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My kingdom for a Friday, María del Carmen Cerezal

I, Robinson this my coral island, intricate mesh of words, I look Friday.

is that I sometimes narrow infimiza, mutates, since some of those used to form the I forgot my regret,

Other, ungrateful, it was they who were divorced me., but given its nature, survive on those found dead. Life is always imposed.

Help me find just those needed to paint emotions, places, events.

Teach me to catch you in my old fishing nets of infinite patience, thirsty Lookout successive horizons.

it be for you, Friday, understood and grasped each wave of words that come to you trying to be unpacked.

O that can both awaken your intrigue you decide to dive into my waters, land dug into my chest looking shackled behind these solitudes.

You will not find excessive wealth here, but some flocks of birds spotted, edges of butterflies in B flat, a unicorns galloping laughing waves or waves of vermilion sing song.

Yes, I agree to derretirte in the light of shooting stars, snowflakes gold, but it is imperative to understand that the only gems here are the sun, the moon, the breeze, the sea, yo. We are all and one.

ternuritas And when you need, I can entertain in ocher haze-Redon. If you're bored fabularé horrendous crimes, mysteries indescífrales, travel impossible terrors vanish before your child flicker.

My imagination is the cornucopia dump at the foot of your desire or the Hubble conqueror of black holes, due to the unfathomable, taking you to the edge. Your desire or mine, no matter the point of departure, arrival station is pleasure for both.

Do not worry the risk of losing me. All universes are out, but when they need it, I'll give you shelter and food, warm blue caves await your presence.

But pity solidarity, do not leave me abruptly without giving me a chance for her to be tiny.

fret not my looks stormy or dark sky: it's just a face of the flirt who seeks in love. However, utmost care with my volcanoes, the lava is not as stiff as it looks.

Unfortunately for this meeting of ours there is no polar star maps showing routes or recovered by buccaneers cheats.

I look expectantly to the siren songs do not you divert, without even a little peek into my recent summits, in my harbors to discover, because I work too much for me this nature will be attractive.

Tené mind that only yearn to be your Ithaca.

What To Wear Gym Swimming

Amelia Biagioni (1918-2000) Argentina, MANIFESTO

I resist,
on the streets of the hanged,

to obey the order to be lukewarm and cautious
of clinging to security
settling into the habit of wearing a watch
and serenity, adventure
a rope, and deadly pale
word
and eyes with limits.

I resist,
between the millstones of failure to obey the law
getting tired,
to resign,
to sit in the world fofo
languid dying of a sword, waiting
marasmus.

I resist, plagued by whistles
atrocious

to fate to shut myself up and lose the key or throw
the well.

With all spinal
up, I am the enormous fear, and I advance
,
without cause, absent

singing in

Skin Rash Growing Beard

Stories, Martha Claudia Goldin

Around

The sun falls itchy and burning asphalt.
Her gaze stops on the loose tile, crosses the lonely road, the branches of trees, their tops silky. Dizzy sucks air as your skin recognizes. My city says. And smile. Liliana
and Cristina come to me. We have nine years and a lot of work.
I accommodate my school bag on his shoulder, I say go with you. Look at me astonished, they think, oh, that suddenly grew up, I'm not who I am, this little girl with tears, the tears stop falling because my friends do not recognize me, still jumping rope, while I, stunned, Return to the door of my house, looking back the latch, so I press, I'm back in the unusual coolness of the hallway, the smell of jasmine fills me, the whole house is a jasmine that I received, and I throw myself into the arms of Mom, come my baby what's wrong? and I tell you, explain everything, but I'm the blonde baby girl a year and I just babble, and Mom takes me out of the cradle and pressed me against his chest while on the plane at Ezeiza, with my two children's hands after nine years in exile. I look at my city.
The sun falls sheer and asphalt burns. ___________________________________________________



Acevedo Street

It happened every time they skirted the Botanical. As if the brutal force pushing Acevedo walked into the street, looking with some difficulty the door and stood watching. Utime noticed this more often while drinking coffee at the bar Malabia. They asked him what happened. He jokingly commented that I saw happen with the baby in arms and child on a tricycle. Was a sad joke and felt like her voice broke. It was also true that more and more on those streets had the feeling of having just returned, as if the intervening years, the return from exile, will fade, and every new start.
No wonder the 70's was that of terror and the difficult return to mid 80's. That was not what she missed, no. But something happened. That morning, as usual, crossed the avenue. The sunshine of spring and the sky so blue. He felt almost happy. Thought it was good to approach the door, that nostalgia is always dangerous. Time flew. Let it go, he said. She stood near the entrance a long time. Behind the door he saw the moving back and forth and very young woman. He wore jeans and long hair. The baby slept. Beside the three year old son on a tricycle with a napkin in blue and white boxes tied to the handle. There goes the delicious apple is so fond thought. Looked away. Approach. For a moment he thought it would be best. Approaching, merging into a hug and pet. Followed. Passed them.
The mother took a bag of the net and bucket paddle, the ball of colored plastic and left to reach the boy and his friends approached. Gently cradling the baby.
not even look at me, I see. All this is mine, what grabbed me and I come back. l974. In a desperate I approached her. I hugged her, hugged her hard. Almost like a daughter.
We expect challenging times, I thought, very difficult. ____________________________________________________




The next room - Los Angeles

My room is 307. Very comfortable, has a balcony from which I can see the Pacific. In the 308 lives a woman who screams in a shrill voice and alguien.Todas fight night he heard the shots. She leaves and returns immediately. Kick the door with force.
-Open-cry-open, fuckyou. Someone
open and everything starts again. Sometimes they talk, they laugh. The voice of another man, thick and caressing. In the morning silence, as if in 308 the night had passed peacefully. Strange silence that reorders all when it begins to dawn and the first shadows waiting quietly. I tried in vain to know who is the male voice of the night.
lives alone, "says Ceci, the English used the hotel, which takes the opportunity to speak ill of the gringa .- take drugs, it takes a lot and when you bathe the room filled with talc. Just send him, living here for months. If not let it sleep, call the police,
I hate bright black eyes and brown skinned Latin girl.
And he goes, is to be her, dragging her cart down the hall linen.
I have offered to change rooms but I feel a slight fatigue, as if a force stopped me. However the noise of the 308 will feel tonight and it is. I begin to hear the soft, deep voice, laughter, shouts, the door is hit. Open
shouts of the 308 - Support
my ear against the thin wall, again opens the door,
- fuckyou-fackyou yells.
Again silence. I hope dawns early and go to your cart Ceci for clean rooms. -Ceci-
complain to see her attempt another sleepless night.
- Andele-Ceci smiles showing his white teeth, because two days ago that the room is empty. ____________________________________________________


The other street


"amid the roar of the fires

salt was walking among the stones" I



I'd find that street, I thought. The leaves of the trees were shaking like drops sometimes. Sometimes drops were running down her eyes. I'd find that street, I thought. And they were not just drops. Lightning and ran down his face because the street was she was looking away. It was not space but time and time contaminated.
I would find that street, I thought.


II
scent of jasmine and flooded everything.
time or space in which she was stripped of questions and found in the village, children ran at his side, playing with the little black dog.
Suddenly the street is lost. Children and dog flee through the air in Lima, blending with the scent of bougainvillea, still playing and laughing without it is also lost in space and time.
The old pavement of the city. And laughter are so remote, the honking and smells the sudden return to this side because it has lost the street, kids will be looking for and she does not know how to return.
If you close your eyes you may find that road again. Feel the gentle heat of the city that knows no wind, the leaves do not move here and jump back children and dog, she goes with their baguette under his arm, is young enough to feel beautiful on the street that smells like bougainvillea.
Hear the bells of the church Santa Maria, must come home because the oval is as close to Gutierrez, only through the side of the Huaca Juliana or go straight. Again, children and the dog away, she looks desperate directed to be heard barking and away, farther and farther away the barking, the laughter of children.
know you can not with the forces of time and space, which inexorably back to this one street where there are no children or dog or Huaca Juliana or baguette or bells. Only
horns in the big city where the dead roam free speech and the Mothers "are crazy "and temples are safeguarded with cement blocks and the voices of children, the barking dog, are in another street.

