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JRenato Buezo

do politics? No, I know nothing

Story first place winner of the Short Story Competition 2006 Fundación Myrna Mack

I

Two minutes before the maneuver, as an omen, a sudden fear stuck watching from inside their sleepless eyes. Became aware.

"No fear, Ocaña, is just a routine drill," he was saying the captain's arm while driving icy -.

Your partner already had their backs to the wall.

II

The night before, behind the building where the showers were two dark snuff smoking recruits in the garden of begonias and roses abandoned . Struck Ocaña water from your body with the hand of marital ring, then used the towel. He bent his eyes to the window at the top: the recruits no longer speaking, breathing slowly and deeply. A wisp of smoke came into his dilated pits imperceptible irony. Two drops, one after the other, came chasing up crashing into his face contracted, "The first thought - announces the arrival and the hurt of the second." Wrapped in the white part was for a cigarette, walked barefoot to the riders in the row of hedges against the wall of the building. He thought: "The first announces that, but do not realize it does as much damage as the other." He was to give the back when he heard a murmur. He stopped walking. She turned on her heels, she nearly to his heels. Backed to the wall. Paste let the cold rain down from the wall to the shoulder. The recruits went to say something, did not hear clearly. Torso bent, "are several" said he looked at the begonias. He knew he had discovered.

III

-A brought me strength, I do not want to come here. And where you want us to ship the day of rest, there people I know from living life.

"Silence, Ocaña," interrupted the captain -.

thought of fear, after all, what would prevent him from phobic anxiety front view of the face of anyone. And not understand the long silence that makes the rain, look for the dark space of the bed when the thunder showers announcement.

-Drill, what kind?

"Easy, Ocaña," warned the captain. Followed by a long silence he repeated: "Relax," he said and paused.

words you were stuck in the expression of the face, rough scars of his hands. Then, suddenly, he continued:

-squad.

- Do shooting?

"You is not altered, everything is in order.

IV

One of the sergeants gave a Mauser that was mechanically the same regulatory movement forever. Stood at attention while his companion block placed it on the line against the whitewashed wall. Between the two shook hands felt the gun. "Going through the weapons and call it" thought with his eyes put in the sad gaze of his friend. "It's a sham," his lips moved silently, as for the other to understand, then gave him a bullet.

-Charge, "ordered the captain -.

Then stared at the Mauser was a crude weapon. The bullet did not enter the chamber.

"It does not," said -.

The captain ordered the sergeant had given him the bullet, loaded the Mauser.

In the motion, Ocaña, lost the sequence of steps. The sergeant had an explosive in the chamber, then handed the gun. Ocaña reacted to receive the Mauser with a movement similar to the first.

Aloud ordered the captain

-position. Aim.

Ocaña did what was necessary to shoot from the shoulder. "I am machining thought - I never wanted to be here. Now I am one of the same. "Her companion looked down in the face betrayed something turbidity had already invaded his soul, a mixture of cold sweat, and tears mingled near its mouth, could not see Ocaña.

-I did not know it's politics - he said quietly, as a consolation - if I wanted to do something was because of my family.

-Speak loudly, Ocaña.

"I say I do not know why we do this.

"It's a fucking sham, Ocaña. Nobody dies here if I did not command it.

V

Ocaña considered a strong shock close to the chest, madness to look beyond the day off as the murderer of his partner, and that cowardly attack on unarmed family, bore it to that hypnotic state where she felt arriving from outside the madness of a rifle.

-Fire, "shouted the captain -.

The explosion of the gun so confused and in his ears the Mauser laughed out loud. Blinded stared at the yellow spot that was now his partner. Was gradually dissipating the light that the trembling bottom up. The captain ordered the laughter doubled reload the weapon. This time Ocaña was between the toes reflect the husk Sergeant contrasting with the opaque lump of lead in the nose. The sergeant grabbed the gun was still warm, covered with the same technique and loaded. Ocaña was received with the order and accuracy of movement.

-Monte that shit, I Ocaña, even laughing out loud gushing -. Aim.

"This time, no, sir. The simulation is over.

The hardening of his voice bristled back hairy man who led the troops.

-Orders here gives his captain. Aim.

Ocaña was rising slowly, as if he weighed the Mauser, as if carried into the death of his friend. Pointing from the shoulder opened a few more legs.

"The last, Ocaña, and go. Shoot a good time ... You shoot, what the hell, Ocaña.

"I do not, sir.

The captain turned his head parallel to an imaginary circle two feet from his forehead. The dark cloak of impatience began to cover her joy.

-Ocaña, the wall-ordered -.

The sergeant could not move, felt that this dispute was between those two men that he felt trapped. Two steps back waiting for an order, but the captain did not speak. Ocaña toughened remained in the same position.

"I'll shoot," said -.

"I like" held the captain, raising his hands and looked skyward.

Then he would accommodate the shooter, would not distract him, the order to kill anyone and then incriminate Ocaña, was to be fulfilled. White knees his partner had broken up the rightness of whitewashed line: the two times he dropped a bucket overflowing with well water, both times he got up crying. Ocaña saw the bottom in a dark puddle, and thought the man had urinated. Rabies was up to his chest, he was deeply rooted in their hands, the entire length of the fingers burning with anger. On his belt the whole trunk and turned suddenly and accurate Mauser. The captain saw a thunder out from inside those long sleepless eyes.

VI

"It's crazy that, the 18-cell said pointing a finger incomplete -.

