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The occasion of the form 15 ^ - The chamber pot


"How long? How long will it take the news of the master to reach the wrong ears? "I think Esteban, frowning forehead that afternoon. At his side of the body soft and docile Estrela throbbing pink. Devoid of the nudity of a vulgar, closer to a divine beauty than anything terrain. With her hand on his side of the young woman, Esteban stared at the ceiling and had no time to bask in the afternoon of passion. Destiny particular her. Just as the momentum of erotica, sailed his lust turned towards hints strange, unusual for him, the thought of an old man kidnapped him. He cast his mind far beyond the sex appeal of the immanent more overwhelming. It was like paying a duty, I brushed the thought. As if, now that his young heart was beginning to feel the need for new growth, fate would take him away. Esteban did not know well, he did not know him any more than a young man can know his deepest desires, ready to emerge, mature man who will take over, the old man that will pull the line.
She got naked and felt cold feet on the marble. He watched Antoni and saw him still fast asleep, mouth open and his hands folded on his stomach. She watched him calm for the first time in hours. It judged healthy rest in the afternoon shadows and then withdrew when Gaudi turned his eyes closed. The door ajar and went da Estrela. He took over and was like the first. A wonderful "first" on the stage of her feelings known.
She looked at him, overwhelmed by what I cover agile and an expert who also moved to a new rhythm, tempo of the pleasure away from slavish end in itself, closer to arch, bend a harmonic string instrument. Perceptions of women even in younger, act and unfold much earlier humans, the boy in the boy. Their eyes are crossed
transparent once as they had never focused before, and a second, the first questions, and a third, to the infinite answers.
It was a pleasure again. Not to describe, to be preserved in the hearts and minds

Esteban expected the night to move cautiously. He went out and walked shaven, brisk pace, with the bunch of keys in his pocket and little desire to waste time. He arrived at the desert site, then the gates opened and closed the office of Gaudi. He repeated the scene of the Study: rolled polished, stacked sheets, pulled scribbled notebooks. He arranged everything in a suitcase and left, not before he had glanced at that site. He had no fear of not seeing him again. I thought it beautiful, that monumentality that had always escaped unfinished, incomplete a charm, he realized that his hearing was changing towards new boundaries. Did not ask why. Already knew.

"Amancio What are you doing?" He asked his guest provocative, over a plate of fruit, while biting a grape white. "Home is great. Alfonso my hubby, who knows when they will return ... In any case, he warns, with at least two weeks in advance "
" You're invited to live with you? "Esteban whispered, smiling, thinking have hit the mark. Took as a slap.
"I'm asking not to be an idiot to" Raise the woman with unsurpassed irony. Her hair tied back, they talked more about her.
"There is my master ..."
"no balls ... Amancio Your master has nothing to do. What do you mean? "
" I do not know. I do not know where to go "
" I do not care about your problems Amancio said the woman-becoming-serious, but I want you to be clear with me. Your boss is already in my house and sleep there. I'm talking to you ... Who do you look? "
" To me? None "And he had deviated look
"What an asshole" He mumbled, Estrela.
"Do not try me. They seek him. I will also look for another few days "
" An opportunity to do nothing. Nothing ... "
" What? "Churches Esteban frowning.
"If you do not even try, do nothing. It 'clear. Do things that you always do. Nobody knows that we know, he can not be here, but here is safe.
Although still have not told me to "who" is safe. You
back to work, things that you do every day ...- laughed briefly with her white teeth - Yes, even the "Forat Vermell" ... You what you always do, bull. " And with her slender hands had shaken his thigh, while touching the intimate.
"Have with you, you can not ever do serious people?"
"Can not see nothing serious in all this, Amancio. You who run away with your grandfather does not know who to come and take cover from me ... "
" Well, I think you will not be disappointed Estrela
With the speed of a cat scratch, the woman trimming a slap sound that turned his head to Esteban. "Vulgar canalhice" he whispered through clenched teeth, during the operation. "Get out of my house! Let the old and go! "
"Where do I go? - Esteban had looked bad - and why should I let Don ... "He seemed to bite his tongue.
"... Don?" He returned Estrela mischievous
"But get out!" And he had withdrawn the scornful smile of the woman.
That night he slept on the floor in the room with the head of Antoni Gaudi at the chamber pot painted. Then, shortly after three in the morning, a slender figure and fragrant took his hand and led him in that warm bed by now familiar.
He did bring.

The next morning, Esteban got up early. She kissed the buttocks exposed to Estrela and left. He went home to change clothes groped in resuming a normal life fiction. He repeated that perhaps could be argued on rescue old architect, Antoni stating that they had brought to the study and found that he had assured them of his lucidity and beyond leaving it only after a few hours on that Sunday afternoon. He showed surprise, compared to continuing his absence and would have justified its shipyard and the twilight of his master, citing inane explanations of unspecified medical tests, with the intention to give the impression to the nth subtle hangover unjustifiable disposed to Home of the cocotte on duty. It was his role. For once he was happy to interpret it in the round. It was said that
it was strange. For the first time not only lying to himself, but to protect something or someone. Those lies, repeated the foremen of the yard, officials of the curia, the young architects, the unskilled workers, different sound. Less disgusting maybe, probably more difficult to sustain. He would want to shout to the world that the architect Antoni Gaudi, Barcelona IKL father, the creative soul of Catalonia was in serious danger, he wanted to whisper to the vigorous construction workers who idolized him, who was chasing the bad bad people , who wanted to bring in Lisbon, bucargli wanted him out of the brain and the senno.Estirpargli genius. Undermine his soul. Definitely. He
wanted, he could.
Then she thought of the clamor, the problems that this would lead to the same site and Antoni. Rescued by shiny implements of Egas Muniz, but doomed to become an icon. Protective of his people prisoner, engulfed by the blob, which confuses heat spasm, choking with affection, joy to read, but you shall oppression.
was said, appearing stunned by the disappearance of the projects and papers and study site, that the only way was to pretend, pretend and still pretend. As long as he could. As long as they have not discovered. The weather was the only thing he really needs Antoni.
time to settle the collapse of his intellect, days to take it back. Maybe. Or perhaps to be reborn to a new understanding. Who knows in what direction or form, under which the creative impulse of soul which changed, but remained herself.
In this thought, as he continued to pretend, as he flung open his nostrils the office emptied of creating the master, or opened his eyes wide in disbelief, when officials of the curia the press with their incessant questions, hour after hour. Or when they called the study of Antoni and had to go head down, as if to simulate shock and amazement. Carabineros I asked him suspicious. He calmly explained, argued, he said, falsely addressed. Shiny as a silver cross hanging on a black breast.
"I do not know anything about it .. .. I was in Cadaques liver problems, yesterday I went to the family doctor to my house .. Don Gaudi is an original person, will be back ... .. I'm sure will be back."
Coming out of the office of architect of God, did not have even the slightest doubt. Is addressed to his messy apartment, lighting a hub. She walked the floor at dusk and never turned the streets crowded with people.
Divago some acquaintance with the passage of the Rambla, contacted friends comfortably accommodated at the tables waiting for the night, he sent a speech to the futile and evanescent sera.Visse few hours of a life that was no longer hers. After dinner went home, washed his face and jumped on the bed. Pending.
Before leaving, he opened the box of "pleasure as an end in itself" and took the documents Gaudi infilandoseli in the inside pocket of the gray pinstripe, and then went out again.
Halfway he stopped again, with one click. He bent down and tied his shoe. He smiled scared for a moment. It took strength. Regained his composure.