III

I'd find that street, I thought.
The wind began to shake all the street away and the laughter and the barking buscabalas the rose into the air, time and space to the street of death, where she ran with her children in their arms, bag full of diapers. One night in the street, many nights on that street. Death drives a green Falcon. Better to think about how to find another street, the Huaca Juliana, but she does not know how to get back.
If you close your eyes and the tears may stop running . Feel
and soothing heat of the city that knows no wind, the leaves do not move here

"walk often takes on the sidewalk
that trembles to the beat of hip" Look

running and jumping children and the dog, she goes with her baguette under his arm, heard the bells of St. Mary's Church, and will come home. But again
kids and dog away and directed her desperate search with the barking, heard as far away, infinitely far away.

IV

This street is heavily wooded. Early spring and makes a moist heat.
Now this street life continues. Nobody asks for that girl, for that child, for that drink. Life goes on this street, she does not know where to go, where each day will win a day after death.
This street is in the spring There is a very bright light and balconies florecenLa pasay people this is everyday life.
The orchard on the corner of the street sells fruit, flowers florist orders.
This street is in spring, moist air smells on the street where life goes on. This is called daily life, think. Review addresses, places distant friends, browse the newspaper announcing new "encounters" and new bodies.
There are still few and Mothers bodies have not gone mad.
Now this street is spring despite Yet she recognizes a beautiful spring. Square seen from afar, games, shovel and bucket, the street is a party.
She feels that the street is a party to the other and the city only hear the heartbeat of what we do not bother,
have to find another street, we must find the scent of bougainvillea, we must hear the sounds of the church Santa Maria and walk up the side of the Huaca Juliana
must return home.

V

Back home, think and where is the house of children and the puppy?
back home. He feels that the tidal waves away or the wind is raging again. But there is no wind, he says. Look at the sea, these waves that crash onto the shore, Pacific stands at times threatening.
She sees children playing running, laughing, arm their castles, sea and disarms the wet dream of sand. Come flailing
the embankments that protect the city blonde, towers, and walkways. Remnants are left in the sand, exposed to proximate and ultimate destruction, while the children and build another castle, other towers, other passages. There is so much life inside the castle.
There is so much life. VI



When they flee and come to another part, life is smooth even with its hardships. She opens a window on the street unknown. This quiet, the leaves do not move. Feel strange. But life is
soft when the horror left behind and the kids complain, soft life to soothe the wounds claims he has recovered his air parcel elsewhere

"
jasmine in her hair and pink in the face" She opens a

window, gets life Have I found that street?

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Culinary Flavors


Between 1799 and 1804, the researcher and Alexander von Humboldt German noble toured various kingdoms and American territories at that time belonging to the English crown.

The purpose of these voyages, made with the endorsement of the English King Carlos IV, was to make a detailed record of the nature, society and economy in the English colonies.

real support was pivotal to access privileged files and fonts. But in few places like New Spain had so readily German local authorities to get into the dynamics of the viceroyalty.

One result of this visit to Mexico was the vast territorrio Political Essay on the Kingdom of New Spain, where in addition to geography and local economy, entered various aspects of the food issue.

Baron von Humboldt repeatedly ponders the bounty of land from Mexico. Is immense, he says, the variety of indigenous productions, and that there is little in the rest of the globe a plant that can be grown in New Spain.

"The main objects of agriculture are not those objects to which Europeans have been variable and arbitrary value, but cereals, nutritious roots and maguey, which is the vineyard of the Indians. The main sources of wealth of the kingdom of Mexico is not in the mines, but in agriculture, "he adds.

adds that more openness and social policy would parallel a further rise in the agricultural platform of the Viceroyalty, however commended the interest there is for this activity, including mining boom areas, guaranteeing that, in his view, the permanence of prosperous cities, despite the possible decline in mining.

"In Mexico the best cultivated fields, those who remember the most hemosas countryside of France, are the plains that stretch from Salamanca to the vicinity of Silao, Guanajuato, and the town of Leon, "he says.

other hand, notwithstanding its alleged scientific objectivity, no longer marvel at the regional customs and diets, spending such a vast consumer reflection of bananas in the tropics.

"The banana is for the inhabitants of the torrid zone the same food as the grass [...] for Western Asia and Europe.

Americans with this fruit make a nice healthy meal, either before or after their maturity. [...] The natives make a complete meal with a tiny portion of cassava and three large breed bananas.

The ripe fruit, sun-dried figs preserved as our, the skin turns black, and acquires a particular smell like perfumed ham. The past is called banana traded in Michoacan, "notes Von Humboldt.

German Baron continues to recognize, as so many travelers of the time, the potential of the Mexican countryside, and even suggests that it is the basis for development of the nation-wide point of reflection in modern times.

"Mexicans now have all the vegetable plants and fruit trees in Europe. The Central Bureau of New Spain with a lot of wealth produced cherries, plums, peaches, apricots, figs, grapes, melons, apples and pears.

"In the vicinity of Mexico, in the towns of San Agustín de las Cuevas, Tacubaya, the famous garden of the Carmelite convent in San Angel, in June, July and August there is a myriad of fruits, most exquisite taste though are generally poorly maintained. One admires the traveler to see [...] the tables provided at the same time the fruit of temperate Europe and sapodilla, mamey, guava, custard apple and other precious products of the torrid zone, "he stresses. Sharper
can
be the reflection when he distinguishes the rise of the sugar sector, aiming, among other things, that "the cultivation of sugar cane made such rapid progress in recent years, today sugar exports through the port of Veracruz over 50 thousand quarters. In 1553 the abundance of sugar was already so considerable that was exported from Veracruz and Acapulco to Spain and Peru. "

Also interesting is the valuation made of cocoa, very important in Mexico, he says, in times of Moctezuma.

"Mexicans prepared a drink called chocolatl, which mixed with cocoa a little corn flour, vanilla and fruit a kind of pepper.

"They knew also reduce the chocolate tablets, and this art as well as the instruments that were used to grind cocoa, and even the word chocolatl, have moved from Mexico to Europa.Esto increases the more the admiration when you see today cocoa farming is almost totally neglected, "says Von Humboldt.

deserve Point and vanilla products such as Veracruz and Oaxaca, which at the time of the historian was present at the European table.

"In Misantla, Veracruz, vanilla is arranged in bundles. There are four types of vanilla: fine, which distinguishes the large fine and thin girl, or dumbbells; the grass, the rezacate and garbage; easy to recognize in Spain for the manner in which the decks are attached.

"Likewise, Teutila village in Oaxaca is famous for the excellent quality of vanilla produced by its immediate forests," raves Von Humboldt.

Apart from the economic assessment, the German noble family recognizes more merit, as the quality of hams produced in the central highlands, in the Toluca Valley, or the fact that New Spain be the direct provider the largest and most useful of domestic gallinaceous, turkey, or turkey or totol read.

A toast future field keeps drinks special consideration for the researcher. Makes a consideration of the various fermented to produce, but devotes a long paragraph to the issue of pulque, which recognizes a product linked to an idiosyncratic and characteristic values.

"The pulque agave plantations date back to antiquity such as the Aztec language. The Europeans have managed to overcome the disappointment caused by their smell prefer to any other drink pulque, and consider it your stomach, invigorating and above all very nutritious. Those who boast of knowing speak with enthusiasm of pulque made in Ocotitlán near Toluca ", distinguishes Von Humboldt, in an extensive apology to drink.

An interesting aspect is the projection that makes the wine industry, most punished in colonial times.

"During my stay in Mexico, the viceroy received a court order commanding start the strains of the vineyards in the northern provinces of Cádiz [...] because they complained of decrease in wine consumption in Spain

"In the current state of affairs, the winery can hardly be counted among the wealth of Mexico is so poor harvest. The best quality of grapes is in Zapotitlan in Oaxaca. There are also vineyards near Dolores and San Luis de la Paz, north of Guanajuato and the Provinces near Parras and the Paso del Norte "he says.

However, despite the generality of their findings, dares to envision better expectations for products such as olives, grapes and wine.

"The analogy is noted between the climate of the high plain of Mexico and Italy, Greece and southern France, Mexico should encourage the cultivation of olive trees, already successfully tested at the beginning of the conquest but the government, an unfair policy, far from encouraging, have sought to prevent rather indirectly.