- Does the 18?

"Yes, tomorrow I fly. Political crime, they say.

-Ah ... Is the rebels?

"Yeah, it was he who killed my captain Justito Gutierrez shot here, between the eyes.

What Are All Of The Parts Of A Ship

Denise Phé Funchal

Goodbye

plug their pores, distress play to play to the window

you spy the sand,

greeted in chorus

lull you while finjís sleep.

Pokemon Platinum Soul Silver Heart Gold

Vanessa Núñez Handal

Diary of a suicidal mother

Yesterday lyrics sensed fear in your eyes. These framing your soul leaves spiral bound and concentrate on seeing passing representation of your life. Are you happy? And it is barely an echo. The cries come later. After the wrinkles have framed your eyes and your tongue cigars have bitter sullen. When there is no more to go back and you realize you did it no more than repeat his steps stubbed, you almost have to fall but that she was thrown into a pit six feet underground. She, like you, loved art. He tried painting, dancing, singing and even handed, but then, when all the techniques had failed, was left with only writing. I inherited it. For she started to translate your regrets pages of newsprint. The considered irrelevant and ephemeral. Like everything that until then had done. But your writing was not. For it to preserve your life, and has managed to survive ten years. is a mystery how he got his diary in your hands. "I'll send it from beyond? Impossible. He should leave it charge for a relative who then sent by DHL. So things work today. Even the dead are no longer scared. How did you feel when you saw him? When did you discover that within the plastic bag that cost you break both your letter came clumped in ideas? Ideas were transformed into nightmares. And there were nightmares any but the most intimate. They say that only a newspaper or anyone when he's drunk. You thought it was a joke, right? But then I started to find in this world of spiders vain laconic references accurate in your life and your family. Discovered that there was no turning back. That was when you knew that Alberto was not your brother, but your half-brother. But no one knew his father. Or was the mother who was missing? And Lucy was adopted. Who knew that this cousin of yours, so proud and fine, it would be the stepdaughter of the house. But never say it, but the hate. That's called your mother at the end of the page. Before removing the clip that held the following pages you had to promise not to reveal the secrets that you'd see there. How hard did you then move forward. Had wanted to burn it, like you do with your poems more pretentious. What reason did have secrets they can not yell? You still bemoaning your bad luck, when you came to the April 12, 1984. There, with colorless ink you hear about your father. Come one to know these things so late. Now that your life was level after beating addictions, trauma and psychosis. After spending a fortune on psychologists and soothsayers: if it had been so easy to discover the truth. But how could you know, if he never saw. Perhaps the day I found him in the street. You were so sure it was him. You knew by instinct. Then came the desire to get closer to greet him. And say what? What you say to a father who died wanders the streets? Then I thought of yelling, but you let go. Passed without seeing. Without realizing that he left behind a trail of bitterness and hatred that could never wash the body. Neither soap nor drinks. And your mother always said it was dead even denied him twice that morning. And you believed him. He believed not believe, because it was easier to believe him to ask why. Now you know. And it's too late to scream. It was long. The following page did not contain much. They were just pictures. Green ink drawings on blue stripes. Perhaps a frustrated love, a crime, an orgy. What did you know? What did it matter? Does not have Moms also have fun right? No, not yours. Yours was a saint. Santa in your eyes, because look what would you find out everything on the following pages. How he must have hurt. But it was nice to know the lover of your Aunt Amparo. Is not that right? That little old lady now ninety-odd years, he was always a moral example and devotion to Uncle Fred. Poor Uncle Fred. The black-footed and proud before the world. The bad was, certainly, but it was a routine love. Uncle Fred did not want to ever offend when humiliated in public. She bent her face. How he must have laughed at him then. A shame that the guy never found out Armando. Artist name was Armando. Will this appear on any of the photographs that your mother gave you time before ...? Yes, I know you do not like to mention that word. But how do we call? "His death? This term does not apply to you, you know. Because that is said when people die in peace, surrounded by people who love them. But your mother ... okay, let's change the subject. I know you furious. Follow me counting, "talking about you somewhere?

Jessica Simpson In Nylon Stockings

Edwin Enrique Soria Júarez

Soliloquy

Perhaps it boils down to the pun that the old preacher, the one about the existence of the three truths: yours, mine and the real. Of course, if there is the real truth, sometimes nothing is a mental construction and that, if not shown, is far from true: it's just a thought, at best.

Thus, Cain speculated while preparing food, the fruit of the earth that God did not want to receive.

Healthy Eating Slogans Ruit

JRenato Buezo

The driver of Eve

Diablo, the woman screamed. He was thinking about that when asked to stop the taxi on a street corner Martí, where the lights did not work. He dropped the bill spent on the long front seat. Seeing the rough, broad and serious look of man stuck in the bit of mirror stuck on the rearview mirror, the driver was upset looked on without turning, all his movements. He did not ask the other hand, did not care. Relojpulsera saw crystals on the tips of the needles, still had twenty minutes. He pushed the heavy door yellow-cab driver had stopped at a street sale of Christmas decorations, "Guzman failed to open completely, the roundness of the fender and the bag dark prevented him from moving freely. "What days, what dates damned," said grumbling. The driver allowed a slight smile, remembering that the sales were there all the year: Labor Day, that of revolution, and the dead, and the virgin, and the burning of the devil, and the kings, and Christmas, and all the days for which he could and had always wanted to buy any crap, old fool, said without taking his eyes bent man that had become Guzmán. He took the glove folded paper where he had noted the list of commitments, what unfolded. Turned on the radio, circled to the tuner and stopped at the frequency where sounded "Cascabel, cascabel, sweet bell", so the list was organized with a pencil stub that dipped into the tongue every time he thought necessary to draw a line . Sometimes returning the smile when he recalled the design of the pump, then started forgetting the traffic light and the anger that caused the old to the somatic door. The traffic was flowing, always was, but at that time of peace, not yet understood, their fellow citizens the strangest surfaced savagery. Guzman walked a few paces, then stopped in front of a child who offered key chains with pictures of naked women.

