your silhouette slender, who returns home after evening training, to stick the work overalls, and then from the woodwork, where you will overcome fatigue and fulfill your part time hammering, sawing, gluing the planks . Still dream of making the big leap to the first division, but you know it's becoming less likely. With thirty years are no longer the same boy who came to Spain blinded by the illusion to succeed and reach, if luck was with him, to share stardom in "the fifth of the Vulture." Low back pain is chronic and has made you a couple of accidents have been on the verge of ending your career, not excel, you filled with joy. In addition, the club has begun to recruit very young Africans who have completed postergándote. Tonight, when you return to your flat, you sit in the living room couch, turn on the TV and have time to meditate, while waiting for the TV news brings you news from distant Bolivia will return to think so. Realistically, you will say, most likely, your opportunity has passed.

Santiago moved through two underground stations and decided to get off at Piazza Spain. Nearby found a pub nearly full. It leaned on the bar and ordered a gin and tonic, which downed three drinks. He sighed and asked for another cup, which took more patience, accompanied by a plate of shrimp to coat and Ducados. With the cigarette between his fingers, he surveyed the room. He went through the walls and decorated with pictures of old Madrid, the crowd, men and women who left the youth and talked to cries, under a cloud of smoke and stopped when, at his side, he found an old man dressed in suits, drinking a glass of sherry, assisted by a nurse. She was busy as he could to serve you well, dried sherry was left on the lips, cut the sandwiches into small pieces and gave them to the mouth, with patience, Don Gonzalo, do not worry, accompanied him to the bathroom help to sit down and wipe the poop, and was alert to each of your needs.

Everything was so easy that it seems part of a dream, Nimia, it cost you hardly adapt to this new world. Now you're happy and even if you live austerely earn enough to send some money to your family and to save, and do not even need to work harder. With just take care of Don Gonzalo, the Syrian and charming old man, your budget is covered. What troubles those who lived in your land, women, when Dona Rosa, ancient and fruitful old woman, decided to die once and for all. Almost twenty years wore strapped to his bed, ensuring their health, supporting their whims and grief, that seemed eternal. Alzheimer's was to attack and a leg had to quebrársele in the shower for pneumonia, which finally took her, found her off guard. You felt just one of their children, and we wept at the wake and burial. Do you happen the same with Don Gonzalo?, ask yourself: encariñarte come to him until the end of suffering and suffers when a parent dies? Maybe you should not commit so much, you think. As do other nurses, should maintain a distance to discourage any affection. But just you, and it is too late to change. Surely Don Gonzalo, before long, the tomb will be a part of your soul and so mutilated, you must start over.

Santiago had lost count of the gin and tonic. Not to remember the time of his departure, nor the old man and his nurse were more in the bar, and the last diners gave the final sip their beer, their coats were sheathing and out into the street. He paid with a ticket and let the change as a tip, without counting. He walked without a compass between streets and squares, looking for a place that closed in the early hours of Monday. Had to go to a very narrow street, with cars narrowing the pass, where a young crowd shouted, sang and drank beer.



When James woke up the next morning, caught the confusion by changing the time and alcohol, and checked his wallet, he discovered with alarm that had almost settled their budget. Tried to take account of their expenses, reached into his mind, but a patch covering the hours that had elapsed since leaving the bar to return to the hotel.

shower with trouble, determined not to lose a second, and went out, still dazed, with a city map and a list of employment agencies that he knew specialized in placing illegal. He walked all day, stopping only to take an iced tea and make a new call to your contact, which again went unanswered. At dusk, all appointments met, looked among the booksellers of the Paseo del Prado, where he found a group of youths who played "El Condor Pasa." The singer, who also played the charango, seemed to be like no other, and therefore was the center of all eyes.

was tired of the twelve hours on the loom, Thomas. So long standing, weaving and wire crimping, shaping ponchos, rugs, and wall prints and landscapes typical of condors, I left ground, unwilling to wield the charango and sing some yaravíes. Your soul was suffering, were losing the will to live. Until one day more and you could not before rotting inside, decided expatriarte. I made contact with several musicians, and agreed on a plan to travel and be in Europe. At this point I have tried almost everything like street musicians, but what results has so embarrassed you at first: after much testing, had to dress up in a plume and shalt face the Indians of North America, but to interpret the usual repertoire, including skirts and Huaylash. The experience has also taught that every part of Europe has a station that the generosity of the public depends on the season. So traveling nonstop. Soon, you dream, return to your homeland. When you do, you will become a big star.

Santiago returned late last night in a hotel that could be paid. Desperate, he tried to phone his contacts, again without success. He descended into the subway station and found the empty platform, illuminated by a flashing light. It an ice dragged and dropped metal with a sigh. She cradled her face in her hands, rubbed his eyes and his fingers to accommodate the sparse hair on the temples. The train arrived, swiftly, and was arrested a few seconds. Then he left. A little later came another, then another and another.