"They complain that the grape is harvested in the highlands fermented hard, and have been mixing syrup with grape juice, which gives a [....] aftertaste must at Mexican wines, which would not have if examined further the art of making wine. When a force of years the New World Productions wants to dispense with the Old, hilly and temperate regions of Mexico, Guatemala, New Granada and Caracas will supply wine to all of North America, "says Von Humboldt.

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Paul Von Humboldt and the cooks


Through its Flavors of Mexico program, broadcast on Channel 11 morning bar, the chef Pablo San Román has been able to show the face of traditional cooks of Mexico, exposing the richness of these characters which are based livelihoods and the preservation and enforcement of the culinary traditions of our country.

Since its restaurant Designation of Origin (DO), Paul has kept the capital's culinary gateway precepts and vibrancy of English cuisine essences supported and governed by the quality of the ingredients and seal, as far as is practicable , authenticity indicating the territorial and signature of master craftsman. However

San Román effort is not limited to be encapsulated in its enclosure the ideal food of the Iberian cuisine. Denomination of Origin extends a dialogue with the nation that houses and makes the traditional Mexican cuisine your reliable partner in a task where two cultures come fully strengthened.

San Román has been able to show through his journalism on television culinary facets of a noble, loving, based on memories and experiences, the testimonies and stories of women who have preserved a cultural heritage work from day to day where the wit and eloquence, but also the conviction of carrying an ancestral heritage, exceed a daily routine often dominated by economic hardship, where intelligence is the essential ingredient of a philosophy of life.

Beyond the visual evidence, in Flavors of Mexico research work has prevailed San Román and weight of oral testimony as a knowledge base and continuity. In a year where they are most frequent words and drabs, San Román has been able to speak with humility and respect towards the women who preserve the wisdom of living in an exercise that never loses sight of the connection to nature and the legacy of ancestors.

"They have to look for the chefs to understand the traditional Mexican cuisine. We do not have much to say about the knowledge that these women display. Are they to what we turn to the idea of \u200b\u200blearning, with humility, the secrets that represents and supports the authentic Mexican cuisine " San Román said.

keeping with this philosophy, Basque-born chef Michoacán visited a few days ago, specifically on Palm Sunday in the Plaza de la Ranita, where traditional cooks Meseta Purépecha present and sell their traditional dishes in a festival linked to ancient celebrations of Holy Week. It was, as it were, a return to basics, the principles of the epic media, informational, cultural, that today represents the traditional cuisine in the framework of the UNESCO recognition.

is the same party every year, but its meaning and significance are not the same, as the figures of these Women today are already a culture icon, and not merely a decorative element that many were accustomed to seeing. Today Benedicta and Juanita Alejo Bravo are masterpieces and traditional cooks, and have the moral authority to call attention to some other cook in the hearth smoke bothers the concurrent, or the attire of some of the young people involved in the work lacks culinary cleaning and grooming it deserves the job.

San Román's encounter with the cooks was more than the meeting of two ways of expressing the cuisine as a common, life essence and identity. It was, as the chef himself remarked on the meeting with the dignity and pride of a culture, as well as the value of land as indisputable source of healthy eating and honest.

The flavor of the tortillas of the Purépecha was highlight of this appointment where the chef admitted that the real gourmet who appreciates is not foie gras, but also the values \u200b\u200bof eloquence and significance of food as essential as a prepared with corn tortillas. The true gourmet is also a prophet in his land.

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Ainchil, I believe and I do not

I think not. As an aesthetic contradiction
world

enraged that exaggerated shadows interview
or itineraries that never keeps
case.
then the will of the butterfly
circular perspective, so hurry momentary silence
grotesque
contexts
indecipherable in the soul rare mad grammar

I saved every mob claiming to be that air is crowded with words

motionless when they should be thunder
and tsunami that extinguishes the calm of the desert.
Are you nursing in a body at night?
How to get the line that divides the wind?. Take the sentence
dragged
always look and find nothing
shore.
Flies.
at least I hope I'm on the verge
that anything which I accept

by inducing certain karmas trumpet cramped in the veins. Go

eyed abyss fingering pierced cliffs
iris black eyes are not on the screen guard

illiterate little ones are not aware the meaning of human reproduction
opacity perhaps perhaps.
My gaze beyond me.
believe and not believe in the words

them rotated 180 degrees and return them

evoke and sometimes do not find me.

To read more poems by Claudia

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Susana Szwarc, jasmine About

that many, many, whether we like the jasmine is a thing known. But I gave the neighbor jasmine platform and one of his daughters said, "what foul odor." From that day this girl I like horrible, so do as I do not see, not see it. The climate was tense with neighbors, neither hot nor cold, ever.

I said, trying not to smoke, there is another, sometimes, to adhere to fashions. Many people had stopped smoking and cigarette butts found it was becoming difficult. I heard about a free course and I enrolled. We had to write why we would stop smoking. I thought, I thought, that I turned from side to side of the sidewalk, got out and climbed the stairs to the subway a lot of times and could not find a completely valid reason. Until I found two. But I thought it was really important, and I said so in the course: it would be able to reveal the absence of cigarette butts. I do not think

captured neither the doctor nor the fellow students the seriousness of my sentence because they laughed as if he had, me, a good joke. I liked to laugh. When he was a joke did not get the laughter of others but the point is that the time had come jasmine. I looked at the bouquets, the smell, not to mention the phrase the girl next door, and then slowly without being seen, he took a piece of petal and chewed as a gum, swallow it like candy. Entertained me so that I forgot to smoke. However, it was December, and so I thought at first, heat, intense heat, began to wrap me in a kind of sleep, drowsiness, mist. I slept.

I told a friend:

"I sleep anywhere.

- You think you're depressed?

I do not know, "You think I am?

"I'm worried, and began the other, other.

- And?

He committed suicide.

I imagined a huge table. No, better a huge park bench, even a kind of global bank where the exhausted, overwhelmed war, secrets, despair, homelessness, incurable injury, stayed still, sitting or even suicide.

"But I did not think about suicide, I just want to sleep.

- Do you do some weird stuff? "Different?

I did not say he ate jasmine petals.

I think not.

- Do you dream?

"Almost no, but the other day I woke up counting syllables in words famine, exodus, and addictions as I laughed.

"Sounds serious. If I were you I call the suicide hotline number.

And that just gave me a phone number.



Having a toll free number, a number to call without worrying about the pulse, is actually one of the many gifts of the system. I liked that word and tried to use it every chance possible. As soon as I was alone, I found a pay phone and dial 0, 800 and those who followed. I waited. A voice said, I do not remember if "hello" or "good afternoon", did not give him time to ask something because I said my phrase repeated many times this last time: I want to sleep.

From the other side who listened to my two words meant that they made a detour, he thought I spoke of eternal sleep.

- How will you sleep? He asked, neutral, serious.

was not very comfortable speaking from this phone now that it had started raining.

- Do you think they will let me speak from a booth?

"Sure. He said the bomber called to help.

But I did not call. I was encountering a lot of acquaintances who, like me, wanted to protect all the rain.



I called the next day. It was the same voice, then cut.

For days, at different times, tried at the toll-free until the voice reappeared.

's me, "I said you want to sleep.

-You are not the only one. We

amused. Anyway, the recovered neutral-tone serious and insisted:

- How will you sleep? -Emphasized the "you."

He still believed that I was the action causing sleep. I wanted to taste.

"So I said. And I closed my eyes.

"Wait, do not. Call to speak, not to sleep. Would

reason? Were you looking for that voice to speak or to listen to my dream?

I lowered my eyes and call center space in that little space where smoking was prohibited, I found half a cigarette. I hid under my foot.

The silence was long.

- Are you there?

Why should we phrase this together? I was in this area without jasmine. Would landscape in the place of help?

- Are there windows where you work? -

"Yes, you see a piece of heaven. It seems that there are no clouds.

I was sad that someone would be so alone for hours watching a part of the sky without any certainty of rain or sun. It was logical that the aid would also like to sleep.

had to invent a landscape.

"From here we see a very green tree, if it continues to look very far reached an all purple jacaranda. There was a bird, a lark, I think. He sang for days on the green tree, an ash, until another bird approached him. They love their game. And the singer, stopped singing. Silent stand there as if waiting, and the other bird arrived, the wings of the two on display. Although since the big rain left the tree. They went well, without warning.