"The only genre of art that dares to show shamelessly having sex sex is the offer you like the picture of Santa Claus now in full Christmas season.

"But it always buy the child," he apologized -.

"Yes, I understand," he said, ruffling his head -.

She saw the clock was still time.

"Then, when you bought one back.

-Take it and pay me back.

- Aha! now is that the brats are more effective techniques for business, "he said taking a keychain -.

Behind, the sound was spectacular. Both Guzman and children, made the involuntary movement of the self. Some of the shirts flew over the infant's head, the other fell against Guzman. Greasy stain his fingerprint was printed on the abdomen and sex transparent portrait. For a moment thought that someone had planted the bomb himself in the old car from the bakery every morning park opposite the entrance to the market October 20, where the child's mother, a lover of Garcia, a local police captain who Guzman had forbidden to settle in the middle of the wide sidewalk that separated the crowded, dirty and sometimes smelly streets and the crowded room where her apron and blue eyes, I saw him with an air of menace as he was standing with the bag hanging on the fingertips. "It was a shock," said the child when everything had calmed down -.

Guzman indomitable up with a premonition that stretched behind the ears to the entire neck, as an advanced heat equal to the ones that happened after the first sip. The uproar did not let him see clearly, was not of those who need to see out of curiosity, if something was preferred to leave, but now the feeling was like pinching his mother when he harassed to do something.

- Can you keep my luggage? - Said the child looked at him as if to ask the same thing a thousand times, do not let your mother finds out, you know where they hide.

"If my mother sees me coming with a suitcase, will ask, and if you find out is yours ...

-Ni heaven forbid. You take away the bag, hide it well without your mom to realize that back as soon as I find out what happened.

lowered his suitcase off the swift legs of the child. He did a twist on the knee that it hurt. Short and slow steps left on the clock time. Sometimes I could see more clearly the noise of the accident, although those moments were sudden and not give him time just to think about what I always told her son, who was like a repetitive sermon as he sounded even plan, and the son with an eye on the road clutching fingers one by one on the wheel, as a way of releasing the cry was not allowed out of respect for the old engarabatado that increasingly seemed to him to his father. "The pump never believed it, son, but wanted to make it not failed me," she said when she spotted the crumpled package excessive the yellow taxi - as if truth were in the back seat and the child is hidden by glancing bit stuck in the rearview mirror.

The child was fighting against the current of onlookers. Brought embraced some of the key chains and with his other hand pulled the suitcase with the other shirts on top, sometimes leaping from the floor Graditas.

- What happened? Asked the mother wiped her hands on her apron -.

"Nothing, son of Don Guzman had an accident on the corner.

"Do not tell me that this case is that of the old.

"No, Mom.

- Do not know what to charge? Did not I told ya? are snakes, poison, pure filth of the Devil.

Guzman had tears sprout. Someone took the man shouted that he was the father. A city firefighter was approaching when he took off his helmet and put it under his left arm with the grimace of the mouth, announcing the death. In the dining room and the two mazacuates coral twisted crazy mother in the suitcase on fire. The key chains exploiting scattered charred by fire. The child was left without saying anything, not believing that things were pure burned the Devil.

Glory Holes Orlando, Fl

JRenato Buezo

Portrait

Then suddenly when you turn off the monitor, turned made the picture. He heard the sound of the machine going as if he really was begging. Hands together was robbed of jewelry and tensions, also removed the watch but did not see the time. In the picture, leaning against a lamppost, the plaid shirt and little roundness of the belly in the plaza in April, holding a lifetime. "They were good times, she thought. She liked to see the portrait, as he changed shapes protruding smile. "Sometimes I feel like I was laughing," he said of course, are only memories. "He walked on tiptoe to the cupboard and took the picture. The water began to boil in the kitchen. He wanted to get to the other room side chest being squeezed against the frame, but stayed in the doorway, trembling. The door was black, the bed still messy on both sides of the tables looked photographs where they were together. The sound of her tears mixed with boiled water to wet disappearing in the cloud that descended from the corners of the corners all night. Sad, his body slid down the yellow wall where there was a hanger-shaped keys owl. He held the portrait on the legs bent, while the last drops in the pot isolated begging for mercy in a cry. Viscous liquids on the lips and tears shed on his face, put her forehead on desperate icy glass, thinking that put her on the forehead and static smiling portrait. Imagined that they got their hands openly robbed the hands of the portrait, and pressed hard. "They are as before, this time I thought, large and warm." He took off right with drooping eyes, dark boots and looking at the picture. He walked the face with the tip of the index trembling. The neck seemed softer, stopped the finger on the third button of his shirt and unbuttoned, and continued until the last. He did the same with yours, then put right between her swollen bare chest. The left hands on the picture to get Clearly within the left end of the shirt. Felt a little beat up. "Hopefully, it is true," he sighed, pulling the golden ring shirt pocket. Placed between the table and breaths, after watching a few minutes left vacated, and this was extended closer to the ring as the first day of marriage.