that Tuesday night "El Forat Vermell" offered dances of men dressed as women. Esteban threw the heads of that smoky stir as pistons and almost immediately went out and saw the heavy door from which he had entered a few seconds before, reopened again. The shaking of the ground hid the view of the lewd faces.
grabbed the first glass to roll, snatching the hand of a lady if equivocal and drank it, taking care to be more of a drop falling on expensive clothes. Other times he repeated the trick, while waved mawkish and slippery friends, acquaintances and sexual experiences for one night.
After a couple of hours of dance rhythms, surreal conversation, a hashish not inspired, pushed away his friend staggered from the red brick wall and stopped for a moment pretend. His right eye
dodged his usual and see where he was rested. While the loud music of the small orchestra dictated the timing of its peer, the "dancers" attended to the noisy crowd and hybridity, unreal microcosm night, emerged a couple of smiling figures, a man and a woman, too canonically dressed in that little world, where normal clothing, faded almost always the single nell'astrusità detail.
He rose unsteadily, swaying with yet another drink in my hand and placed it on one of the men dressed as women, offered his view of his tongue stroking that male lobe, while his right hand and shoves something in her mouth words whispered smiling. Then he staggered off and ducking. Again.
few minutes later the little group of girls jumped from his hairy chest the two unexpected guests of the "Forat Vermell" between fuss, skirts raised and hands everywhere, Esteban pulled the door, flew on two flights of stairs and disappeared in the night in Barcelona.

Half an hour later arrived at the gate of Estrela fast that his breath was now a regular rhythm of double breaths.
"Ola ... Amancio - Estrela looked at him, despite the outrageous words, his tone was different - What is it? You have done a hurry because you miss me? Or you forgot those? "And with his hand had pulled from his pocket as a pair of flesh-colored condoms.
Esteban looked wrong-footed, even without his breath. His eyes launched a "You're a bitch" that fell on deaf ears. Estrela's both went silent, and then took his hand.
"Come with me, baby. I'll show you something, "
In the long corridor, she began to tell.
"This morning I entered the room of your grandfather. I found as I've known. With that look strange, lost. He was sitting on the bed. I made him drink a little 'milk and I gave a little' bread. He ate without speaking. Yet. "
Estrela stood before the closed door of the room and Antoni went on to tell, without opening it: "I took him to the bathroom and I left alone. In His room was stinking. I opened the windows and I did get away. Antoni will return before then, I placed the fragrant flowers in a vase ... "He paused. Esteban
watched, amazed at all the details.
"... Then I made him go back to the room and I left it there. I did everything myself, I sent away the two people that I work at home. A few hours later I came back to give him lunch .. "
" brava - Esteban did - as a perfect housewife "
" I uh ... balls Amancio. Laugh. Laugh at this "And she opened the door

Antoni Gaudi was sitting on the bed with her eyes lost. Around at his feet, peeled flowers, petals ragged and exploited. It was three different colors of roses, callas milky, mimosa yellow with which the composition varied Estrela wanted the graceful presence of the elderly in the cold room. Flowers torn, desfogliati, stepped on second use that escaped and Esteban, who had it rattling. The light of two lamps in the room lit up what once was a genius who had attacked and killed the flowers. Torn flowers?
"What Amancio? Did you fall the jaw? "Urged nasty Estrela who took his revenge and waited, enjoying a little 'a bit sadistic' softened, the performance of his young lover who took a walk into the room cautiously, putting a hand to scratch his head glitter.
Then, when the girl had had enough of that abstruse and ridiculous spectacle, burst out again: "And you have not yet seen the best ...."
He approached the bed, bent down and pulled out an object.
"Keep Amancio. This was once a chamber pot by night. Now tell me: what? ... But tell me what to think about it. Take your time in here ... and to think well what you tell me "Then he went out, leaving him dazed with what once was a chamber pot by night.

Esteban sat on the bed, with the slow pace of an old arthritic. A little further than his teacher, near a lamp. Then, with his right hand cupped and lifted the object that had given Estrela. The form had been that of a chamber pot, but only that.
What was once an industrial coating and aseptic, now had an open casket of inconceivable beauty. Mosaic indescribable color Vergata and rectangular plates of organic and floral shapes stylize bestial of all kinds, the miniaturization of curves and straight lines with various combinations. The dominant theme of the salamander body multicolored free expression of aggression and by itself able to make an impression in the sense of design. A borrowed form, repeats himself as an artist, the Park Guell in Barcelona rimastane undisputed symbol. Beside her jellyfish, stylized human nell'intorno unfolded, like a dance of colors and messages dall'incomprensibile dreamlike sense. If not the explosion of natural beauty. That splitting and recombining without human artifice, if not the essential chemistry of the artistic with the urine and saliva. Esteban
watched carefully bringing it closer to a light source, and wondered how he had done his master to carry out in practice that artistic prodigy.
He put the chamber pot on the floor and raised his arms Antonio also directed the palms of the hands, blacks as pitch, with fingerprints taking each a tone. Ten fingers, ten colors.
Then there came upon him prone and watched her lips, and pinched, opened them and saw the rest of the pulping of flowers between his teeth. Mixture that is drawn from nature, that you are working in the human body and transforms. And returning to the world in the form of color.
the vicinity of the first light squared petals, arranged in a mosaic began to break away from the heat. Esteban was silent, stunned, watching the inevitable degradation.
That was, it was said that the words came from somewhere, an art that is true ascent. That breaks down and becomes invalid only when you view. From eye unclean.

Working For Price Chopper

The occasion of the form 14 ^ - Not in Lisbon


Esteban crossed her legs with grace, then clasped her hands and took the two indexes to his lips, moistening slightly, as if to make his real thoughts. Antoni Gaudi
front of him was sitting on his bed, his back slightly bent, hands clasped between her thighs, look into the void. Resigned as he had found a few hours earlier, and acting within unmade dirty face. The bearded, disheveled and oblong.
In two hours he had tried to extort a few words of reference, only with a short report that would announce the return of his body. He insisted whisper, repeated aloud. But nothing. So
Gaudi was there for a while, 'as vegetable. Other than itself, by his genius. Every now and then lifted his head and looked around bewildered, before returning to lie down in what looked like a vacuum.
Esteban led him directly into his small apartment, without passing by the study, without stop in the house of his master, in which, he judged, would be left alone. Later, perhaps at night, to pick up some dress Antoni, his sketches home. Then, she thought frantically, he would go to the site and would recover all the slides, books of calculation and design. Meanwhile he had stolen from the coat of Antoni his notebook, his papers and the few personal items and had them placed in a wooden box under the cabinet, the one where there were "Caps" at his pleasure. Tucked neatly on top of each other "on blocks" and ready for use.
perform these operations had been sitting. Shimmering in its clarity. Freezing cold as iron.