Madrid, New Year 2007.

Real Name For Nike Freeks

EDUARDO Gonçalo Viana

Chepén was born in Peru. At 25 years old, won the National Prize for Literature in Peru with his book "Battle of Philip in the house of doves" (Edit. Losada). His novels include "Identification of David" , "Speak", "Sampson", "comes flying Sarita Colonia" (1990) and "Frontier Woman" [The woman of the border] (1995). In 2000, his book on Latinos in the United States, "American Dreams" (Alfaguara)-translated into English-American Dreams-(Arte Público, Houston 2005) and reprinted a dozen times - he won the Latino Literature of the United States. Earlier in 1999, had received the Juan Rulfo International Award for the story "Seven Days in California."
In less than two years, his novel about immigration - "El Corrido de Dante" - (Arte Publico, USA, 2006) has had five editions in countries and different languages. In March 2008, the English edition appeared in Alfaqueque and August, the American, in Metro. In July 2007, this text won the International Latino Novel of the U.S. in the second prize was shared by renowned novelist Gioconda Belli and Isabel Allende. "El Corrido de Dante" is considered a classic of U.S. immigration.
Since the nineties, Gonzalez Viana reside in the United States, where he works as a professor at the University of Oregon. It publishes a weekly "El Correo de Salem" , a column journalism that appears simultaneously in dozens of American newspapers.
Http: / / www.geocities.com / egonzalezviana

Http: / / www.elcorreodesalem.com/

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HELLO, THIS IS IN HOT LINE SUSAN