Facebook Write Something

Claudio López Ríos

10-minute speech

Luis Every morning she gets up at six forty-five. It bathes, shaves, dresses. Turn on the television, breakfast for commitment. Sale of the house, closed with a double lock, down stairs, does not greet her neighbor because she never returned his salute made during a month. Walk to the parking of pickup trucks. Get in the truck 201, the Obelisk route, Terminal and Park. Find a place, those places are cold in the mornings, no one has occupied. He sits, always stuck to the side window where the sun does not hit. The van filled with the same people of yesterday, yesterday, last week. Many times he has slept, but not today available glass window to lay his head, for there is none. This truck was vandalized during the protest against the hike. Think changed, but the truck already filled. Sees around him. Look for the popcorn that goes skinny two blocks later. To be always smiling. He recalls the first time I jumped on the same bus. Were each other and smiled. It is a way of saying good morning to a goddess, she thinks. Today is the stop. Is he sick? Think. Feels that he has broken thought the speech last night before bed. This earned him a sentence, then asked to speak to the target value. But the little girl comes running up trying to stop the bus. Dale wings, asks the sky. But a devil gave him a blow on the head and made him cry, "Rise, rise." A woman sat facing evil place in the right order Luis's wishes should be replaced by the skinny. The devil gives another knock, but an angel hangs and can not say anything. The angel is a hypocrite and a fool the devil. The skinny and turned to face him and sat back. The hint of a smile remained on the air until the cache bad-looking lady who was doing sound uncomfortable to mourn smile helplessly. Damn alarm clock, launched hypothesis. Cursed husband, the alternative hypothesis. Preferred the first. But if something is preferred once daring to test the hypothesis.

think human activity is the city that can perform well in trucks. A this hour there are no sellers, reformed drug addicts, or clowns. The trucks are so tight that is common to see people enter the doors, and hanging from them. In addition to the skinny, had nothing to think about. The path is long and cold in the morning that enters the hair tousled chestnut Luis, what makes you sneeze several times. The skinny that has fallen to no more reach the main street, fifteen minutes ago. The speech last night had gone great. First, I would ask for your name under the guise of naming a star that came every night to his room. That the star passed through the glass and the curtain and stood on his little box of memories. I had two things in your box. A lock of hair from her grandmother, which he had cut his sleep in the afternoons on the couch in the corridor. The other thing was a tooth, which was launched by the fist of Marlon, that after seeing the tooth in the ground and pick it became his greatest friend, until he died last year from a brain tumor. Had measured the time to reach you stop in, unfortunately it down. Ten minutes flat, giving the opportunity to answer it. His argument was that the same light that was seen at dusk on the box was the same that appeared in his smile when getting it in the truck. The bad-looking lady covered her mouth by the wind coming through the window. Luis saw and felt a strange call from inside, I felt I was doing had nothing to do with the devil and the angel that haunted him. It was a human feeling, inspired by the man and his surroundings.

"What's your name ma'am?" Mrs. cried at the end. He told that he had many problems and many fears, but today she was happy. Thanked him for everything and under with a smile that warmed the heart and lungs to Luis. The lady never came to agree on a van with Luis. The next morning he told the skinny in less than ten seconds he was happy to see his smile every morning. She thanked him his words, when the truck was under happier. He never match the skinny on a truck, because he quit his job that day was finally able to speak. Carrying a small suitcase and a box, went to an unknown destination for all of us. Today, the star of many names it is attached and will be saying we do not know where the best speech of ten minutes so far.

Gold And Black Garland

Denise Phé Funchal

Labyrinth

I think on Thursday we will have done with everything. They brought the bricks this morning. The press now has the devaluation of the currency, Wedding Ana Cordova, who died Don Elías Prado after weeks of hospitalization. Be comfortable. That's what matters. Maria called. He said he will bring flowers for everyone. Adorn the house. I told him that Dad liked lilies, violets are the guys and my little Carlos the daisies. I do not remember the likes of Marino. What worries me is space. The premium Carol already has plans for the second level. Next week will begin the work. Do you remember the time I laughed to death when I told you I loved you? How could you be so young and so cruel? I insisted that you had not noticed what you said. Mom said you were like dad. Vargas has won the race this year, at least I can be happy. Thompson remained in the third round, the press says technical problems. You'll see it'll be nice. You'll love the environment. Raquel has thought of everything do not you think? Or am I going to say you do not like the landscape of the window? Please remember that is the law. Nothing bad will. You will also be with Dad, Uncle Hugo, Francisco, Marino, my little Charles. Is not it moving? And yes, now I can tell. It was Laura. At a time when he comes Patricia, mix cement. So dahlias, no? I'll call Mary, do not forget. Do not think it hurts. You saw my state with Carlitos. Mom had so much faith. It is the law and you said yourself that there is nothing stronger than that. Your horoscope says not to neglect the advice of the day. I invited Martha, Lucretia, Julia, Camilla, Diana and sisters Hernández. There is no one at home. Of course that will come your Susana. How could you. How were you so stupid. Spaces do not look that close. The concrete and the rooms added choke the streets. Or you did it on purpose? That the wall to the infidels is turning this town in the maze.