"Well Mr. Labriola - had made the prelate wiry, the heavy silver cross around his neck - his reports are quite detailed. Nevertheless we miss something Labruna. There .. there are some discrepancies with other news that we have. It is frankly staggering. "
" Discrepancy. But ... "
" Discrepancy, Labruna. Do not really think that such a delicate task for the curia, the Catalonia has been entrusted only to her? "A few months earlier, during one of the regular monthly meetings, more and more military relations, Esteban had been chased, cornered.
"Alone no. But I carried what I know and I've seen ... "
" We may not see enough. Or perhaps he is married to this cause with the required concentration. We realize that it is not an easy task, but we also think it takes all his attention. A note that until now has not called. "
"Again, Your Eminence, I ..."
"You, Labruna, we must take action. We must say why the site is still far behind the work does not proceed. The workers, the unskilled workers - the tone of the man of the church had become arrogant - are days to move materials, the materials that we pay, we pay over time ... May the faithful Catalans have entrusted to us. She says and does not say. Explains and does not make us understand. Sketches, omits, distracts. It will end ... "
Esteban had looked the priest straight in the eye, as with a burst of pent-up anger and the prelate had softened the tone
" ... that we will finish off the work to Don Gaudi, in spite of Barcelona and its people. That we will eventually take away his job "
" I can do "He had done so
" We can not do? We can not? Look ... "
The man in black had returned, nervous behind his mahogany desk, opened the drawer and had inferred from some crumpled paper and began to read Ruby:
"Antoni Gaudi is sixteen hours ... sixteen hours to observe a bow Antoni Gaudi's east side ... about to kill and break the bank west side of the aisle ... Antoni Gaudi, talks to raise walls between the central nave ... And then: Antoni Gaudi is holding up the yard at night ... The enough? ... I'll explain What you can see the night in a yard? Me explain. And it also explains why these notes we took them too "
Esteban clenched his fists. He wanted take him by the neck and crush him against the wall, he wanted to shove two fingers under the chin and stop the spinning of foul language at the time repulsive to Christian ears.
He wanted to scream in my face. Once. To all:
"I am not a worm. I AM NOT A SPY. I LOVE THAT MAN ...
which has in itself the mystery of the changing nature. Canonized in the form of new parameters dictated by God that breaks down barriers and builds human divine measures. That is a whole city, consisting of many men. Many men and innocent children. Like me. Like you, that you are a filthy beast. "
He said nothing of this. He took one breath that he was perceived as a double, in asthma.
It was instead a breath that turned around.
'It is true. Eminence. He's right "
" I know I'm right. I know perfectly. So I want to tell you one thing I have here some of its latest accounts. I see that his libertine habits do not leave Labruna ... Not because of association with Don Gaudi. If her father saw her ... - smiled slimy and sticky, which remained attached to Esteban - owed money to the most prestigious venues in Barcelona. Restaurants, fashion studios, there is even a music shop. You buy records and gramophones or gives them Labruna ... But do not listen to the music that we want.
These accounts are ours. Now. The owners are faithful I gladly accepted to defer payments if we ask it. And we're going to ask. Every two months, as it is today ... "
Esteban smiled gratefully and opened her eyes wide in astonishment. And
cue, frank: "Don Gaudi is beloved by the people. Not a day goes by that someone will come to bring gifts, votive offerings for the yard, eating ... "
" Barcelona is a city with a big heart - he added, calm returned, the man of church -. A heart so large that it can bring to ruin. In the customs and faith. The detail with which we are referring to, there has been known for years. And we also know that this has increased recently and going, while our work .. Our works are stopped. Have not moved one iota in the last six months.
Antoni Gaudi has aged, the sick, is sick in the mind. This is an injury that we can not afford ... "The priest swallowed
anger and sat at his desk, then pulled a pen from a drawer and placed it on the table before you start talking.
"We are collecting documentation on him, to understand that its origin is absent, its slow. It is now clear that the architect needs care. In any case it is no longer able to carry on his work, his mission. What is our mission "
" How I can help you better, "he asked timidly Labruna
" We need evidence. Conclusive evidence of his madness. Must bring proof! Our original agreement is still valid. In addition there are these .. These accounts. We can settle them all. Bring us something concrete "
" Antoni Gaudi is loved by the people, Your Eminence. You can not step away from his work, the people of Barcelona do not approve ... will never accept "
" You can not? It must be! ... And then we will curare.E 'already prepared everything for him. I'll bring in Lisbon. There, Dr. Egas Moniz heal him with his new surgical methods. University of Lisbon are at the forefront in these things. Catalonia Barcelona ... understand. Understand why must understand. Needless to living saints in this city. We need believers who do their duty, they are able to do so. The poor Gaudi is no longer "
Esteban looked at the silver cross dangling on his chest man. He watched attentively, while his eyes grew slot.
then turned the gun, peaceful, and sull'eminenza smiled, approaching.
"Thanks for everything. Always at your service "and leaned over kissing the bony hand of the priest.
In taking leave, he stammered a "Quick and good" formula of varied
The same evening, he found the Rambla, questioning a doctor friend, what were the experimental nature of this Egas Moniz.
"Oh Esteban - the friend told him, half stunned by cerveza - What names do I? Tell me about lobotomy on a night like this? Think fun. " Esteban Labruna
That night, did not drink anything. Wriggles himself from the legacy of his company and went in the studio of his master. He stood in the dark, leaning against a column in front of the building, watching the light coming through the windows, until it went out.
He had no desire, nor had smoked hashish that solitary That night in winter, could alleviate that sense of determination that who knows what, and unexpressed latent struggled inside him. A determination esondante, which had in it the sense of dragging out every other instinct that led him there. As the river that stretches out and makes her own land should not belong to him, regardless of banks established by act of common sense, risk and emotion.

watched his teacher in that position, got up, put her hands on her head, peering closely at the back of his neck, his skin, the hollow of his eyes. With an infinite sweetness, while her eyes ran fast on every detail of his head. Antoni let do everything, like a succulent plant. The young Labruna then exhaled.
"Thank God. No one has touched it "and shook his head to his chest Elder full of vigor.

He went to study at night like a thief in their place of work. Rolled transparencies, stacking patterns, collected papers and documents. Then came the safe and drew from his vest pocket a piece of paper that he had taken to Anton. Snapped the combination.
Then came home and found him just as it was. He emptied his master, carefully washed it, put the gauze at the knees, soaking up iodine. So expected that the liquid was dry and dressed, floor, clean clothes, taken from the study. He made a bundle with the old ones.