Then I realized I had started with the best intentions, to help invent a landscape of film and now he was telling a little sad. But he was not scared.

"The birds do not talk," he said.

"Sure, but would warn me somehow. Any noise, any movement for me.

-you did not know that the looked.

His reasoning I was irritated. The parlor of looked at me, abusive, use a cab for free.

"I have to go," I said.

"So, until tomorrow.

's voice was neutral, I would like slumber. I had forgotten half a cigarette in the parlor. I did not dare to return. I decided not to seek butts for a while. I went to the Silvia, you might have something to eat. In this way threshold to threshold, I was born a big laugh, I like listening laugh. Had wanted to call help to give some of that sound. But he preferred to linger, have something to miss. And maybe he had begun to wonder.

I had to laugh thinking that we would die excess smoke. A few would say starving. No, nobody would say anything. No talk, no talk. No goodbyes, like birds.

I came into the macdonald. This was the bathing place was closer to Silvia. There we could cool, be calm. There was this horrible sign "bath for exclusive use of customers." But people who walk into a bar and a coffee, are the customers?, Are they not, for a while, people in that place? Talk, read, write on paper napkins, look through the windows, some even carry a bouquet of jasmine.

The tour around the macdonald up the bathroom, I found a balloon loose, lost. I looked for the owner of the balloon. Nobody seemed to find it. I was taking with his foot.

was Silvia. And there was the Romanian with his son. The balloon was perfect. The Romanian wore beautiful dresses she had brought from there, sometimes lent us clothes and wore their best. We knew little about it. She taught at home. We had nothing else. Sometimes we read poems, read them first in Romanian. To listen to music, he said. Then, with a special tune, changed the language. I had my choice, I had memorized: "The dream and the awakening" Nichita Stanescu. The next day I told the help:

"We confessed facing each other / the most hidden secret: that we exist ... / But it was night and, alas, in the morning, terrible discovery, / I had woken up with temple on you, / yellow sheaf, wheat. / / And I thought: My God, / what kind of bread I'll be / I / and for whom? / /

I liked him as much as me.

Susana Szwarc Quitilipi born in the province of Chaco, in 1952. Published:

sleep Artist (1981)
separate As (1988)
Braids (1991)
steppes Bailen (1998)

received the "Award for Unpublished Poetry Municipal Single" (1994-1995).
In 1996, part of the cycle Poetics Stevenson; to hear it read, click here .

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Microstories, Susana Cattaneo

cheap wine is an immoral helps to blur your face that never stops hitting the dark side of me. A blue ribbon across my ward and my mouth is filled with the vile insects that gnaw your memory.
In the corner, the desolation is in pain group and a stale sleeping in doorways.
Now I've forgotten. Now all boats crossing Finistère agonizing carry a burden of sadness. Now I do not remember how our words when making love.
cheap wine closes my thoughts and a tart sweetness mixes air and night. Where your face from snow? The poetry of your lips, where? There is a bitter tenderness locked in my hands. A tunnel of moisture from inciting bee. A sun shower at the end of misery.
Silence plunges a sword lips closed. Of looks in a conviction. Threaded blame for not having touched your hands unreal. Not having shouted love while giving you all my tears.
cheap wine across the sun the first day I saw you. The leaves turn gray days. And I love you.

Witch. The one that haunts me the closets of two centuries. The ragged sweet and mischievous.
She who sleeps on my nails attacking my blood. The gray and sharp cheekbones. The one that looks like an angel anointed madness.
sometimes share my pillow. Further, we make love. Hell groans from all choked with pleasure.
is honey sour your mouth and your fingers burn with cold.
Witch. Tireless, faithful companion of life.
tonight I toast to never regret being there for me.
Finally, I understood: life, a perpetual lust in his arms fire

This is my exile. It is a country called Saturday. Bone is dark tonight with no your hands. It is my exile of you, a hug than ever. It is the place of the single, those who leave for wet tunnel of sadness. Soles of mourning on the walls. Saturday
country. With clubs away. Souvenir puppets mingle in my mind as the night progresses.
This is my exile. Nothing here, no place to put this breeze, this bitter fall, this garden of lightning .. Lint
a Saturday and all Youth in exile.

Susana Cattaneo

Psychologist and author based in Buenos Aires, has published 20 books of poems, some prose poetry. He has written stories and micro-stories. Won numerous awards including the National Honor Gaza Argentine Writers (ADEA). It is considered one of the founders of the Museum of Manuscript Poetry in Carolina, San Luis. Participated in national and international anthologies and was sworn in several competitions.
paper edits the magazine "Foreign to the weather"

The image has been extracted from Internet

Genital Wart Removal Recovery Freezi

Route of Don Mateo

sustained work looking for a position in the national mezcalero market, as well as obtaining the Denomination of Origin, has been the priority of a group of producers from Michoacán, in the same way that many of Oaxacan peers have opted for quality as the only way to continue a tradition, opening more options for sustainability and strengthen a tradition to drink the onslaught of marketing opportunism and abuse. Similarly

many Oaxacan opposed an official standard fickle and willing, the people of Michoacan is betting on the creation of 100% agave mezcal, made from a traditional ethical principle not only measurable in the case of this distillate, but other alcoholic beverages made under this principle of professionalism.

A few minutes from Morelia, breaking new living spaces, and sites Jesus del Monte and San Miguel del Monte, three points are particularly relevant mezcal production: Lumbre Rocks, Agua Dulce and Tumbisca. There is a lot of distance from the urban area, however very soon a rough dirt road leads to the producers pockets nestled in the woods.

These communities have a tradition of close to 400 years in the production of mezcal. We follow the path, stumbling around in the 4x4 literal, down to the property where mezcal is produced "Don Mateo de la Sierra" Vieyra family manufactured by: Emilio Vieyra Rangel, Rangel Sergio Rangel Vieyra and Joel Vieyra.

mark "Don Mateo de la Sierra" honors one of his ancestors, who was one of the pioneering producers of mezcal in the mountains of Michoacan. The "Vinata" or distillery Emilio Rangel Vieyra is a few kilometers ahead of San Miguel del Monte, before reaching the community of stones of fire. The

Vieyra, along with other small businesses, mezcal produced in the traditional way in different communities, each in its own Vinata. The Agricultural Producers Association of Southern Morelia maguey integrates 40 maguey and mezcal producers of various communities in the municipality: The Guayabito, Agua Dulce, El Ranchito, El Paramo, Lumbre Stones, The Paddocks, Peña Water Tumbisca; and the Municipality of Charo: Buena Vista, Agua Canyon and Foundations.

This Association made seed collections of wild agave seedlings in a nursery located in Water Peña two years ago. The care is the responsibility of all producers, labor and costs shared equally. Annually, almost 80 000 breeding agave plants on land reforested family or hired.

After touring the facilities, and to the enjoyment of good mezcal and local dishes such as the melting pot, the plump beans, pickles, boiled beans and Cotija cheese, fresh water without missing the blackberry, explains Emilio Don Mateo de la Sierra is one of the brands belonging to the Union of Mescalero Siku, business proposal aims to pursue excellence, under the line of providing quality cut and break the negative image of mezcal, driven largely by the adulteration and the pitfalls of many producers at the time of production, using the ever-dreaded "tails" and "heads."

association's project began with an initial investment of 60 thousand dollars and it took about four particular months, however gradually has been successful in marketing the drink, while they have made important links with communities other states, like Oaxaca.

The goal, says Emilio, is to learn more and to optimize processes, open new markets and work tenaciously to achieve the PDO. Similarly there is a total commitment to the community and the environment, so that the natural heritage is richer, the same way that producers can obtain more satisfactions.

A good mezcal is always welcome. Under this nature full of flavor, where the notes of wood and corn heighten the sensory delight, one sees the enthusiasm of a community that sustains its advance mescal on teamwork and trust that in doing the job ethics and professionalism with good results.