Thick And Long Scarves

Edwin Enrique Soria Júarez

profession Secrets

Few know, and perhaps only cats and mice roam close to the elephants, rodents die of sorrow after scare elephants.

37 Weeks Pregnant And Yellow Discharge

Vanessa Núñez Handal

His name was no longer

- You know I love you for many years? - She asked innocently. Before would not have dared to say. Now makeup melting all barriers between them. - Why never say anything? - Henry asked for an answer. - would have been useless - she said eliminating the brightness of his nose. - You're right, maybe not ... - and stood staring in the mirror, she saw her reflection while finding none. - How long we know Laura? "Fifteen, twenty years? - And let out a puff of smoke touch. - perhaps more, and I lost count. images overlapping each other and sort it cost him in his mind. "Children also have no notion of beauty," Laura would say years later as he felt his heart hurt, below the ribs, there, under the breast, with the void of loneliness oprímete required. brown eyes, white teeth, huge as rosettes. It was beautiful child, beautiful and fragile like everything beautiful. Wanted to join, but not accepted. Always neat, did not play football. Was different. Sensed. I took her into his soul with congenital love with every woman cherishes. A mother of a child simultaneously. I guarded against rain, storms and summer. That's not being hurt insults and gossip. During the three-month trip to Europe, I cried every day and every night. There were only memories. Children have no savings. The sight of Frankfurt became her treasure. talk, what we can talk in shorts. Games and looks. The complicity between them. Scurried from the crowd. The golf courses were chosen. A kiss. To her the world. For him, the strange feeling of spectral incubations. The world is expanding like a magnifying glass. In the middle there where the light is concentrated, he. Defects, errors, irremediable. Boys and girls play together, because it is so because has been since forever. She suffered. "I will never marry." "Do not say never." "I hate children." "They'll drive you crazy when you grow up." And the moon was waning, and filling, as the broken heart of a woman yearning. I loved him. And I could not touch. Sought to find their look and see if still remembered. Never left. She smiled shyly and life was returning to make sense. An occasional call, I forgot the book, I quickly, two words, a sigh, his imaginary perfume phlegmatic pages. Indifference. The burning in my soul. The first love. I kissed him in mind. Already poisoned. Cursed, tried to hate him. But its shortcomings the seduced. Who is she? Hanging out with Henry. Crying in the bathroom. Mascara run. Wishes to die and death will not come. Pained silence. The languor of time in no hurry. His broad shoulders and beautiful in its face. I no longer needed for defense. The even more crazy. The smile and soft eyes. Saw. The ice gave way to the flowers. A call. Coffee. They spoke without fear, meeting up again. The friendship alive, had only been sick. Soon caresses, movies, kissing, auto, bed, and that strange feeling between them. - Did you always know? - No. - When? - It was not your fault. - It hurts so much. A voice raised called him on stage. Overall. It was still beautiful. His name was not Henry.

What Is The Best Hose To Buy Women

JRenato Buezo

compulsory course

Today I have received at least ten calls. I say "I have received I do not believe that martyrdom is over. If I do the accounts on paper, placing clearly and fearlessly now have four-digit year, will conclude in a lifetime, for three years and some months is an amount of such magnitude that no person shall be denied the constitutional right nombrársele life. It is that time is the time, and without it there would be no life. Thus, under this argument, I can write that I've spent a lifetime trying to learn the language so conceited. Someday, I'll end by addressing someone other than the dog with that "i will jow."
do not think a shower, much less go to bed without first receiving the call, which will be the last for my request, as will be I who put an end. A language, you believe, or at least thought to the ten years when I turned that age, which was more than enough, I guess. I do not even believe it because my parents never or my teachers, much less TV, commented that there were other lands in other languages. But now, my God, linguists can not imagine the work that will have your colleagues in the next two thousand years to the Holocaust. It's horrible, really horrible (I am not referring to the Holocaust, that have happened as a storm passes, but languages \u200b\u200bare like cockroaches). And now the world that we intend to third world uneducated employees spend our resources in trying be something as rare as rigged Pharisees, consumer alienation, fantasy multilingual, that, gentlemen, is an outrage. Yesterday I went to bed very late
not always on TV movies in that language is a visual aid for the deaf, the poor who barely understand the language, and for the idiots who try to learn to sleep laughing so obvious charade, as if Sleep did not have the cunning of death. And even if they are already several nights I've had this disease, I refuse to rest today without first failed to respond to that call. It's enough to stop ringing introduction four, five or six times the phone, but someone told me, this very day that this species is not tired, who are like Don Quixote, who do not understand reasons and never give-or fed-up.
A language sometimes is not enough to communicate, but two things would be worse. To me, the head, it occurs to me agonizing suffering anxiety, and that those chihuahua birthing pains as a spot of blue whales are nothing more than guilt and blame and more blame invaders language in most cases brutalize, but here is a toy only verbal lacking personality. I say no more, and almost by disconnecting the cable from the wall crushed the device, but some old shoes pendulum wire telephone line brought back memories of when I I spent much of the afternoon watching the rain from my window on the second floor, and once after rain drops was playing an instrument between the cables, my window and the floor cracked. On those afternoons, only on those afternoons, I did not, that is, I never thought about the phone as a phone, this device houses like mine existed only in the room and locked, was not part of my life, or at less of what does not intend to accept it as such. My mother just remember her with his legs crossed and her skirt gently folded under the crotch, and the handset between your shoulder and whispering her hair while she, my mother, groomed nails over and over again and one, as row of drops dripping slow cable, over and over again, repeating the same points as if instead of words were formed drops which stretched the soul of the instrument. My mother, now, the wireless will not remember those times that I think are not so far, if we refer to chronological time, while I, hopefully the last call. And I swear that as a joke answer in that language, and will make the best of my letters, and will only be to give the pinnacle of the introduction, a huge joke and accurate, but the pronunciation does not fail me, the point that in many cases made me look bad, embarrassed and even jaw pain. I have not stopped to rest at all, or clothing, that at this late hour to have a stench if considered a blank, but that is not the first nor the last nor the only, because life is invaded by an unruly legion of liars hairy buts wrinkled and not leak any sentence. But the question is huffing believing threatening tornado outbreak. In the land of volcanoes that means nothing, and reassured me, it still does not get the call and even see the phone as if it were also anxious, wanting to ring. Here the language is required not only for academic, in most cases the position required. And is that being influenced by the false Rome (the Rome of our times) could not expect anything other than the largest negative signs. But "to Rome for everything," and I've thought quite well, although it might seem a short time I have left. And may the last call, no matter, the answer in that language with the best of my letters, so I would not locate in the early levels as if it were still a kid. Yes sir