At the first light of dawn two men under his arm, a tall young man, the mustache virtuous, the other senior and bushy white beard, walk through the city. Unknown at the sight of garbage collectors, bakers, fruit carts and the smell of summer, it was stated that, in a few weeks of a hot that made you feel good. Esteban
in that long walk, having thrown in a box of dirty clothes Antoni, began to talk to his teacher. While Don Gaudi supports him in the passage, surrounded by his embrace of life, with his eyes on the ground.
Don Gaudi came to himself, please ... come back to me. She leaned against me, serve me. " There was no complaining, just words
full paraded before dawn, in the yard. Esteban paused a moment and thought it clear that the majesty of that work was almost complete, in view of their passage, in the new play of light dawning. A prospect that thrilled him, perhaps for the first time since he had seen her since then, slippery, it was glued to the back of his brilliant master. Antoni he looked away for just a moment. Then he fell back into his world. Esteban
yanked imperceptible how to speed up the pace. Don seconded the Gaudi as an empty sack.
hour later, and began again to fill the streets, Labruna struck several times by the Gorgon pleasant facade of a building liberty. He waited and then heard a window open. He looked up and saw a woman's hand close its doors. He waited.
"Yeah I want?" He laughed, the young woman beyond the front door while he was opening with a rattle of locks
"And tell me '- was added first to throw open their view - am I to tell you where I went wrong I lived the other night? Or are you that you're never satisfied ... "
The last sentence fell stunned and bewildered at the sight of the woman who was found in front of her lover for a night, an old arm. Then once she recovered, ironic and insightful.
"Cute ... But does not it seem a bit 'soon let me know your father?"
"Estrela, I need your help"
"Amancio. I hope you did not create excessive illusions in this man ... Some things are only good for two "
" Come on ... "
The woman, the wife of a Portuguese sea captain Andalusian there was never, mind lively and irreverent, opened the door to door in the two swallow. Before asking for Antoni, the atrium Estrela feet from head to Esteban. The vest over a white shirt with round neck, a baggy black jacket, the hair standing up, a hint of unshaven.
"What happened? I have let this effect me, or is that you miss me already? "Mocking smile, he had already realized that the stones had come to help her lover.
Esteban explained, keeping silent about the name, that his master was on the run. Fled after an emotional meltdown by important people. Dangerous for him. Needless to say he needed a safe, secure accommodation for at least a couple of days. Waiting to fix things.
Estrela looked at him seriously for the first time and thought it might in a moment that for a Once those emotions could be right for you. Perhaps he thought that Don Gaudi was fleeing the law, a collapse so, but financial. He had no importance. Esteban liked, he aroused the old man with tenderness, it was already Monday morning and the following weekend was still so far away. For other emotions. So he made a sign with his head in two, as if to say: "Come with me"
In doing so gave relief to the young Labruna he could afford to see the robe Estrela and its beautiful decolletage. Climbing the stairs, the swaying of her hips, her face brighten solar Esteban, but he was like hearing a friend scent.
Antoni was placed in one of many empty rooms of the house. In a cozy room, but cold. Esteban stood for a while 'with him, made him lay on the bed and took off her shoes. Then he ran a hand through his hair stuck and he felt tired and hungry.
Estrela, I peered through the door and when he saw her, smiled with his eyes upward and cut his cheeks pink in the morning.
"Come Amancio" The hugging did
"My name is Esteban Esteban ..." he whispered
"I Estrela. I still call Estrela. I took her hand and together they slipped into the bedroom. He no longer felt hungry or tired.

Amater Surgeon Xmas On Iphone Help With ???

The occasion of the form 13 ^ - Izquierda


The next morning Howard was standing in good time. He dressed, he made the same operation on her nails that she took care to file slightly, once a sure shot beard. Paco greeted with a narrow warm, unusual for the writer saw and then deliver two handwritten sheets. It was the letter to Antoni translated into English. Those few lines with which informed all his astonishment, his joy and his iron will to accept the invitation to Barcelona. Paco's sudden made a final nod with his head on the staircase. An up and down with his head clear and promising source of friendship. Lovecraft replied with a smile of his thin mouth and then he dived into the voices of "Barrio" in New York, entered the first grocery store around the corner and purchase envelopes and stamps for postage. Mail the letter holding it as the "Holy Grail" a few steps further.
Then stroll through the streets of that "city within a city", but his look was more indulgent towards the South American chaos that reigned, into the dirt and deteriorating facades vaguely colonial style. He listened to language in that walk and judged to have crossed at least five different languages \u200b\u200bamong those paths. The Spaniard dominated the speech speed of Cubans and Dominicans, giving an impression to the Caribbean segment of New York, who rounded off faster, while lying on the Portuguese immigrants in Brazil. Small groups of children, discovering it was surprised, then had to build bridges between the two languages, such as the lexical trait d'union between the two Iberian spoken. And ended up using terms that Howard still did not know, but who were the musical fusion of the two periods. There was no doubt.
It was a strange world, where many Mexicans were the team to himself and where there was no room, you knew very well, for other races. That they were Irish or Italian. Of the latter, considered the Latin American development as a more acceptable, more softened. Without clothes with bright colors, no vulgar gestures, without eyebrows and shady fronts brachitipe. "The difference - you said - is that a generous gesture of those, can conceal dark intentions, while at the Barrio what they seem, they are".
generally admired the Romance languages. All, without distinction and, indeed, I envied the joint vocabulary, that vocabulary diverse and multifaceted that its language, however, proposes reduced dried. Misunderstanding and being misunderstood. "It 's like - you said, sitting on a park bench - have infinite more possibilities to explain, to argue, to describe, without resorting to repetition in some cases staggering of the English language." Envy why his new friend De Los Rios. I envy his ability to combine the two languages \u200b\u200band disunity, his chiseled phrases in English mosaics of the English language. Realising demiurge of a new, very personal and unique way of explanation. It was probably true: Paco was not a poet, but an engineer of the period. A man and a foundation for building bridges between languages \u200b\u200band dialects. As a foreman of a possible tower of babel. It turned out lucky to have known him when his career was kneeling in front of the parking genius, everything Catalan, Gaudi. A stop hoping that as long as possible.
The Edge of the Barrio, and was directed toward the first stop agibile Metro New York, was later a witness a scene that would change course, intentions. He watched the flight of uneven stairs of a building taken ill, a young father with her legs spread to lock your child protective Creole.
not understand what attracted him, perhaps the innocence of the scene, perhaps the scent of the flower shop next door, most likely the voice of a dad in shorts who taught words to his son "Izquierda Derecha ... ..." And then "... Derecha Izquierda. . 'The child of perhaps a year, looked dazed, as if to say love him "Papa do not bother, it's too soon," while dad in his early twenties, tank top, was holding the little hands, enlarging and close as the laying rhythm of "Derecha Derecha ... ... ... Izquierda Izquierda. At the fifth time the baby was crying prorotto a clear explanation. Far from suffering, closer all'assillo. The father had pulled up with two hands before taking it down on his thigh smoother, had brought his small South American nose to her lips, bite them. As if to sum up all the kisses in the world in a gesture only.
a gesture that moved and found Lovecraft, pungent, came the thought. It was said that thirty-six years were beginning to be too much to have a child and find a thousand excuses. It was said of her work, she told the women, those few, and even wrong, he returned to the inadequacy of Sonia. On his emotional sterility, that had seven years older than him. Age impossible.
He thought then to withhold thoughts blows, stemming with "What was that? ... What would face? ... What dreams would he do? ..." The usual questions that make men and women in the mood for melancholy. But this time, that had nothing to do. Howard knew it.
What meat would have his children, and that language, and who desire to live, he told himself before the stop s'infossava in the subway, he had really wanted to know. He dodged the blow
how does a boxer have enough played before entering the ring. What forces do not have to hit hard and heart, but only agility to dodge "Right ... left right left ...". In the end he had done. His time was running out, did not take a punch that was one. Was intact in its uselessness parent
"right .. left ... right .. left" had tripped in the subway and decided to head to Central Station and unknowingly he had thrown a bridge with his past.