Month Old Baby With Flem

The party in the garden, Katherine Mansfield

And, after all, the weather was ideal. If they had custom
not another day would have been perfect for the garden party. No wind,
warm, the sky without a cloud. As happens at the beginning of summer, a haze of pale gold
watched, just blue. The gardener had been up since dawn, mowing the lawn and
sweeping up the grass and roses
flat and dark where they had been the margaritas seemed to shine. As for the
roses, there was no denying that they understood that roses are the only flowers that impress
people at a party in the garden, the only flowers that all interested
. Hundreds and hundreds. literally
had opened in the night, the green bushes were bent as if it were for
visited archangels.

had not finished lunch when the men came to lift the
marquee.

- Mom, where to put the marquee?

"My dear child, it is useless to ask. I decided that this year, girls
take care of everything. Forget that I am the mother. Treat me as a guest of honor
.

But Meg could not watch the men. Before lunch was washed the
head, and sat drinking coffee, wearing a green turban, with a dark wet curl
stuck on each cheek. Jose, the butterfly, I used to go down with
only a green sheen over his kimono.

"You have to go, Laura, you who are artistic.

There was Laura, with her bread and butter on hand. It's so delicious
find an excuse to eat out, and also loved to fix things;
found he could make them both better than anyone else.

Four men in shirt sleeves were together in a garden path. They had stakes
covered with rolls of cloth, and large toolboxes to
back. Were impressive. Laura would have liked not to have that piece of bread and butter
in hand, but neither had to put it, or it could swallow whole
. She blushed and tried to look very serious and a little short sighted
when he approached them.

"Good morning" he said, imitating the voice of his mother.

But it turned out so horribly concerned that he was ashamed, and stammered like a little girl
.

- Oh, you come ...! Is it by the Marquee?

"Yes, ma'am," replied the highest of all, a skinny guy, freckled, switching sides
your toolbox, throwing back his straw hat and smiling
.

"It's for that.

His smile was so spontaneous, so friendly, that Laura said. What beautiful eyes
had! Small, but a blue so dark! Others looked
also smiling. Seemed to say: Cheer up, we're not going to eat! What workers
so cute! And what a beautiful morning! But he did not mention the morning
should be a business person: the marquee.

"Well, what do you think that solid lilacs? Will it serve? He pointed

massif lilac hand had no bread and butter. It
turned and looked. One of them, short and fat, he pulled his lower lip, and the highest
frowned.

I do not like, "he said. It is quite important. Know, being a marquee
-and turned to Laura, you have to put in a place where
take a hit in the eye, so to speak.

Laura was left wondering if there was a lack of respect in a worker
talk of a coup in the eye. But he understood very well.

-A corner of the tennis court, "he suggested. But the band is on another corner
.

-Hum, are you going to have a band? Asked another of the workers. Was a pale.
had a fierce look, while her dark eyes measured the tennis court.
What would you think?

- Only a small band, "said Laura gently.

If the band was small, it may not seem wrong. But the tall man interrupted
.

"Look, lady, this is the place. Along with those trees. Up there. There
be fine. Alongside

Karak. Karakas would thus hidden. And they were so beautiful, with its broad leaves
flashing, and yellow clusters.
trees were like a desert island, proud, solitary, lifting their leaves and
sun fruit in a kind of quiet splendor. Should I hide the marquee?

And hide. And the men had loaded the poles and were fixing
the site. Only the high left behind. He bent down, pulled a stick of lavender,
She took her thumb and forefinger to his nose and inhaled the perfume. When Laura saw
gesture, forgot the Karakas, in his astonishment that the man she liked one thing
well, he liked the scent of lavender. How many men whom she knew
had done such a thing? Oh, how nice are the workers! Why could not have friends
workers instead of the stupid boys who danced with
and coming to dinner on Sunday? Be understood so much better with men. They

fault, decided at the time that the tall man
drew something in the back of an envelope, which should be lifted or being hung-
these absurd class distinctions. Well, for her part, she did not feel. In most
least not an atom ... And now comes the tap-tap of hammers. One of the men whistled
, another sang, "You okay there, buddy?" Comrade! The
companionship, ... the ... To test how happy he was and show people how comfortable high
felt, and how much he despised stupid conventions,
Laura gave a big bite of his bread and butter, while watching the cartoon.
It felt like a small working.

- Laura, Laura! Where are you? The phone, Laura! Cried a voice from the
home.

- Coming! "And he ran on the grass, down the path, climbed the stairs
crossed the terrace and came to the porch. In the hallway, his father Lorenzo
were brushing their hats ready to go to the office.

"Look, Laura," said Lorenzo with a hurry, you could check my dress for later. Look
if you do not need a belly flop.

- yes!

suddenly could not stop. Lorenzo ran into and gave him a slap.

- Oh! I love the holidays, do you? "Murmured Laura.

"Pretty," said Lorenzo with his warm voice of a boy and pinched his sister
giving it a shove. Quick, phone, dear.

Phone. Yes, yes, oh yes! "Kitty? Good morning, dear. Are you coming to lunch?
Yes, dear. Encantada. Will be a light meal: the remains of sandwiches and
meringues and some other thingy. Yes, God is not a day? Is white? Oh, surely
! One moment, have the tube. Call me. "And Laura sat back. What,
mom? I can not hear.

The Mrs. Sheridan's voice floated down the stairs.

"Tell him to bring this delightful hat he used on Sunday.

Mother says you wear that hat you wore on Sunday delicious. Well. At one
. Goodbye. Laura

hung up, raised his arms over his head, made a
deep breath, stretch and dropped. Ugh, sighed, and then it sat
. She stood still, listening. All doors of the house seemed
open. The house was alive with incessant rapid footsteps and voices.

green baize door that led into the kitchen opened and closed with a dull murmur
. Now he was a sound absurd, chuckling. The piano was so heavy
stiff dragged on its wheels. And what air! If you stop to think
will the air always like this? Soft breezes chased out and up there in
windows. And there were two sun-faded, one in the pipeline, another in a silver frame
, playing well. Delicious wilted, especially
cie ink cap. It was almost hot. A warm silver star. Felt like
kiss her.

rang the doorbell and heard crackling Sadie print dress by
ladder. A man's voice murmured, Sadie said, without interest:

"I tell you do not know. Wait. I will ask Mrs.

- What's up, Sadie? Laura asked, entering the hall.

"It's the florist, miss.

And there it was. At the door wide open, had a tray full of pots
beach with pink lilies. Nothing more. Nothing but lilies, irises, lilies
large pink flowers, very open, bright, terribly alive
on their shiny red stems.

- Ooh, Sadie! "Said Laura as a whimper. He bent down to warm in the glow of lilies
, the felt in his fingers to his lips, growing in
his chest.

-Must be a mistake, "he said softly. Not many have asked.
Sadie, go and find my mom.

At that moment Mrs. Sheridan arrived.

"Okay," he said quietly. Yes, I ordered them. Are not they divine?

pressed Laura's arm.

-spent by the florist yesterday, and saw in the window. And suddenly it occurred to me
once in life would all like lilies. The party at
garden was a good excuse.

"But I heard you say that you would not intervene.

Sadie had gone. Man of Flowers returned to the truck, Laura
surrounded the neck of his mother with one arm and slowly, very slowly, bit his ear.

-vidita, you do not want to have a mother logical, right?

"Do not do that. Here is the man. He brought even more

lilies, another tray full.

-Dispose near the entrance, please, to the sides of the porch, "said Mrs.
. Do not you think, Laura?

"Oh, yeah, Mom.

In the classroom, Meg, Jose and little Hans had succeeded, at last, change the site
piano.

"Now, if we put this chest against the wall and take everything but
chairs, is not it?

"Well.

-Hans, take those tables the smoking room, and come to sweep to remove these marks
carpet y. .. one moment, Hans ...

José likes to give orders to the servants, and they liked to obey.
I did think that taking part in a drama.

"Tell mother and Miss Laura to come soon.

"Very good, Miss Jose.

turned to Meg. "I

see how the piano sounds, if someone asks me to sing this afternoon.
Let's try: "This life is sad."

Pom. Ta-ta-ta! The piano rang out with such fury that Jose changed color.
clasped hands. They felt sad and puzzling to his mother and Laura as they entered.

This life is tris-te,

A tear ...

A sigh. cam-bia love

This life is tris-te

A tear ...
sigh
A love that cam-bia,

And then ... Bye

But the word "goodbye", and although the piano was more desperate than ever, his face lit
with a bright smile, terribly unpleasant.