Ml-2 Core Metal Schematic

Claudio López Ríos

TO STALKING
skies I've only seen
green since I'm on the lookout
I do not see your fur
you are among bushes
now I feel your smell
the wind hits my face


Drops hunger cry my flesh torn
moisture on my legs
death
my back and go where you go


should be your or your stride with the wind free
though I walk
celere always escape from my clutches

Seven Suns I've poked
seven times I've seen you run a sacrifice
I ask to live

My blood is your blood
yours is made of green

my time is running out of moisture in my legs
death in my back
and where I'll go

In the river I said I found

am the last I heard you say: I am the last living is something strange

now I can not live without killing
I can not live on the run, mane
not feel death
growled nobody ever felt


jumped behind you I can not feed you
the sun gives you the strength
sun offered me your life
moisture in my legs
death in my mouth
and where will you take


banishes hunger hunger seven suns
returned with
death was our destiny: to live to die, die to feed
. You
were the last of my
I was the last of yours.
and we could not live.

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Vanessa Núñez Handal

A terrible penalty

was there before them. At last I could see them face to face.
lights flash cameras and photographers will not allow me to clearly see their faces. Furthermore, since the incident, my retinas were damaged and it takes focus, especially when there is light. Neither amounted to hear what they said, the rumble with me ever since. As the doctor told me not ever stop listening. But if I talk about, I have no trouble distinguishing the sounds.
remember hearing the explosion and then there was nothing but silence. An eerie silence, as if time had stopped. Would have wanted someone to talk, to tell me what happened. But there was nobody around me, only fragmented bodies, blood and skin on all sides. Spoils of bodies attached to the windows, like butterflies trying to fly away after the lights flickered on the station.
The silence began to break with moans, cries for help and screams. Then I realized I was alive. Felt suffocation and despair, had to get out.
The elderly lady whom I gave my seat in the South Station was now at my side. I knew it was her by the blue green bag, which was now soaked with blood on his lap. For other persons not met. I had never seen in my life and now shared with them the horror.
at that time I could not understand why it was the only one alive. In the hospital said one of the rescuers that the bodies of other people I had served as a barrier against splinters flew everywhere killing and destroying as many people who were in the same carriage as me.
Since then rebuilt in my head every moment of the explosion, everything I did and every one of the mangled bodies I saw that morning, trying to guess which of them saved my life.
After a few days in the hospital, I went home. It was then that I began to have nightmares and see people dressed in black who came, even awake. I should visit a psychiatrist for more than twenty months. He says that I'm recovered, but has not realized that the soul is all that ever will recover completely.
two months ago finally returned to my work. It is no longer the same as before he had, because my concentration has been reduced greatly. I can not move around by myself, and although life has given me a second chance, I frankly do not know what to do with it.
This day I got here brought by the national television channel. No doubt they intend to make me appear for all transmissions and capture my reactions to these four individuals who are currently judging.
But contrary to what I thought, do not be hate, pain and even restore life not had before. Although sometimes I miss, I think there is no way back. Then I analyze how much a victim in all this chaos. I think the closeness that they must have made the journey to these four for having to kill so many and be heard. What is a man when he runs out of options and despair increases swollen from hunger, injustice, pain and anger? What have I done to make their lives worthwhile not live it? This morning a journalist asked me how I felt towards those involved. I told her that a terrible punishment.

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Denise Phé Funchal

Women

I love using my instrument with you, woman. Love
when it makes its way through your flesh and allows me deep into your warm liquids.
remember being born, I remember the wrinkled face of the midwife, I remember the sounds of my mother to go into exile from his body. I remember the breasts flavored wood that fed me. I love your breasts
woman, see how the sweat of your neck goes through the nipples that harden to her touch. I love your moaning.
Mom worked in the kiosk. Stop all day, serving the men who came, gave him some money and asked him to feed them. Mom got into the house and left me sitting on the lap of the Rose. Your legs
woman, move under my body, I reject and pull me, trying to escape. I love the game of your body.
Mom said not to cry, she had to work that otherwise would not get anywhere. But we never moved. Your body
woman lying motionless on the grass. A tired breath out of your chest after wet dreams, and violent. You close your eyes, you want to sleep and I do not want. I want to keep talking.
Mom never spoke to me. Hardly remember his voice or his words. Mom screamed. All the while screaming. Even before his death did not stop me patojo ungrateful, andate, leave me alone. Vos
your weak beat, it seems that you want the same thing. Like she want me away, I go. Women. Women had to be.
bastard told me. Son of a bitch again and again. I had to stick to you to be quiet, just like her. Putting his hand over his mouth, so I do not remember it more. Son of a bitch.
Mom told me the day I killed her, just for you, that neither the son of a bitch deserved to be called.
I'll tell you other things mom, wife, and maybe a little understanding and come to love.