"What are you doing?" He had asked Sonia, leaning on his shoulder, now more than four years before
The train was crowded and smoky. They had found a place, only fatigue, sitting on the steps of compartment bags. Packed, tight, love. There were
projects, there was love, there was passion.
"Nothing touches your arm ..." The Howard said smiling, while stroking one finger with a white skin, even toned arms and face.
Come on ... "
" Leave it had extended his laugh-a writer - I want to see, to hear that my children will meats "
And it was lying on what looked dark, like a veil of sadness, misunderstanding never clarified, and quell'idillio serenity gave way to an absence of words that they suffered harm. At both.
It was the only time that Howard had believed, and his belief was extinguished by the very fact that he had on.
"I feel that my children will meats"

He took the ticket to Cleveland and became immersed in reading drafts of other stories.
That made him feel good, I was thinking without thinking, made it something else all the reality around him. It made it easier to remove the thorns, oblivious that he was always easier. No meaning, no perception, only emotion. What comes from within, and that allows you to reach new extreme originality, aesthetics of amazing complexity. He had been quite
for him, make the gesture intense and instinctive, to decide on that stage. To this day there would be no further contact with reality, you could, you had to design, write, get excited. By themselves, from within, as amphibious hermaphrodite which has in itself the seeds of both procreation. It will only be fruitful. How to be sufficient unto itself. To its species.
traveled at night and wrote in the light of his small flashlight in the car empty.
He planned to Cthulhu and his progeny, outlined other stories, threw his imagination beyond any obstacle. He stopped on the bestial forms. Walked around, jumped, he sent. Sieve as a gold prospector. Its period went on the action, dialogue reported that he loved, he lingered on the descriptions monstrous as unusual block its creation.
was not afraid to have lost the thread, and simply omitted omitted again. As a child he discarded the vegetables in the pot and stab his fork into a slice of roast chicken. No mother
writers reached a slap on him.
slept three hours before reaching its destination.

His destination was a great big room, divided by the entrance compartment by a wooden counter. Beyond which a long row of identical desks, confused views. If it were not for the feminine movement that the soul, Howard would judge it to be a prison for writers who knows what attitude. Prone on the desks, throwing his eye on the next sheet, soberly dressed women fighting continued on the keys of the "Remington". Unmistakable latter, as a Lovecraft. Churches
Sonia, waited a few moments and one of the files right, his strong-willed wife, nose glasses, rose unmistakable. It seemed never gets old. The thought of once again seeing her coming towards him, with his haughty look, full of dignity.
"Howard Hello"
"Hello ... I have come to greet you a"
After whispering, decided, with the old boss, Sonia Greene picked up his bag and Howard came up with.
"So, tell me?" Pressed gently, yet aggressive, doing right away to see her husband for that one time, she would be to conduct the report. She would have said, she would explain.
"I wanted ... I wanted to talk. You did not say anything about the decision you have taken. I wanted to understand "
The air was fresh, the lakefront in Cleveland was led by a bright sun.
"You want to understand? Smile-without irony - and you need to know Howard? My hats are not sold, they are not closed and I returned with his creditors. I left. Everything here, "
" Yes, but we ... "
"We do nothing, Howard. There is no "we." Never existed. " His face was peaceful, as his words, in spite of them. "I do not know if it was my fault .. I do not know. I just know that you've never been, even the few times you were there. I'm sorry for you Howard ... Maybe my words are too simple, but I find these to explain now. Of us "
" I have not ever taken care of you "Howard squeezed his hat in the two hands.
"I have loved you for that. Did not I married to slow down your incredible talent, with my mediocrity ... I just wanted to love me. In your way, whatever. There are successful. I knew it would difficult ... I never thought that I would not even had a chance, yes "
" I write. Our designs, your stories. I wanted to make you the best of me. I wanted ... .. "
" Our plans? - Sonia pulled her head back slightly in a gesture of quiet anger - my stories? Howard ... No, there is no "my" story. There .. there is only your talent projected onto me. I wrote to you, I've lived in your neighborhood. Eh not the physical - smiled without malice. " I have lived the fact that you were there. Somewhere. With the body and mind. I draw the hope that that part of your being, a small, perhaps infinitesimal part, was dedicated to me. In your thoughts, in your heart ... "
" In my own write .. "
" No, no that. Never, not once I had hoped. I already knew that was something you, essential, not divisible. Yes, I have tried of coming back, but you were always too far away. Unattainable, even in the letters you wrote to me. Your writing, Howard is a great thing, I am too small for you - stood up and looked at him as a hope to be heard - it is my talent, my emotion is so different from yours ... I tried to make me useful in your everyday life. Yes, I confess: I hoped to be essential in the few weeks that you have given me, I pushed too hard. You ran away ... There is no other reason, the explanation you give is this. There is not another ".
Howard felt stupid. Do not ever happened to him, he could not handle this. So he stayed silent for a moment and his eyes jumped over the wall. Among the discrete waves of Lake Erie, he flew on a few sailboats in the distance and then sank back down from above.
"What did you do Howard? - You said - Why did you come from Sonia? "
" You're at least glad to see me? "The man did as a child
She smiled at him, stopping a moment. Again.
"I'm always happy to see Howard. I'm always worried about you. "
Then the writer began to tell of his trip to Europe. He told her all of Italy, and continued to walk and she watched him with his stern gaze that melted in dense, fragrant intense eyes and shiny. He spoke of Antoni Gaudi in Barcelona and the invitation "Where - said sitting at a table in a restaurant - would go with the certainty that awaited him an important task. That was worth a lifetime. " He explained that he had wanted to investigate anything and that the pleasure to discover his mission in Catalonia, it would leave the words of the architect.
did not need to tell him of his stupor, his virulent happiness, the new force that gave life to his writing and his desire to lay the foundations for new stories in a manner totally new for him. Those in the proximity of the reference to a single, large Mother horror. That of Cthulhu. Stories that have had the privilege of having a European origin. Catalana. With all the incredible unfolding of new horizons inspirational that followed it. Sonia
followed him with longing of exhausting all its sweetness, extended himself and sometimes his eyes, jumped over the lake, making vent his imagination. All projected on Howard, on his dreams, his goals. His face nice feature of the hard and hardened woman, betrayed all the infinite tenderness, all his unspoken love, secure in the womb, chained hours. In order not to bark, to keep it up man to leap from the thin lips and chin jutting.
was the last act of love for Sonia Howard: listen to his plans, his travels, the story, its future and know that she would not have been a member. Hide, keep in him all the love and the strength of his dreams. Dreams that were so easy to love. To be loved. Howard
not. Howard did not notice anything, as he told and explained and raving. Did not even notice the slight tremor of the upper lip of Sonia. An imperceptible Ukrainian woman who hid the quiver with his handkerchief, as if to wipe something.

the late afternoon, body time to say goodbye. Lovecraft offered to accompany Sonia to her work and there was a moment of silence just before arriving.
"And what will you do now," asked the writer
"I'm here at the Standard Oil. It 's a good job. I also found the house, nothing that ... "
wife's face had become serious again,
He took his two hands" Hey Sonia ... "
" Go Howard. Go "She broke off, decisive and bowed his head.
He turned to look at continuing with the neck shot on the first steps, with as a look of bewilderment and self-awareness. Limits. Then he gave her neck.
By midafternoon, the central streets of Cleveland came back to invigorate male figures. They were office workers, refinery workers, the laborers who worked in the great company of Rockefeller. Howard dived into it, following the trail towards the station.
felt like an emotional void. Not given the time to go over all the promises that he had done and to see with the eyes of his soul, alone in a city that was not his to do a job that was not his.
returned to the coldness of a child's unconscious mind to wander with his stories about the future. Sonia

the looked after him for a while 'Just for a bit' more.