- Am I on vocals, Mommy? She smiled.

This life is tris-te,

The hope comes to die.

A dream ... an awakening.

But Sadie interrupted the song:

- What's up, Sadie?

"Please, lady, the cook asked if the lady has those cards
sandwiches.

- cards for the sandwiches, Sadie? "Echoed Mrs. Sheridan
almost absent. The daughters

realized that it did not.

"Let's see," he said to Sadie firmly, tell the cook
that take ten minutes. Sadie

disappeared.

"Well, Laura," said the mother quickly, "come with me to the smoking room.
I have the names out there, written on the back of an envelope. You'll have to copy them. Meg,
up and then take off the wet rag head. Jose, runs
dress on the spot. Girls do you hear me, or I shall tell your father when you return home tonight
? Y. .. and Jose, if you go to the kitchen is calm the
cook, will you? I was terrified this morning.

the end, was found behind the clock on the dining room, although Mrs.
Sheridan did not realize how he got there.

"One of you must have taken from my wallet, because I remember perfectly
... cheese and lemon curd. Did you write that?

"Yes.

-egg y. .. "Mrs. Sheridan reached out and pulled the envelope. It seems
mouse, but can not be, right?

-Olives, darling, "Laura said, reading over his shoulder.

"Of course, olives. What a terrible combination: eggs and olives!

finally ended, and Laura took them to the kitchen. There she met Jose
calming the cook, who seemed terrifying.

I've never seen such exquisite sandwiches, "said Jose, ecstatic voice.
How many kinds are there? "Fifteen?

"Fifteen, Miss Jose.

"Well, congratulations.

The cook away crusts of bread slicers, and smiled with satisfaction.

-house have been announced Godber, Sadie, out of the pantry, I saw
man from the window.

That meant that they had reached the cream cakes.

Godber was famous for its cream cakes. Nobody thought to make them at home
.

-Bring and put on the table ordered the cook.

Sadie brought them and returned to the door. Of course Laura and Jose were too
Big Ones to deal with these things. However, they could not deny that
were very good. A lot. The cook began to fix them, shaking them
excess sugar.

- Do not you bring a memory of all events past? "Said Laura.

"I guess so," said practical Jose, who did not like to remember.
seem light and feathery, admittedly.

"Take one each, dear," said the cook in a gentle voice.
Mom will not mind.

"Impossible, cream cakes so following lunch!, The very idea makes
shudder.

But two minutes later Jose and Laura were licking their fingers with that absorbed air
it only gives the Chantilly cream.

"Let's go to the garden by the back way," suggested Laura. I want to see how they
men with the marquee. They are so cute!

But the back door was blocked by cook, Sadie, Godber
man and Hans.

Something happened.

-Tac-tac-tac-clucked like a chicken the cook scared.
Sadie had a hand clutching his face as if they hurt the teeth. Hans's face was puckered
in an effort to understand. Only Godber dependent
seemed happy. It was he who had the thing.

- What, what happened?

"A horrible accident," said the cook, a man died.

- one dead! Where, when?

dependent Godber But would not lose his account. - You know, Miss,
those houses down there? Do you know? "Of course, she knew them. Well, there lives a boy
road, called Scott. His horse shied
this morning from a truck, and threw him headfirst into the corner of Hawke Street. Killed him.

- Dead! , And Laura looked at the man in amazement.

"I was dead when I got up," the man with relish.
carried the body to the house when I came.

And to the cook: "Let

a woman and five children.

-Jose, come here.

sister Laura took her by the arm and led her through the kitchen
across the green baize door. He leaned against it.

-Jose, "said horrified are we going to suspend the preparations?

- Sleep, Laura! Jose shouted shocked. What do you mean? Suspend

garden party, of course. What did Jose? But Jose was
increasingly amazed. "Suspend the party?

"My dear Laura, do not be mad. We can not do anything about it. No one expects such a thing
. Do not be extravagant.

"But we can not hold a garden party with a dead
front of our door.

say that was really exaggerated, because the houses were in a separate
field at the bottom of a steep hill leading to the house. There was a wide street
involved. It is true that they were too close. They were a real eyesore
and had no right to be in that neighborhood.
houses were small petty, painted a chocolate color. In the garden patches
not had more than cabbage, chicken flacas y latas de tomate. Hasta el humo que
salía de las chimenas era miserable. Hilachas y fragmentos de humo, tan distinto
de los grandes penachos de plata que se elevaban de las chimeneas de los
Sheridan. Vivían lavanderas y barrenderos, y un remendón, y un hombre que tenía
todo el frente de la casa con jaulitas de pájaros. Los chicos hormigueaban.
Cuando los Sheridan eran pequeños les estaba prohibido acercarse, por el
lenguaje que usaban los pobres y las enfermedades que podían contagiarles. Pero
desde que eran grandes Laura y Jose en sus andanzas solían meterse por ahí. Era
sórdido y asqueroso. Salían estremecidas. Pero se debe ir a todas partes; uno
should see everything. So they went.

"I'm thinking what will be the band's music for that poor woman," said Laura
.

- Oh, Laura!

Jose began to get serious.

"If you go to delete the music whenever an accident happens, you will take
a miserable life. I'm so sorry you horn. I understand like you.

His eyes hardened and his sister looked like he looked when I was little
and had a fight.

"You will not resurrect a sentimental drunk," he said softly.

- Drunk! Who said he was drunk? Laura

became furious to Jose. He said precisely what
used to say on such occasions: "I'm going to tell mom, now."

"Look, dear," said Jose with a lullaby.

"Mom, I can enter? Laura

spun glass doorknob.

"Of course, dear. But what happens? What made you get so red?

And Mrs. Sheridan turned back in her dressing table.
was testing a new hat.

"Mama, a man is dead," began Laura.

- But not in the garden? "Interrupted the mother.

- No, no!

- Ah, What scared me!

Mrs Sheridan gave a sigh of relief, took off his great hat and placed it on his knees
.

"But listen, mother," said Laura.

Breathless, half drowned, told the terrible story.

"Of course we can not celebrate our holiday, right? "He pleaded.
music and people. We're going to hear, Mom, are nearby, neighbors!

With Laura's astonishment her mother behaved like Jose, and it was worse because the idea seemed to amuse
. He refused to take Laura seriously.

"But, my dear, you have to have common sense. Only
we happen to know. If someone had died there of natural causes and not know how they are
live in those dark holes, we would like our party, right?

Laura had to say yes, but realized it was not fair.
sat on the sofa and began to tug the fringe of the cushions.

"Mom, is not a lack of heart on our part? He asked.

- vidita! Mrs. Sheridan

approached him, carrying his hat. Before Laura could help
planted it on the head.

- My daughter! "Said the mother, the hat is yours. I sent do for you.
ago too young for me. I've never seen more beautiful. Look! And
raised his hand mirror.

"But, Mom," repeated Laura. No one could look, was put aside.

But Mrs. Sheridan lost patience just as Jose.

-Laura, you're getting absurd, "he said coldly. People of that class does not expect us
no sacrifice. And it's not altruism aguarnos the party, as
you're doing.

I do not understand, "said Laura, and went out of the room rushed to lock in his
.

There, by chance, the first thing he saw was a lovely girl in the mirror
, with his black hat trimmed with gold daisies, and a long black velvet
ink. He never imagined it could be as well. Would
right mom? Now he wanted mom was right. Is it exaggerated?
may be madness. Just for a moment was the sight of that poor woman and
these poor creatures, and the body leading to the house. But it seemed
blur, unreal, like a photograph in the newspaper. I remember back
after the party. By all accounts it seemed the best ...

finishing lunch at one and a half. At two and a half everything was in order of battle
. Musicians with green jackets and
were placed in a corner of the tennis court.

- Dear! Shrieked Kitty Maitland, "do not you think green frogs? The should have
placed around the pond and the director, in a sheet, in the center.

Lorenzo arrived and greeted the move to get dressed. On seeing Laura again
think about the accident. I wanted to tell him. If Lorenzo
agreed with others then they are right. And he went into the hall.

- Lorenzo!

- Hello!

was in the middle of the stairs, but when he turned and saw Laura,
inflated cheeks and rolled her eyes.

