Archivos de la categoría: Literatura

El tormento de la esperanza

Hace ya muchos años, al caer una tarde, el venerable Pedro Arbuez D’Espila, sexto prior de los Dominicanos de Segovia, el tercer gran inquisidor de España, seguido por un fray redentor, y precedido por dos familiares de Su Santidad, el último llevando un farol, hicieron su entrada en una catacumba subterránea. La cerradura de una

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La zorra y el racimo de uvas

Estaba una zorra con mucha hambre, y al ver colgando de una parra unos deliciosos racimos de uvas, quiso atraparlos con su boca. Mas no pidiendo alcanzarlos, a pesar de sus esfuerzos, se alejó diciéndose: -¡Ni me agradan, están tan verdes! Nunca traslades la culpa a los demás de lo que no eres capaz de

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La ironía de los nombres

¡Cómo abundan los nombres poéticos en estos sitios tan feos! Desde que viajo por estas tierras, me sorprende la horrible ironía de los nombres. Tal sitio que se distingue por su yermo aspecto y la desolada tristeza del negro paisaje, se llama Valleameno. Tal villorrio de adobes que miserablemente se extiende sobre un llano árido

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Creencias

There is a small minority, for example, that believes that bad weather comes from bad thoughts. This is a rather mystical approach to the question, for it implies that thoughts can be translated directly into events in the physical world. According to them, when you think a dark or pessimistic thought, it produces a cloud

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The Assassination Club

The Euthanasia Clinics are not the only way to buy your own death, however. There are the Assassination Clubs as well, and these have been growing in popularity. A person who wants to die, but is too afraid to go through with it himself, joins the Assassination Club in his census zone for a relatively

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Mundo real

‘You’re moving away from the real world.’ ‘What real world? There is no real world, is there?’ She said patiently, ‘Yes, the world of ordinary people and the shit they have to deal with-unemployment, bad housing, boredom. Soon you won’t understand anything about the essential stuff.’ Hanif Kureishi, “The Buddha of Suburbia”.

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Comienzos

Maggie was one who marched stalwartly onward while Esther seemed always to be stalling and reviewing her life, ‘making a fresh start’ in a new job, a new course of instruction-graphic design, public relations, a master’ degree programme in math at Columbia School of Education, to qualify her for private school teaching-or, in the cool

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Cuentos correctos para un mundo incorrecto.

LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD. There one was a young person named Red Riding Hood who lived with her mother on the edge of a large wood. One day her mother asked her to take a basket of fresh fruit and mineral water to her grandmother’s house-not because this was womyn’s work, mind you, but because

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Grupos.

Y por medio andan los amigos que, en esa edad en la que no entiendes más moral que la que te dictan tus iguales, se convierten en guardianes de una infelicidad de manera más implacable que la que en un futuro ejercerá la propia familia. Los amigos, mis amigos de entonces, acomodados en ese gregarismo

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Futuro.

(…) and to the best of his knowledge he has no ambitions. No burning ambitions, in any case, no clear idea if what building a plausible future might entail for him. (…) it is this ability to live in the present, to confine himself to the there and now, and although it might not be

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