Scandanavian Decorations

earthquake We do not fear your movements, do not scare us the shock of those that create cracks in the walls and indelibly marked with the earth makes its voice heard. We
earthquake come from geographically or over time difficult and bad management are now, without the land which we can not live but which we carry as a burden, in regret of not being able to contribute to the development and resignation atavistic that our parents complain enough to make us feel guilty. We
quake inside, without a goal since our origins we are thrown into a distorted reality, who can not find key points why do not we have ever been ..
express ourselves in many other languages \u200b\u200bbecause it would be all too clear if we were to say in ours, we live and adapt to all situations, we have a joke ready and we always know what to say, have taught us that the glass of wine and the small one, which Berlusconi, but no vote is and always will be there, the fixed place is the ultimate goal, which Rome is better than Milan, which the South is corrupt, that Rita Pavone has made history and that Laura Pausini is in the world.
We are full of experience, we can tell people that our grandparents could not even dream of but we have an emptiness inside dictated by this wandering, from not having time to build relationships between moving and other things, from not being able to create only to attend as spectators in disbelief at a series of episodes.
The earthquake created a crack similar to those of an erupting volcano that eventually make us fall, down from the pedestal to realize the importance of friendships new and old, the fascination of odors and the pleasure of chatting in the language that you carry from time immemorial.
We are a generation forced to not take itself seriously in order to pretend not to be afraid of this existential earthquake ..

What Color Eyes Nadia Bjorlin

Derecha ... The occasion of the form 12 ^ - Three fingers


Howard every morning, was in New York or Providence is thoroughly buffed fingernails, shaving and after them. Then, with satisfaction, dry after rinsing, if admired. Neither too long nor too short but very white. It was a feeling that made him feel good but that lasted so little. Already by mid-morning had to resort to other treatments. He could not stand the light black strip that is formed continuously and that he knew of manual labor, dirt invading the places he frequented. It felt peevish annoyance, until they were back to normal. So long times of the year had begun to turn into gloves, which cared for mostly clean and sterilize the inside, turning it over.
several times with Sonia, that his obsession was a source of dispute. A newly married when first, created this compilation of her husband, the woman he had joked about Ukraine:
"Howard what can you do? It 's like for clothes: there are those who wear the pinstripes in the morning and evening still seems like a model, some after a quarter of an hour that she's wearing, he has already reduced a rag ... Resigned to not having always white nails and do it over. "
Under many of these small intrusive and inadequacies of other much more serious twin, Howard failed to exceed the pace of the first few months of living together in Brooklyn and had taken to avoid the occasions of meeting with his wife. Increasingly absent from the long winter evenings, snatched away by the "Circle of amateur journalists," more and more absent during the summer when he called his Providence. What had become, in the end, a "non-marriage." Where the only one to show some dignity in appearances Sonia had been "taken" by his hat, from the care of the house, from the hopes of his wife, but never by her husband. When Lovecraft

drove from Providence to return to New York, found that this time he would not even touch to explain to Sonia. Indeed, it could not even go to her husband's greeting was reasonable "out of business." She had moved to Cleveland after the failure of his small company of hats and left him room to act in New York, without realizing it. No one. So
had returned from Paco de Los Rios and had even had time to pleasant surprises.
He longs to see the Mexican exile. Want to submit his work. It was translated quickly and well. Then there was the letter to be sent to Antoni Gaudi. He hoped that the translation was made ready for the next day. Since these are just a few lines.
Paco had offered a coffee and while, with a curious coffee, waiting for the bubbling over the flame, had picked up the sheaf of paper with the story of Howard. The last was briefly reading a few step-by-case leaning against the kitchen ceramic.
He said, therefore, its price and Lovecraft had smiled.
Paco, Lovecraft created, was a curious character. He was humorous and intelligent eyes, a dry and sleek without being high. Wavy, graying hair, but on a black raven.
She moved her hands fast with gestures of ancient elegance.
had loaded the pot above the flame. He had done with right-hand impression of movement and rhythm, using the enforceability of thumb and forefinger. The only two fingers that were still in the right. His hand, the transaction had been for a few seconds within the flame, but was not burned. Absence had made his advantage. A handicap his greatest honor. At least in the transaction to be a thick and very black coffee.
Then he jumped and blackened the cafeteria had been drinking together. Like two old friends.