- Word of honor, Laura! You are maddening. What most elegant hat!

Laura said softly:

- You think? ... "She smiled, and did not tell anything.

Soon after people began arriving in droves. The band began to play, the
servants ran from the house added to the marquee. Wherever one looked
couples were walking, bending over the flowers, greeting,
walking across the lawn. Seemed bright birds that had perched on the garden
the Sheridan for an evening on your flight to where? Ah, what happiness is being with people
happy, shaking hands, press cheeks, smile into the eyes
!

- Laura, dear, how good you are!

- How well are you doing that hat, child!

-look like a English. I've never seen more admirable.

And Laura, glowing, gently asked: "Have you been served tea?
Do not want an ice cream? Fruit ice creams are special." He ran to where he was his father and
pleaded, "Daddy dear, are you a drink served to the band?"

And the perfect evening culminated slowly, slowly faded, closed its petals slowly
.

"There was never more delicious feast ..." "A great success ..." "The greatest ..."

Laura helped her mother in the layoffs. Were next to each other
until everything is finished.

"It's over, it's over, thank heaven," said Mrs. Sheridan. Call the
others. Take coffee. I am undone. Yes, a great success. But, ah, these
parties, these parties! Why insist, daughters, to give parties?

They sat in the deserted marquee.

"Take a sandwich, daddy. I wrote name.

Thanks. Mr. Sheridan

ate a snack. He took another.

- I suppose you will not have known anything about the horrible accident today? "He said.

"Darling," said Mrs. Sheridan, holding up his hand, already knew that.
We almost spoiled the party. Laura wanted to suspend it.

- Oh, Mama! "Laura did not want the hassle with that.

- Ah, yes, horrible! "Said Mrs. Sheridan," The man was married, lived in the lane
below, and let, say, a woman and half a dozen Chiquilines
.

awkward silence ensued. Mrs. I did not know what to do with the cup.
was a lack of tact by Dad ...

suddenly looked up. There was the table full of sandwiches and pastries and cupcakes
should be discarded. Was then one of his great ideas.

"I know," he said. We will prepare a basket. We will send an
that poor little of these things so rich. At least, it will be a party for the kids. Do not
you think? And also be glad to have neighbors who visit. Lucky
they are ready! Laura!

be jumped.

"Bring the basket big cupboard on the ladder.

"But Mom, do you think really it's a good idea? "Said Laura.

And again how strange it seemed to feel unlike any other! Bring leftover
party. Would you like that the poor woman?

"Sure, what's happening today? An hour or two ago he insisted on showing sympathy and
now ...

- Oh, good!

Laura ran with the basket. The filled, Mrs. Sheridan left filled.

"Take yourself, darling, run, just as you are. No, wait, takes about
lilies. At that people like lilies.

-The stems will spoil the suit said the practice Jose.

"True, very timely. Then only basket. But Laura, the mother
followed up outside the marquee, in any way ...

- What, Mom?

No, better not put such ideas in the creature's head.

"Nothing, go soon.

getting dark when Laura locked the gate. A big dog
ran like a ghost. The road gleamed white and houses were down there in
darkness. What it all seemed quiet after the evening!
costs was down to a spot where lay the dead, and could not believe it. How could
power? Stopped one minute. It seemed in him kisses, voices, tinkling spoons
of laughter, the smell of crushed grass. I could not think of anything
. How strange! Looked at the pale sky and the only thing he could think was: "Yes, it has been a success
the party."

came to a crossroads where the street began,
dark and full of smoke. Women in shawls and men in caps passing through there, on the other men had
leaning fences, kids playing in the street
doors. A faint rustle was heard in the miserable huts. In some
fluctuate tub looked light and shadow move as a puppets, in the windows.
Laura bowed her head and quickened his pace.

I should have to wear a coat. What was striking his suit! And the great
hat with ribbons hanging - if at least take another hat! Will be looking
? Sure. It was a mistake to come, she knew it was a mistake
. Would not it be better to return?

No, too late. Here was the house. Should be that. In front was a group of people
dark. Next door an old woman with a crutch sat, looking
. Feet resting on a newspaper. As he approached Laura,
voices ceased. It opened the group. It was as if wait, as if they knew there was going to
.

Laura was nervous. Looking velvet ribbon on the shoulder
asked one of the women stand there:

- Is this the home of Mrs. Scott?

And the woman, smiling in a strange way:

"Here is Miss.

Oh, get out of this! He repeated: "Help me, God", as he climbed the narrow sidewalk and called
. Unable to stay away from the looks or covered with any of
these shawls. The basket and let me leave. I will not wait for the vacant.

opened the door. A young woman in black appeared in the shade.

Laura asked: "Are you Mrs. Scott?" But with his great horror, she did not answer
"Among please Miss," and found herself locked in the hallway.

"No, no need to go, just wanted to leave this basket. Mom sends ...

Women dark hallway seemed not to hear. "Over here, if you like, miss," said
oily voice, and Laura followed.

- Hum! "Said the little woman. Hmm ... is a lady. He turned to Laura.
said humbly: "I am the sister. Discúlpela, miss."

- Oh, of course! Said Laura. Please, please do not bother. I ...
I just wanted to let ...

But now the woman standing next to fire back.
his face swollen, red, swollen eyes and lips, it was horrible.
seemed not to understand why Laura was there. What did it mean? Why is this unknown
was in the kitchen with a basket? What did that mean? And the poor face puckered
again.

"Okay, dear," said another. I will attend to the lady. "And once again began
:" Discúlpela, Miss, and his face swollen too, tried an oily smile
.
Laura
thought only to leave, to go. He returned to the hall.
opened the door. He entered the bedroom where he lay dead.

- Do not want to see? Said Em's sister, Laura and pushed toward the bed.
not be afraid, ma'am, "and his voice was tender, sensitive, and tenderly
down the sheet, looks like a painting. Not much to see. Come, dear. Laura

followed.

There was a young man sleeping soundly asleep-so-far, far away from
two. Oh, so remote, so peaceful! I was dreaming. Do not ever wake up.
His head was buried in the pillow, his eyes closed
were blind under the closed eyelids. He was absorbed in his sleep. What did he care of the parties
gardens, baskets and lace? I was already away from those things
. It was amazing, beautiful. While they laughed and the band played, the miracle had happened
in the lane. Happy ... Happy ... "Everything's fine," said
sleeping face. "It is what it should be. I'm happy."

But still, did mourn, and could not leave the room without saying anything. Laura
sobbed like a child. "Forgive my hat," he said.

And this time did not wait for Em's sister. He found the way out. Passed by
between the obscure group of people, sidewalk below. Doubling the alley found
Lorenzo.

emerged from the shadows.

- Is that you, Laura?

"Yes.

"Mom was worried. Was everything all right?

- Yes, Lorenzo! He took his arm, pressed against him.

- But, you're not crying, right? Asked the brother.

Laura shook her head. I was crying.

Lorenzo put his arm around the neck.

"Do not cry," she said with her voice warm and affectionate. Was it horrible?

"No," sobbed Laura. It was wonderful.

He stopped, looked at his brother.

"But that is not life," he stammered, "is not life.

could not explain what life was like. No matter. He understood.

- Is not that what, darling? "Said Lorenzo.

Katherine Mansfield
(New Zealand, 1888 - France, 1923)

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'Beware of the Paternina' written

Federico Paternina? What soon will come my grandfather? Recurring commonplace idea of \u200b\u200ba generation that, like mine, grew up in the wines derroteo of Parras and the presence of quasi-invincible Rioja marquis names. This is not a Rioja!, Cried my father, like many others, to taste one of those new generation Riojas, red fruit with full transparency, without a substantial recurring harassment of wood, distinctive and eloquent of all a style whose empire also hid the sun.

the sidewalk is not tropical, but highlights the warmth in La Rioja leaving their marks on the shoots of the vines. Arrival Ollauri, the mythical town that is home to Patel and Beronia, among most famous wineries, the first, no doubt, an icon of the global wine industry.