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JRenato Buezo

Utopia

If you ever sinned did distraction. Faced with this five-foot painting with both hands in his pockets, thinking the girl was playing Utopia to be the angel that awakens the senses, chills that ran from any point, and look beyond ran away to become in feathers and quetzales.

simplistic duality dreamed of being what he wanted and did not believe, and be what it was. The duality of the place and time, when he saw looming from the shore of the river when it was repeated many times fair in that painting. "Crossing the bridge from any reality to a future, thought on the hammock with your feet on the ground, and it seemed to go from here to there, it was venturing where there is something other than this side, where the huge mouth the dream was waiting with honey and arsenic, "orpiment, lemon sensation," he muttered as he finished swallowing the glass, even on the mouth. Berating saw her with a drink (a mixture of lemon, salt and alcohol) was not right, he could not, nor be introduced at the troubled deep breaths and soft image, wrapped in imperceptible roughness of children mixed with feminine sensuality always wanted and that was always unable to dream. That was the worst of the dualities, which perhaps led, unfair, all the above.

sipped all the way down the rest of lemon, and at the end of the shot glass grotesque struck him in the throat. I knew that this duality of women and girls could not exist in simple dimension survivor, a lover of anything, once thought a poem when someone borrowed the book from the Chilean forest. And he thought that was the prettiest part of his poem. But that part could not be written and so was thinking about the duality of the poem that did not fit in anywhere. "Alone in here, no good. The words should be written ", he told himself as his eyes, before oil, were watching him. He felt that look was the same painting: distracted, out of time lying on the sand where everyone walked. It was the fault that she realized. Then she saw him with discretion, and saw him draw on his body lying in the hammock the aroma of court that she felt on the skin. "Nothing like this can be for mess, she thought as she left barefoot to a nearby location, and from there he heard talking. The weather became a prank turns and voices, looks outside, far away. He closed his eyes engaging in a silence of stars where he could feel where she was waiting for him naked, winged, almost complete in the fabric of a star where the wind is a warm, moist sea seemed far away rough, was stealing the sipping thin oil knob dripping brush.

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Edwin Enrique Soria Júarez

Fractal

A fractal is a figure whose topological dimension is less than fractal dimension .

Through long corridors, looking doors. Each leads to dissimilar sites. Nothing seduces him with an expression of belonging.

The Open Door fed the feeling of emptiness and growing perennial antagonistically the idea of \u200b\u200bliving a dream. Decided to walk and do not open more doors. A very descriptive color, drew him. He caught the handle. He struggled to get pulled into them. She woke up. He became more than a line, but less an area, perhaps a little more than a sequence of points, but less than a line, and so, never escaped from the fractal geometry of nature.

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Vanessa Núñez Handal


Monotony

My eye can see on buildings, some covered with bricks and other concrete tiled buildings ... but in the end. In some people, people gathered, some working, others are just looking forward to bedtime. I see through a window a couple naked on a desk. Not give them importance. Scenes as these are common up here. windy and the breeze cooled my face. It might rain. cars passing below, with the mad rush that only gives the city. The light has stopped them. I think that the high lasts about thirty or thirty-two seconds. Now continue on their way crazy. A lot of pedestrians have difficulty crossing the street, they should build a walkway. I have read in a newspaper they would build one later this year ... What I do I care? Spend an ambulance making a deafening noise ... probably take someone to the hospital. Will an injured person with a heart attack or maybe dead? The cars away, more out of habit than out of consideration. I can see the faces of indifference of drivers and people walking around, and do not flinch at the misfortune of others. Nor does it matter much if the person who goes inside is dead or not. Ambulances have lost credibility. News also have been responsible for how are you numb to things. I think people are very interested also if they themselves are still alive. At least in my case. A bird perches on the branch of a tree planted in the street. He does not care what happens below. Picks his tail with his beak. Shakes. She looks at me strangely. Keep your flight indifferent. Far flies a strange flag ... a flag. But it flies so nice, like the flag that is at the center of the ring was at my house. That which seemed so large and until now I realize how small it was. Here the clouds are gray and smog can barely see the sky. Where I come from, are white clouds and blue sky makes them look soft and light. And if that flag is clear and falls on the sidewalk? Maybe then it would break a little weary of the poor people walking down there. The tip of an iron structure (perhaps "wanted" to be an imitation of the Eiffel Tower) overlooking between buildings. The carts down, and no one turns to see her. His base was spotted from the last protest of peasants. Tris check left the city. Likewise, the tower is held high, pretending to be useful to the world. In the end, a white light flashes rhythmically. It may be to indicate to aircraft landing nearby, they should not fall more than that ... No, a plane crash would be too. Just down the block from the side, there is a huge house with a large garden abandoned. You never see people. Only a small black-colored dachshund tail wagging walks through the garden. Every morning I see it. Comes to running, borders the empty pool and cracks of the old house, urine and reappears. He looks happy. Two vehicles have collided on the Avenue. Drivers hysterical down their vehicles and began arguing. From here, I saw clearly that the driver of the red car has been to blame. He ran high. They all go that high. Rarely seen. Is hidden behind a huge tree branches. Should prune. Maybe call the police. Has formed a huge queue of cars. I go whistling. Suddenly I do not argue. Delivered a little cards. Each one gets into his car and move on. The vehicle knot is undone. Too bad, maybe if they'd grabbed blows ... I see my watch. I notice that it is too late. Nearly five o'clock. If I trouble, I'll have to postpone everything until tomorrow again because the start time is at five and a half. Also, if I hurry, maybe scope to appear tomorrow in the newspaper. And is that a suicide always breaks up the monotony ...