"I'm not a poet, Mr. Lovecraft, had said at one point the Mexican-but I understand that what I am translating is not poetry. It 's something more. Or less, depending from the soul you have. So many people come to me to ask such services. Mostly married men who wish to keep in touch with their fans in South America. Then there are the business letters and those between relatives. The market holds good for those who has a beautiful handwriting. But things like its not. I never translated ... "
" You like? "Retorted Howard peaceful.
"I do not know" He smoothed the graying goatee.
"But there's one thing I'd like to know, Mister Lovecraft ..."
"Yes"
"How? How do you imagine these things and not be afraid of? "The eyes of De Los Rios had grown thin, almost serentori.
"Yo I create this ... I think it is hard, then to return to reality. Esposa a nasty, hateful
a niño, el trabajo ... The boss. How do you ...
"not to become unstuck from reality?"
"Exact"
Howard Lovecraft had looked at his translator and, in a moment, decided he wanted to trust, to say a few words to explain. In his shrewd logic, had tried and decided, but only at that time and in the face of the impertinent question, that if the Mexican would be crippled his translator, who was just beginning to understand. At least in outline. So sipped from the cup smoky, ironically became serious, and spoke. Without claiming to be understood on the fly.
Paco she was French Exposition? That's two years ago here in New York? I
yes - Howard smiled. " In Hall was the home of the new technologies of the future. In every room at least one mouth to the current, even in two other ... They showed us how to live a few years, maybe twenty. Almost all homes will be equipped with those mouths. And there will be openings for radio and for machines that wash the dishes and wash clothes to cars. To keep food cold. Work around electricity, thanks to the mouths, the outlets which will be linked ... "
Paco De Los Rios looked dazed, not so much what he said, as to how. Howard had a light, a flame in his eyes that you carried on the crest of his words. Leaving a trail. As a long way of clues to track and reach. Where he was already.
"... I - Howard said - I thought as a man connected with so many mouths to these cables. My passions, my reality, my desires are connected to these roses. Only instead of bringing current, these cables bring life. She understands me Paco? "
" Honestly no, "the translator He sipped his coffee. Not at all shameful. The writer liked this impudence.
"Each of us have emotions - Howard hung up - some with more strength, those with less intensity. But these, thick or thin they are, are fueled by our thoughts, especially from our senses. "
De Los Rios followed him close. Skeptical.
"I unplug the emotions from my senses, my thoughts. Cut to their spines than those sockets. I can not feel anything. I do not need, I fear, I regret that my senses can food. There are only emotions. Pure emotion that I come from within. From my imagination.
I do not know why, but it is.
I do not know if it becomes, but if it is the reality of my passions that I feel I have to give up. I'm giving up and going forward ... I go on, because it is my idea, my emotion, that must survive, no matter what is private "
" Estas site, sabes? "
" Please? "
" Nada ... Nothing. But this is a life of sacrifice, Mr. Lovecraft. Not to be satisfied for ever. For what? "
" For inner freedom. Who does not feel, does not need. Who do without, is not afraid. Fear not the conditions.
If I were afraid of what I write, or because I believed my senses are connected to my emotions, I could not write "
" What is life? Mister Lovecraft ... A life of fear of fear "
There was a moment of silence, then looked back at Howard Paco.
"The shortage?" He made a small nod, pointing to the right of the translator stretched out on the table next to the cups. He thought that the hand open and incomplete, in the "L" formed by thumb and forefinger, and unnatural curve of the fingers missing, was similar to the tip of a pike.
"No, my fingers I do not miss. Only when the weather changes. Pinched.
"I saw how I prepared the coffee - said Howard seriously - ... If I had had, he could be so clever, so quick. It would be burned. Is this what you did is a really good coffee "
Paco De Los Rios broke out in a fine laugh upright, while his eyes shone awake. Howard then told of his three fingers of his life in Guadalajara and how he had learned English in a few years. As a refugee, from the first in the dusty neighborhood library, then who delivered newspapers at home. He was a man of vivid intelligence. A man who did not waste a moment of his life.

The translation of the letter to Antoni Gaudi would be ready the next day. Paco gave it to him not only as a tribute to the translation of the story that would be ready by early June, but pushed Howard to accept his hospitality for the night.
"Puedes dormir ... aquì can sleep here, Mr. Lovecraft. This room is closed forever. I use it sometimes when they come to visit me from Mexico. There is always someone who needs accommodations "
" Relatives? Wife? "
" I'm not married and my family knows where they are. No, they are friends or friends of friends ... in my country is not easy to live, even today. So every time someone knocks on my door. I open forever. You never know what the future holds for you Mr. Lovecraft, although you can be good or lucky. But so I want to do. I do not ever let anyone out, I never had done with me. "

dined with "mole negro" and red wine that is brought to him by Paco tavern in home, then drank tequila and talked of Zapata and Villa, Calvin Coolidge's foreign policy and the embargo to Mexico. The former accountant reeled from a wooden box, three or four cigarillos and whether they smoked, after having unsuccessfully offered to the writer. Finally, about ten o'clock, De Los Rios Howard walked to his room.
"I hope the noise does not disturb. My house is a sea-port of the Mexican said, smiling - people will at all times ... "That night
Lovecraft struggled to fall asleep, leave the windows open. He listened to the voices coming from the street below, the cackle of the young and then, just as his eyes were closing, feel the entry door that opened a creak. Some ticking in the hallway and some laughing softly. Quell'inequivocabile woman walking on heels, I cleared first and then the curious. Stretched ear and waited. And beautiful to hear the inevitable sound of first kisses and passionate Latin whisper of his host.
It was said that was the time to fall asleep, but did not have time. He remembered the features of its sober and volitional Sonia. The only thought in Cleveland, back order, judge angry with him, he felt as close to the neck of the stomach, but he wondered what it was. He used his forms to distract the imagination of writer dream, returning to the sprawling Cthuluh, all'eccheggiare its Soggoth, their horrible stench, give birth to their homes by the immensity of the cavernous underground, the ranks of disciples of unclean human cruelty.
our thoughts turn to Sonia.
was a thought that went out in that light winds of April. A wind that speaks of summer, but that does not make you forget the winter, when you close your eyes because you're tired.

Average Calgary Utility Bill

folk music always leaves you a lump in my throat. I believe there are authors who are capable of providing a sense of belonging to the land they're singing. My
few incursions into Andalusia make me feel something like that, the story of a poor but fertile land, full of cultures that blend to create unforgettable sounds.
Flamenco can be noisy and not very elegant expression of a part of local culture but, like all popular music, so did representatives of good that you fall in love the feelings of clapping, guitar accompanying entries that follow a life rhythm .

So even the exaggeration, the scripted, almost half of vulgarity character is converted into the passion and poetry.

Fakku.net What Happened?

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Necktie With Pittsburgh Penguins

The occasion of the form 10 ^ - Estrela



Daily Antoni Gaudí started his lonely study, every morning, slightly hunchbacked, and not as a curious effect of his beard, white, pendant, pensive, walking away with his hands folded behind his back.
It was always the same road, crossed the path of the shops, then slipped in the goldsmiths' street, crossing the Rambla "central", regardless of everything. Noise around him, the smell of spring in the spring, the smell of roasted chestnuts in the fall, already browned on the morning of the braziers outside food shops. It was like an ethereal figure, a sacred stray animal that ever walked the same road, at the same time and headed to work. Sunk in thought.
Retailers, women who at that hour of the morning doth their clothes, putting them in the summer heat mentioned, the children going to school, even the Carabineros in pairs, they had learned to know him. To respect his pregnant distance. He seemed to be there forever and as the years passed, and his gait grew only slightly lame, admiration for that old architect grew. Transforming it into an icon, a monument of a mobile and creative Barcelona alive and responsive source of arts and crafts, beauty, youth ascetic.
The people of Catalonia that adored him, Antoni noticed it at times when her mental commitments allowed him to extend his eyes on the sides of the road. It happened less often. There was always someone who smiled at him. From the door of a door ajar, the open window the cool morning, from the carriages, silent, parade. A touch on the hat of a gentleman in a double, an imperceptible bow boss lady rouge, a respectful slow pace of the schoolboy in uniform.
Antoni Gaudí felt Gaudi Barcelona and Barcelona drew on his instinct to grow, to look good and important. In return, the city was protecting his genius, took care of the Quiet and discreet, as if the noise could disrupt a greeting that splendid synergy. The continuous exchange. No one in those endless mornings would dare interfere with the step of Antoni. But everyone would be ready to welcome him to help him with a hint of need.
There was, then, that someone was following him at a distance. Certainly not to be seen, as quell'incedere head bowed. Someone who liked him closely, but he could stay away and that, indeed, it felt like a task. A sort of mission espiativa.
always in order, Antoni went to the site, perhaps after a full night of study on its drawing board, rather than bounced in his frau ergonomic. Where to spend hours studying, retouching, ritratteggiare to the drawings of his collaborators, with whom he spoke little, and merely pushed around quietly when needed, drastic cuts in the silence of certain structures, mosaics, ceiling medallions and figures. Unlike designed by its young architects.

