Wedding Introduction Slide

Walking slowly through the streets. X

"Human thoughts are like rooms. Among them are luxurious rooms and shacks saturated. Some are sunny and shady. Some overlook the river and sky, others to the backyard or basement. The words in them resemble things and can be changed from one room to another. The thoughts within us in reality, these rooms within, grouped in palaces or quarters may be other dwellings where one turns out to be only a tenant. Sometimes, especially at night, Find yourselves that the outputs of these rooms are locked and can not abandon them. We are locked in a dungeon and until our dreams release us and leave us out. But dreams are like guests at a wedding, you have to wait. Meanwhile, Queen insomnia. They say that there are two sleepless nights, and two sisters. The pre-sleep and the other, after waking in the night. The first is the mother of lies, the other is the mother of truth.

Since I live alone insomnia haunts me more and more often and I will resist with a method I developed with great eagerness. Everything happens in bed and in my mind. And all, somehow, is related to my profession of interior design expert. First select a household in the city that best serve me for these purposes. Some built with oat straw prevents evil powers of the underworld to rise to the rooms. By placing a house with these features begin to furnish it and fix it every night in my mind. A furniture fill my invention. But I do not fix this house motivated only by the desire to look good. I'm conditioning for a particular person. To JM. And exclusively for the needs of that person.

all started well.

During my walks in the afternoon I chose a small palace and I inquired what could be its origin. In the very beginning of the street that goes Kraljevica Marka curved from the docks of the Sava into Zeleni Venac breaking wind. Its façade is full of beautiful cross split windows today are no longer made. (...)

During my sleepless nights instead of counting how many times in my life bought me nice shoes that fit well, I decided to populate and furnish the house Chelovich Luka. I knew this house JM liked and that was decisive for my choice. JM had a deep sense of "zones" with positive energy, as other well. The part between the Cathedral and the river Sava was for her a "zone" undeniably beautiful. There, on the slope down to the Sava smells like autumn winter and spring to winter, and JM considered when entering this area began to take his real name. Just out of the "zone" otherwise called, was someone else. That is, the choice fell on Chelovich Luka family home was in that "zone".

Upon entering the building in my memory as a spell whispered in each of its rooms one of the seventeen letters of the name of JM.

Now I can say that at that time was already well under way, certain preparations of particular kinds. During the time that I saw a noticeable JM daily movements in his arms and delicate hands, his gait and hair, the posture of his neck and beautiful shoulders and thighs, moving her breasts to sit, rotations of the body, the role of its legs curled up on the couch or running around your head stopped to listen, long before the rest of us, the roar of the plane carrying the bombs ... Then I wrote a small "dictionary movements "of JM. For each of them established a sign. It was particularly difficult create signs for their unique dance steps. Always danced alone, never even danced with me, but that dance was the most beautiful in it. In my dictionary had signs similar to those used by Russian ballet experts early last century, such as Nijinsky, to mark their scores. I put in the dictionary for easy location. It was like a catalog of moves, like a secret alphabet. Something similar to the keyboard of the computer from which are controlled jumps, races, swimming or turns adult video game heroes that JM and I used to call "novels without words." To cause such activities invented different types of furniture, because every part of provide other household movement JM: opening a door, pull out a drawer, off the table on the desktop. "

Milorad Pavic," La Cage White Pagoda shaped Tunisia (occurs in the home of Luka Chelovich, Kraljevica Marka street, number 1), "Seven Deadly Sins in , Mexico, Sixth Floor, 2003 . ISBN 9-789685-679114

Psychology Of Craigslist

Quim Monzo, "White Christmas"

"At first everything was normal, if normal means that a being fabulous blond curls to her shoulders and goose feather wings, as they sometimes escape seams for quilts, go down to the house of Mary and, there, in the atrium of Roman columns - yes that was strange: Romanesque columns in Nazareth - will announce the good news. But in fact, everything was exactly the same way: being fabulous, of blond curls to her shoulders and goose feather wings, with almond eyes from blue, green and pink, and a beauty, but unspeakable , asexual, fell to Mary's house - a modest home but clean and well cared for, and with pots of geraniums along the atrium columns, Romanesque as we have said - to announce the good news: it was full of grace and blessed among women. Mary gasped. The archangel, seeing the woman's trepidation, she realized that was really scenic apparatus impressive, perhaps they had gone out of hand. To reassure him said he had no reason to be afraid, who simply had come to announce that they have a son called Jesus. The woman - why not? - Accepted the news of the archangel willingly and disappeared in a flash, with the same openness with which it had appeared. Hours later, when her husband, Joseph, returned from the workshop - was a carpenter, "Mary explained what had happened. Joseph stayed sweet potato paste.