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Denise Phé Funchal

The rain will wash, wash the memories,
drag the dead bodies .

The rain, washes
memory.
Finally you came you were gone,
finally left my body and you crawled.
rain.
Falls.
skins slide under clothing.

The rain falls and stop thinking about you.

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JRenato Buezo

An attempt to drop into oblivion dryness

Today I saw blue cards

Two water have become

Rain makes me happy and in the house is a marvel

My mother brought a basin blue and pewter pots private

After this battery smiled

In his world of dirty dishes

a bloody sheet

a village water pans adding

Collecting drops

is a blessing

-Mother says the girl who washes brandishing a blue pen

Today has been a revolution

Your people have risen against the boredom the kitchen

She smiled Ignoring all

Not daring to cry not.

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Claudio López Ríos

know his name

"No, I knew, but was cleared when they gave the order to bite the earth. " has changed everything around here. If it were not know to be the rain that has red earth would say that is blood. No doubt we are at peace. No one raises his voice or hand. Walk wondering what to do for this, what to do for that. We settled very easy without saying anything. Send us an office to another while asking Right here clears the name of the dead? "If I have thought for some time, why I do not remember your name?". At our hope if we found at least the dead to tell their death and stuff. There with rifles who killed them were buried without a name. They went first to dig the trench guns. You can see the future in the holes left where were the eyes. If you blow into the mouth begin to speak without rest until we kill or show them the guns. There are some very small they did not know his name but had to delete it. Is this where you delete the name of the dead? Yes, who is the dead? "yet and will use his last name." They swam to reach the surface, but did nothing to get out alive. A photograph will help him afloat in the depths of the earth into the air. Do not call them by name because I do not know if already died. then wait to die. "Oh, I forget the forgetting of your memory." hoped that they had forgotten. If we accept we are just bones with no name, but we can not believe that we embrace and mourn with their names. Perhaps not rain and blood, but our red eyes that keep our land. We rescued a memory whenever we delete a name, we are the air that enters the office and move the papers. If you are a ghost town chasing the dead to let us live the cart that are not using. If they knew that what happens is that is missing for twenty years. We can not bury him with papers. "I can not bury enterito as I knew." live scratching the earth and confusing our bones live with the bones of the dead. We always say that it is here where we can find. Neither the picture nor the language nor the traces of their teeth at that back. bring proof of the size of his teeth that he is buried or locked in the barracks. Someone came to our house either bolus. Somat the walls because I could not find the door. He removed his shirt when he saw us and gave us back. He was threatened with a machete to go away. We saw a scar on the back. Began to speak saying that the scar was a bite of my husband. When he spoke I recognized it was my brother. He said he could not take it anymore. He pulled out a gun and put it on the head. "I never met him until he gave the order to kill him. For twenty years I am thinking of deleting his name, but now you will you. Seen yet and will use his name. Oh, I forget the forgetting of your memory. You can not bury enterito how you met him, not to me. Out of my back scar and bring it to a judge. Tell him where exactly is to scratch the earth to find it, will draw more teeth other than kill. Take me back to match your teeth with the tracks. "

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Edwin Enrique Soria Júarez

P Utara (How to make a bonsai)

Prior to imagine how you want to accomplish in the model to work, if the image is not grotesque, you are dealing with a good potential. In principle it is to raise awareness of the importance of the specimen found in the minimization and pruning (excluding the term mutilation). It is recommended that the specimen has a high pain threshold.

has to take as a first step to turnstiles at the wrists and ankles. You can start removing fingers and later the foot. The cuts must be made at the junction of the phalanges with care.

For example, to cut between the phalanx and falangina, make a new tourniquet in the phalanx and cut at the junction with falangina. Remember that it is necessary to leave the same number of bones in each finger combinations can be full or left finger, in which case, for reasons of aesthetics and attractiveness requires the yolk removed it. After selecting the new size of the respective member and pruning, you must close the wound, preferably with absorbable sutures (auto-solvents), in which the Cat Gut Simple may be sufficient (natural braided fiber, formed from the submucosa of the intestines of sheep or cows, the literal translation of "gut" is "cat gut"). Gentian Violet then apply two percent mixed with demineralized water.

Pruning should of each limb should be spaced at least seventy-two hours to prevent bleeding of the fish; time, which must be kept high lightened member.

As a final recommendation not to use copies preferably having keloid or hypertrophic skin, as this detracts from the beauty end. Form new images and enjoy. Do not forget that the difference between pruning and maul is in art.