the morning he received the answer to Howard, was one of the most difficult.
The work proceeded slowly in that April of 1926 and it was the fault of Antoni. He knew it too.
Her body began to give way, slowly. His mind though lucid during the measurements in the calculations, a more technical appearance of his design, as was dormant for months. He happened to be bent on the structure of a column cast polished up for hours and not be able to enjoy a touch of originality that the abstract was easy, until recently. For this creative crisis Antoni had granted the stay in Paris, this creative crisis was beginning to whisper into Gaudí, Don was in decline, too old to carry on his work.
Too often in recent months, the curia had sent him in the yard of the strange visitors dressed as priests, more or less noble lineage, to the edge of the cardinal. Under the guise of admiration the work. "... Appreciate the progress."
Too many times, most recently, they were asked about the future, the future, on "Development of here ... .. On next representation there. " Certainly no one even dared to question the success of his undertaking, but the site was costing a lot and the weather was too little. Even the one to give an absolute genius.
Antoni Gaudi knew, but this did not prevent a finding that bitterly to himself and whispering all the time: "Ask an old man of the future of tomorrow ... ... What a painful insult. " Then come back to lean on the renewed sense of inadequacy that made him suffer, exacerbating his silence.

That morning ritual of the solitary walk was innervated with renewed strength. Among the papers, pocketed a few minutes he had found a warm and enthusiastic letter that bore the Howard Lovecraft stamp of Brooklyn, New York.

"Dear Master Gaudi
I can not express my gratitude for the attention that she wanted to pay me for my business. Even so for me it was daring to hope that he could understand my creative little drama. Now that you are showing interest in my work and I called him I can represent all the assurance of my joyful surprise.
I used the money he so generously wanted to send me to get the translation of my last story, conceived during my trip back from Europe. The timing of the revision given, as you pointed out to me, the same translator, did not allow me to be able to provide up to month June. Month in which, if I show appreciation, I decided to accept his invitation and join him in his Barcelona.
will be with all my tireless dedication that I will get to it, whatever may be the commitment that she has in mind for me ... "

The letter, as well as warm greetings, ended with an indication of possible arrival in Barcelona. A ship, the first since the second half of June, would be playing right at the end of the month, arriving in Catalonia in the first days of July. Antoni said that those dates would have been good and, once on site, gave indication Esteban prepare the trip of his host. He wanted Howard traveling in a first class, to book now. He handed this letter to his young assistant, while his singing was marred by another ugly episode.
A boy of only seventeen, agile laborer, had fallen to twenty meters to his death on the spot. Antoni
it was once again torn to the core. It was not the first time that happened. In the decades had been several deaths at work in the yards of Gaudi. A tragically normal average for those years, but each time "the architect of God" s'incolpava for that. In the latter period
then, had begun to think that any accident at work at that site was in any way attributable to his slow, its not creating more fluid. It was a really bad thought. One that distracts you, distracts you from your ambitions. A morbid thought, like a crack in the lucid rationality of a man who had so long been able to bend his original vein, turning it into genius.
Every death in his yard for many years, cost the master the high price of endless sleepless nights and the low cost of a large sum of money made anonymously sent to the families of the deceased. Where Antoni deprived himself with masochistic pleasure.
But now no longer sufficed.
to silence his remorse, which add up to each other in whirling spirals ever more nights in Catalan.
His creativity was leaving him. What's more, was dying, slowly, in the crevices of an aged mind that, in the stages of an inevitable retreat, was now relegated to a normality that Gaudi could not afford.
So often, at the foot of a shiny, at the bottom of a personal note in his notebook, he wrote only apparently meaningless phrases. Hushed laments, confessions delusional.

"... There are too many times, too many needles, too many roses to conceive ... I need time I can not grow like that ... Who will continue my work? My ambition will not prosecutors. It will be won by herself ... Won by itself "

Tonight Antoni lingered alone to the yard, waited until the last of the builders you leave, check out the machines and tools, and stayed. Only. Sitting on a large block of stone.
rested her chin on her hand and elbow on his legs crossed, in a pose of serenity while, inside, the soul is crumpled on itself.
waited the night lights filtering from the walls in the project, began to caress his beard then wrote in his notebook:
"Mr Howard will help with my creativity, give words to forms that do not exist, open spaces in this place, stretch ricombinerà size and color. The same that I would have designed if I were not so old. I give him my knowledge. Bend my technical knowledge to his talent, I will offer my experience, the erudirò, I'll make different man. Able to continue that. ... When will all this ... when you see all this, will understand its purpose. Will not need words. No one else I know can do it. "
spent hours wandering around the yard desert, illuminated by the reflected lights of the surrounding streets by a crescent moon that shone on the white marble and fell, almost imperceptibly, through the maze of his beautiful creature. A night of emotions, decisions, courage infinite.
incredible physical strength in quell'ultrasettantenne that he was losing himself.
"My God, to whom I dedicated my work - it was his complaint within, which became quiet prayer, written on notebook - sorreggimi, accompanied by my wits, do not make me lose. Give me the strength to dictate my future work, the courage to seek new life for my ideas. My God sustains my arrogance, presumption assign other, push my seed ambitious, make it fruitful in the belly of another healthy mind, one heart. Do not let this get lost, forget my poor life, let my years spent are lost to you, but do not let the ideas are lost. Those do not belong to me. Are yours, as yours is all of this. Please my God, Bless my work in this difficult time "

Those were the first words that were understandable prose marked up that little book, heavy on the other drawings, symbols, calculations and sketches mess.

The next morning was Sunday. Esteban Labruna was awakened in his studio by raps on the door. He got up with her hair up and gelatinous eyes and went to open the rancid breath of those who had drunk a bit 'too much the night before.
"Excuse us Mr. Labriola has to come with us" and they made two burly men dressed resigned.
"What?" Sent the young man, puzzled and a bit 'scared, as you focus.
"He gave his address the scope of the study" and he one of them, with their hands while massacring the brim of his hat and waved slightly.
"Come with us, please. Maybe there is not much time ... ". Esteban had recognized Rinaldo, one of the master builders of the site. One of those lower leg.
The other, unknown, and Labruna dressed the best, almost stuttering slowly began to explain.
climbed up on a dusty pickup truck, the three faced the half-deserted streets of Barcelona, \u200b\u200bin pushing up the sbuffoso half. Labruna drove off the face of the window as if to recover by yet disturbed sleep and problematic. Him had Bestin still smell sex Estrela. A dancer from the Portuguese breasts and long legs who, despite her beauty, had cost him so little.
Once in a central area of \u200b\u200bthe city, Rinaldo abruptly stopped the vehicle and the three got out of racing, put on a narrow street with long strides. Just as the street widens, their race was stopped behind a cloud of silent people. Without such contemplation.
were made off abruptly.

"Here Mr. Labriola. It 's so ... at least four hours from just before the sun rose. We know this because the first one to notice it was a scavenger who lives nearby. Nobody had the courage to do anything. "
Esteban felt his heart pounding in my throat, it seemed like a flush of shame that encircled her from behind and made him spin.
gasped, flushed, leaving the blink lasted an eternity.
How not to see. Do not understand.