December was cold
Cantabria and Extremadura good friends: a trip to the Picos de Europa, one morning taverns in Potes, a trail of blood in the snow (as in this magnificent story of García Márquez, only this time it was not blood but wine). December will be even more cold, cold Swedish but also with the heat of illusions that begin to be shared, sung and written.
December came as many other years. With the anniversaries of the deaths of Camarón de la Isla and John Lennon (we must add that of another musical genius: the wise, generous, good old Enrique Morente), with colored lights and the gates of Bethlehem While families around the fire in the fireplace, while someone on the street dying of hypothermia. December go with fireworks and figures of artifice, with unacceptable economic crisis and spiritual crisis inadmissible.
is just another calendar page. Christmas lost interest years ago. January and the change of date is just an idea border, it is useless if it does not alter their own borders in us over all that surrounds us.
December arrived, but some stayed on the road. I especially remember the poet Mario Benedetti and my aunt Crescencia, which I could never say goodbye completely. I also think of good friends to this date will be harder than ever in Beita Carter Family, the family of Antonio Robles, in these words of congratulations and prosperity can not find for them.
Today marks the fifth anniversary of this blog. Five years have passed at the speed of the world itself. Five years to the point that I want to and followed as I open the windows to 2011. A sunny window but also dotted with icicle.
New year, new decade ... and perhaps new words to mean the same thing as always: we are alive (some more than others) and while there is life there is hope.
One year I ask the same thing I hope I can give: happiness, music and love.
Happy holidays to all.
and peace and health for the next 365 days.
Cantabria and Extremadura good friends: a trip to the Picos de Europa, one morning taverns in Potes, a trail of blood in the snow (as in this magnificent story of García Márquez, only this time it was not blood but wine). December will be even more cold, cold Swedish but also with the heat of illusions that begin to be shared, sung and written.
December came as many other years. With the anniversaries of the deaths of Camarón de la Isla and John Lennon (we must add that of another musical genius: the wise, generous, good old Enrique Morente), with colored lights and the gates of Bethlehem While families around the fire in the fireplace, while someone on the street dying of hypothermia. December go with fireworks and figures of artifice, with unacceptable economic crisis and spiritual crisis inadmissible.
is just another calendar page. Christmas lost interest years ago. January and the change of date is just an idea border, it is useless if it does not alter their own borders in us over all that surrounds us.
December arrived, but some stayed on the road. I especially remember the poet Mario Benedetti and my aunt Crescencia, which I could never say goodbye completely. I also think of good friends to this date will be harder than ever in Beita Carter Family, the family of Antonio Robles, in these words of congratulations and prosperity can not find for them.
Today marks the fifth anniversary of this blog. Five years have passed at the speed of the world itself. Five years to the point that I want to and followed as I open the windows to 2011. A sunny window but also dotted with icicle.
New year, new decade ... and perhaps new words to mean the same thing as always: we are alive (some more than others) and while there is life there is hope.
One year I ask the same thing I hope I can give: happiness, music and love.
Happy holidays to all.
and peace and health for the next 365 days.
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