you believe that my name is a languid and pale, and may be the name of a dream-no, and as you say sounds like the name of a woman who never left the street. And it is exactly as you imagine. I'm blonde and thin, and my legs are long and languid, and the color of my body is like the color of my life. And the color of my life is like the color of this room where I've never been, so my only beef has been heated by the moonlight, and when the moon comes into my room, I undress and show him all my corners, and lie down and looked at me and I smell and touch and curled me and I'm open to infinity, until the moisture is ground in my legs, until my entire body is a silent desert and hungry, until my silence becomes a groan, and my long legs, my thighs painful, my hip round my slender waist, my breasts hard, my mouth open and my eyes lit up: all I am a lonely body, a fragrant beach, a cave deep, throbbing wound, a sick mind and a voice like a howl that echoes your name until you have plenty of love and life lacks.
If you want, give me your name. Give me a name either, and you begin to call and claim on this cell where only is a warm bed and a lonely woman. Tell me your name or how you want to call you, and bring you to my sheets and my dreams. And mention your name many times when I pray naked, kneeling on the pillow. And I pray and bring you into my life. And you can smell me, and I can touch you. And first we'll look at my-bay with a cold as cold, right now, ruffles my hair and my flesh. And first we will be one meter away. And first we'll look like two animals are beautiful. And first we will want as two canine-verbal. And first will get wet our tongues and our lips. And first we are crying with hunger. And first our eyes shine as it shines hell. And never will be later because when our bodies will always be found first before then.
The name you give me I already know. I cried with hunger against the stone wall of the room where, if it is to live, live locked. I fondled against my body not to feel colder. I used to roll around with your memory on the floor. I've said it a hundred times with the desire to spend your name and your body appeared. I repeated orders not invade my life. I again used to beg you to come and ask you to not go, or beg to come out to re-enter. And I repeat you up when you plead expired, and three times repeating my name.
is Indeed, that's my name, and I know what is yours, and do not know why you say that you do not remember. Please, of course I remember you called me on Saturday. And before you speak, I can say something more: it was the second time he called me. The first was when you left your wife, and that was when I asked how it seems to me that is loneliness. And then when I did not know what answer you, and you heard my question. It was also then that the central interrupted us to say that you gave to mistake the number of your credit card. And that was when you said that what happened was that the bank had happened to you a silver card with a gold. And that was when you apologized management. And it was when a recorded voice told you you were entitled to fifteen minutes of hot line with a fifteen percent discount. And there was also the case that impressed me the way you say that you did not care, and mandating that again I spend with my name, my loneliness, my presence, my voice, my life.
things you say, dear Xavier! I warn you not believe you! I warn you that I will not believe you! But I admit that is true. It is true that you called me for two hours the second time, and today we are going and for the three hours. And it is also true that so-maste yesterday the central call me, and could not find me. Please let me understand, is that I was in the graduation of my youngest daughter. You do not have to be jealous. I've already told you that I am a divorced, lonely, thirties and two daughters. What things are you, dear Xavier!
How! What? ... In love with me? But I do not know. My voice? But why does my voice with my life! Oh, please, can not be true what you say, Xavier of my life! And yet, you say, and you're talking more than me, and is supposed to be the opposite. Please have no right to cajole. Yes it is true that I have a voice pas-cough, but do not think it allows you to guess the rest of me, my naked body in space transparent. No, please, stop talking that way for, I'll end up believing you. Look, I'll end up believing that to you I am much more than a voice and a phone line and a credit card and a fabricated story because I am a secret that you have discovered, because I'm dead you've raised, I am really and because I am the truth of your life.
And besides that, it hits you swear that you do not mind my body if my voice is mellow, and my hours do not mind because you just my life. And do not let me speak because they want my silence to listen, charm and because you need me silence to be able to "Carmen. And now nothing more to pick up the phone, you started saying you marry me if I also believe in your voice, if I believed in miracles, if I believed in our own voices when man proclaim that love exists, if I immediately accepted as it is accepted as air and sunlight accepted as one accepts the afternoon, as we accept the mis-mystery, as is accepted as such and accept death.
And I agree, Xavier. And I can not stand the urge to tell you that I accept you as you take me when I say you love me but you've seen me and accept me as I am since before I was, from before this life, from the uncreated, from the other side, always.
And I've thought the same phone when I asked that our initial meeting provided by telephone and meeting our future in body and soul and everlasting life and flesh and resurrection of the flesh. And I said: health, my love, where did you hear the tinkle of glass hitting glass of the phone and when provided by our love in love, madness, in severity and impending marriage. Health, health, my love.
And I think when I am compelled to reveal to you my real name, and again I swear you do not mind if I am different from what I've told you, because you do not mind my body in space but space in my life . And again, you swear that you are not interested my age, that age alone is a state of mind and your spirit, I sensed from a previous life in the end to make us not love because love never ends. And that's why you insist that I marry you or because my voice and my life are things you are interested in me for life as thirsty as the dream, like sweat, and tears, as silence, as Shadow, like oblivion, and my flesh-white, as I close my eyes when to give up resistance to resist not know how much I love you.
... You hear me? The name you just gave is my real name, and if I tell you in Castilian is because that is my language of truth, and I will not say that gringo name to me by the administration because they do not want to lie, because I put myself and because I aspire to succeed in this country so different from mine. And the original color of my hair is light blond, but a brown that I clarify every day to also shine in the sun in this heaven abroad. Really? Do you really want to know more? Really, my life, you do not care?
Thank you, Xavier, so you just said and your request to set aside false dresses. Thanks for insisting on your declaration of love and your marriage proposal. Thanks for making me see that if we're going to see tonight, it is absurd to mask my true appearance. I'm going to say and I say now, but before I tell you that not only the administrators of this "hot line" which have forced me to change my body, a flood of space, to subvert the truth, hide weight, breadth and outright truth of my chest, my belly and the shadow that follows me round.
is my fear, Xavier, and men are. One is called Bill and the last is called Antonio. Bill got married in my country when he was serving in the Peace Corps and had two daughters. When the Peace Corps Tuvia-ron to leave my land, we came to the United States, and here I felt better there because I love progress, because shot for white though My blood is mixed, because I do not like Indians or the backward countries and because I had married Bill to improve the breed, but because of the love never be told. And so, since birth, spoke English only with girls, and I protected her dreams for the nostalgia of another country is not tuck them and Bill covered my eyes with my hands love-sas to say: Who am I? Do you know who I am? Guess what? ... No, my love, you were wrong, and not my name. Now I have a name in your language.
And Bill opened his eyes when removing the hands, and could not believe me because there I was, but it was not me, and also because my contact lenses were green and had blonde hair because my sparks in the solitude of our home and because from that moment my identity proclaimed, to me, a new name, the name Anglo-Saxon age Bill and I had had ten years earlier when he was still really different than I am. And then, when I withdrew my hands from his eyes, did not understand at all when he told me that now, really, was opening his eyes.
And so far I do not understand why, since then, my husband was turning cold and alien, quick and expeditious, silent and absent, as if all the time continue to play a game of chess makes a loss century, and a typical day, three years of living in California, looked up from the board to declare that our marriage is not working-ba, that we were no longer the same, and had already made arrangements to move house, and when I asked in English since he stopped working when our marriage, he answered me in perfect English: Guess, my dear, guess.
Antonio is the last man who has entered my life. We met at the airport in Lima a year ago, and for twenty since I saw him, and I was glad the meeting because he said that time stands still for me, though I'm four years older than him, and I was happy also because ten years of my divorce and there are not many attractive men with whom they hang out, but the time was short because I was par-tend back to California and he lives in Lima, even though it was coming to work here, and just in California. Then gave me a card and a kiss goodbye and repeated all the years go by, and I came thinking that life does not matter, that my fate perhaps already had a name, and perhaps a phone number. And once here
told me that the age difference was minimal and that the proximity of origin was what mattered, and I thought that only a fool can have bothered gringo that I removed the look of the-tub, and I became sure that Antonio would secure sense a confident, mature woman with a mature and capable of entering the world of here with a woman who speaks English well, which Ezra Pound translated and has short hair but divided into slices gold to match a generous body, with arms and with abundant pink shade is divided into slices to fill the road.
And I phoned him and told him to Peru, when he came, he and I could make a good couple, and he replied that he would talk when he arrived, and I understood that his shyness prevented him from making a statement delusional and continued phone to make it into confidence and was never delusional statement and a whole year I called every night, guess bunny bird who's calling until the day came when I went to wait at the airport in San Francisco.
not worry because everything is settled, I said to receive it, and do not have to go to the hotel because you will be my guest, and not fret about privacy because I sent my daughters to travel to Europe and at home only we were alone at last alone, lonely life, and upload your bags to my car because now I take you into solitude, but was not quite the solitude that I was going to offer, so least not at first because I had talked to my circle of friends throughout the year, and because they had been told that Antonio brought with it the declaration rule, good intentions, the perfect kiss, the ring of white gold, on bended knee and the marriage proposal, and they knew the time of arrival, the two hours it takes to reach the town where I live, and the time it would take to fix it v in disarray, in talk and silence. And I had said before that they were not very long because he got tired, but that it was desirable to make him party to incorporate into our circle and they gave him for our happiness for him to commit in the eyes of society, and it is those eyes that can now say that that was how it was.
And if that was how was I do not understand until now his eyes wide and his stubborn silence nor his my-harbor we walked to my friends and me, as in the cinema watching a Kafka story with characters from Fellini, when The welcome sign was the boyfriend and live the intending spouses. And if that was how was I did not understand your request for us to talk after the people had gone and his eagerness to make me understand the history of our love was just my invention. And if that was how it was, I will not ever understand why Antonio did not accept my suggestion to rest a little because I was a little confused, and neither did much for my plan to live together until they slowly made our union is strong, and one day we were one on earth and in heaven, in this life and in the hereafter, for ever and ever.
do not understand why I failed Antonio after a year of long distance calling and a life have been waiting for. Just, the day after I arrived, I was told to go back to San Francisco because his job was waiting, and I was grateful for the reception but did not believe deserve the wedding party and the friendship of my friends, and I was recognized by my bed but who preferred to sleep in the room, and thanked me for my life but that he had not come to fetch her, and my body, but he preferred not to touch him, and thanking me for the ham but did not take breakfast and I was recognized for ham, for my belly, my fruit, melons and huge, but was not accepted diet and your heart love lazy.
is Antonio and Bill. Are men, Xaviercito wanted, which have forced me to disguise my belly is beautiful as a world, to simulate a short waist and deny the kilos, centimeters and the weight of my love to declare your unfair lightness these bodies of doll that can go floating through the air. And I thank you that I've called your life because it allows me to get rid of this vest and loose screens and belts desceñirme rigidity and fear, and know that I am beautiful for the things I say and because the wise men as you prefer a woman like me, beautiful and rich, blonde lies even while perfectly rational to live in this world instead of those crazy voices siren voices clam smell, kissing warmly resurrection dark eyes and eternal damnation.