"You know what he said Sabina Patel on?" Exclaims Carlos Latas, manager of the winery. Of course. "Hey, Sabina / beware Patel / Red wine and rock'n'roll." That also is generational, I guess. But what I can come to teach in Patel, to us that, as noted, almost in unison Alejandro Zárate and myself, grew up with wine. "They were the wines from our parents." The diligent eye and smile barely hinted at the winemaker Carlos Estecha came to applaud and enjoy that comment, but also to give a twist to the visit: how about a historic tasting Patel? 54, 58, 70 .... Reds to sing an aria in the cup for a bel die within minutes. Have to entertain. Ollauri
The hamlet of, says the official history of the people, shows a staggered arrangement, with reference to the lower parts of the town, to be taking up with longitudinal and cross streets. The highest places of the village up its famous wineries.

On the origin of the town and its name there are several hypotheses. It is evident from the name of Basque origin Ollauri, like other nearby towns and the place names of the municipality. While documenting an earlier population, the town existed as such since the sixteenth century, as evidenced by documents at the municipal and parish archives. In a reference

XVI century municipal file reads: "in place of Ullauri, village and jurisdiction of the town of Briones ..." Ollauri Since the fifteenth century, like Brown, is a place of mastery, specifically the Bay of Pigs, the future Duke of Osuna. Until the early eighteenth century, therefore, Ollauri with Gimileo Rodezno and depended on the next town of Briones. But in 1712, reigning in Spain's first Bourbon king Philip V, Briones Ollauri and dissociated himself from was established in villa with its own Town Hall.

The topography of the town speaks for itself and the various chimneys that stand out in many areas, noting the characteristic reiterate the region, a kind of grottoes and caves that are the essence of many of the wineries, such as Patel also where the cobra cava essence of a true cathedral of wine, with the natural patina and soul of centuries, processes, glare and leaks about these wonderful wines that are the essence and spirit of the region. These are wines in a catatonic state, alive but not so smart, but definitely not dead dead, saving an enigma inside. It is a labyrinthine walk smells like wine, it tastes like legend and that can only magnify the history of a name and a cellar.

In that walk among racks, shades and riddles wine, and I ask Carlos Latas on the status of Rioja in the Civil War years. "It really was not much affected, relative to other regions, and that will clear by the number of bottles they have in different years, as there was no great movement of troops were available wines. That is the most eloquent and clear sign of when such a catastrophe affects the story of a wine region. "

A lesson of history, traditions, wine tourism as a projection activity that revitalizes and maintains in force even those who appear which are hardly classic novel, not forgetting of course that's the paradox of the classic that sometimes we forget. In that, without doubt, my grandfather would agree.

Why Wont My Leg Stop Twitching

flavors

When travelers love good flavors to sit at the table in Spain are not just looking for a great restaurant experience, but also a range of dishes prepared with a variety of local ingredients .

longer trips are planned only in terms of the monuments and museums of different cities, are also made based on the variety and quality of food that mark the land, says Joan Mesquida, Secretary English Tourism in its presentation of the guide Spain's 50 Best, a document that promotes all latitudes the richness of English territory, marked by the eloquence of their products with designation of origin: ham, olives , oils, fish and seafood.

Spain's cuisine has not yet been honored as Intangible Heritage of Humanity, but that does not taste and enthusiasm, in a time where even the recurrent note is the economic crisis and unemployment, to gauge their cooking, and everything that is around it, as one of its major specialized tourism products, intending to generate an economic y una revitalización del consumo, con nuevos seguidores de otros países.

“La gran diversidad climática y geográfica hace posible encontrar productos básicos de excelente calidad, tanto de la tierra como del mar. Gracias a diferentes procesos de empacado y embotellado, nuestros productos pueden ser disfrutados siempre, tanto en su lugar de origen como en otros puntos”, resalta Mesquida.

Para redondear la ya de por sí antojable propuesta, nada mejor que la imagen de Ferran Adriá en la contraportada, sentenciando con la mirada, el juego con los ingredientes a la manera de un malabarista de las ideas y las formas, así como con un recuento de bodegones que recuerda lo mismo el Golden Age of current culinary workshops: "Here art is not only found in museums."

Promoting destinations via its flavors, its traditions, the spirit of the people form in atmospheres that we gather around the table, with the decisive impact of good wine, basic flavors of breads, cheeses, vegetables, which lead to complex and unique experiences are the essence of this renewed tourist offer we can not stop reading, necessarily, the need for Mexico and your kitchen to have a current inventory, dynamic, honest, those wonderful products that encourage us also to walk out in search of their history, evidence of life, nature and landscapes.

One of the first products in this list Hispanic crave the pleasure and taste is no doubt Aubocassa olive oil, produced by Bodegas Roda, this oil also hails from Mallorca, also produces the extraordinary Dauro, L 'Empordà, in Catalonia. After an eloquent tasting between Roda, corymbs and Cirsion, under the guidance of Gonzalo Lainez and sight of the Ebro and enchanting scenery, enjoy a special tasting with these mythical oils, in the case of Aubocassa

, The Independent, the prestigious British newspaper, described it enthusiastically as one of the best olive oils in the world, while critic Rafael García Santos was declared the top of the English oils. Made exclusively with olive Arberquina in Manacor, Mallorca, is the result of a first cold pressing. Beyond its striking bright yellow color, with subtle notes verdáceas highlights the experience explosive aromas, with accents of spice, but above all his wonderful trail of tomato and wild herbs. A sensual English landscape, full of life and provocation to taste we reiterate that the name of the people and travel dates are written many times with the culinary language alphabet.

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Way to Play

Benedicta Alejo says, one of the masterpieces of the traditional cuisine of Michoacán, one of the greatest satisfactions has given her culinary work has been the opportunity to visit her son in the U.S., after several years of separation. Indeed, the day that Benedict made his way to teach a cooking class at The Culinary Institute of America in San Antonio, he opened a new panorama of experiences and satisfactions that until then had not envisioned.

Benedicta, as few other women Michoacán, have discovered that the kitchen, your kitchen is not only a treasure worthy of being saved ancestral stored as photographs, letters, and memories are kept. Is via fullness and a very honest way of living, with dignity and with the conviction that the traditional cooks work is a job worth and worth much, it must be recognized and rewarded with the rank it deserves.

Examples like Benedicta and reunion with his son, or in revaluation Purépecha women are making implements like the metate, as an indispensable element in the new platform that culinary tourism poses to states like Michoacán give a very fair of which involves the assessment and recovery of traditional Mexican cuisine, and not merely as a media effect, but as a genuine claim to a philosophy and a way of life.

has been very exciting in the tribute were Juanita Bravo Veracruz and Benedict Lazaro Alejo Vargas, cooks traditional Purépecha Plateau, and is also recognized as "Master Teacher of Mexican cuisine" during the last day of Veracruz Food Festival Vanilla.

Event organizers recognized them all Michoacan traditional cooks who were able to enroll their contribution to the traditional cuisine of Mexico in the Representative List of Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity in November.
The distinction Food Festival presented the Veracruz Vanilla was driven by the Conservatory of Mexican Food Culture, Chef Jose Burela, organizer of the Festival, culinary activists and representatives of the Tourism Ministry Michoacán.

In parallel, the small business community Purépecha women of Santa Fe de la Laguna, were recognized by members of civil society and government of Michoacan, highlighting the work of 11 entrepreneurs in Santa Fe currently available to the public hosting services to small hotels, work with artisans in workshops of coexistence and cuisine rooted in traditional kitchens Purépecha. Living with

Purépecha people, learn the traditional style of life in the village experience contact with the mud on the job with a local craftsman, eat traditional food with Hispanic roots, sleeping in an old building with the comforts of today, finally, meet Michoacán "inside", is now a reality in the indigenous community of Santa Fe de la Laguna, from this network of community enterprises Tourist coexistence.

These two traditional kitchens, five workshops of potters and coexistence with traditional four hostels operated by women of the guild members to the Civil Society "Ateshiru."
hostels
The scheme aims to recover part of the hosting system that offered in Don Basque time Quiroga Santa Fe families to travelers attending the Hospital, to the parties of the community or commercial activities.

Surveys conducted both in Veracruz and Santa Fe de la Laguna speak of a new sensibility in the reading of Mexican cuisine, but the inherent message is more than clear and convincing: those diplomas, certificates and applause must add actions very specific to this heritage is also a decent lifestyle, sustainable, traditional cooks for Mexico.