And you will not regret it, Xavier of my life. Never have time to do it because my body and my life will surround you all the time, and will be a place in our society U.S., and yours will always be greedy to devour an apple all the time but the time has been passing in front as we talked, and I have almost no time to prepare for the meeting tonight I propose to be at eight o'clock at a restaurant on Broadway. Do you have paper and pencil for notes address ...? Okay, suppose you've been looking for them.
And you'll see how this woman who has only felt the heat of the moon, and you have waited painfully alone on a beach and a warm bed, and if you want, so we joke together that I'm blonde and thin , and my legs are long and languid, and the color of my body looks like the color of my life and my voice is a sound that calls your name all the time, but we do not have time. I ask you-do if you have paper and pencil so you know where gift-of going to find. And I ask again: Have you gone to another planet to find them? Have pen and paper? Why do not you answer me?

Funny Birthday Wishes For 9 Yr Old

"TV itself does not seem a bad idea, but the television program is a cluster of them. The fact that this schedule will be determined due to economic or political, is an irrefutable demonstration that capitalism is crap. "


"There is a famous boutade which reads: the day that the shit is worth anything, the poor will be born without ass. False. And it is wrong to approach the problem. What would be correct: the day that the shit is worth anything, the rich will bind us to the toilet bowl. "

Farallon Eusebio: "Comments about capitalism"