also falls within the normal absolute disposal of the Emperor Augustus, who ordered that all subjects of the Roman Empire taxed, every one in the town or city where his family was originally. So Joseph and Mary took the donkey and went to Bethlehem. Mary was on the animal, sitting sideways, and Joseph on foot, pulling the reins. What - like Roman columns - was not normal at all was all that snow. When they reached Bethlehem saw the whole town was snowed up the horizon, on which field a black sky with stars of five and six points, still to be cut. In Palestine, the snow was a weather phenomenon almost ignored. Generations of citizens born and died without having known, and without worry least. And if they had heard it was for travelers from distant countries, even citing mountains where the snow is perpetual. The natives were listening with rapt attention, but as soon as the passengers ended her story, returned to their tasks without the snow made them lose even one hour of sleep. But now everything was snow, mountains, streets, rooftops, the job ... It was the chestnut powder, flour seemed as dust.

Due to the influx of people to register, they could find no spare room around Bethlehem. The people were not too friendly, nor the image of a pregnant woman moved them to pity. For this were forced to settle in an abandoned shed. Tidied into a corner, near a sleepy ox and donkey carrying. It was here, on Dec. 25, Mary gave birth. It was a beautiful child, healthy and weeping. Joseph picked him for cleaning. But Mary again required his attention. A second child was born.
were two beautiful children, and each type hologram with a halo over his head. After feeding them and put the diapers - fortunately Mary had planned spares - the lay down on a pile of straw, side by side. They shook hands. The ox and the donkey looked on askance.
- Are you sure you spoke of a child? Would not you say two and not you notice?

Joseph did not understand what had happened. That they were two disrupted all plans. Even something as minor as it's name. The angel had said to be called Jesus. It was a name that they disliked, nor were enthusiastic, if we have to be honest. At that time, the dominant names were Sandra, Vanessa, Kevin, Jonathan and even Sue Ellen, that seemed frivolous and pretentious. Joseph and Mary had thought of other names and had even made a list of his favorites: David, Samuel, Alexander, Abel, Moses, Ivan ... In all, they liked best was Alexander. It was a name and vibrant sound. If the angel had not made so clear I had to call him Jesus, he would put Alexander, no doubt. But at last, unable to be called Alexander, Mary and Jesus' name was fine. At some point, Joseph had proposed that he be called as: Joseph. Many of his friends put their name their firstborn. Why does not it? Mary had not wanted to hear about a possible change.
- The angel said to be called Jesus and was called Jesus.

spoke no more of it. Be called Jesus, was determined. But now they were with two children double what they expected. How do you call it? After thinking a lot about the solution found. One is called Jesus Maria and the other Jesus Jose. So respected the order to be called Jesus and incidentally satisfy the desire of Joseph, at least one of the two as he was called out even middle name.

That was only the beginning of duplication. Since then - pondered Jose - all would be twofold. Cribs, dresses, pacifiers, drinking dodotis. Him out of his brooding sound of hooves. Camels were permeated by a weak wooden bridge, the river, which seemed motionless as foil. When they reached the barn, the three wise men were stunned. It was the same surprise that Mary and Joseph had seen in the faces of the shepherds who had come to worship the child instead of one, had found two. One of the shepherds, who had brought a gift of a Jané pushchair car, rushed to exchange it for a dual model. Melchor, Gaspar and Baltasar - tanned men in a thousand battles and skillful in making decisions, react quickly and without which neither Mary nor Joseph would notice, pretending they were looking for gifts, divided into two roughly equal parts of gold, frankincense and myrrh.

Were both sons of God? Or just what was one of them? The question had no clear answer because, while in the bathtub to wash one of them (Jesus Maria) was walking on water - no stone left only his brother but his parents - it was the other (Jesus Joseph) who, when petitsuís were over, the multiplied without problems. This duality - estimated Alejandro as he placed beside the caganer cure umbrella - would be maintained over the years, until the end of his days. Alexander returned to align the two cribs, looked again the crib and ran to call his father, a distinguished member of Opus Dei, to go and see him. Confident congratulate him for his wit: instead of throwing the baby Jesus figurine of former manger (one of the few that were not broken), had joined the new, which had bought the day before the fair of Santa Lucia. I did not know, that night, his ingenuity would cost to go to bed without supper. "

Quim Monzo, Christmas Three, Barcelona, \u200b\u200bCliff, 2003. ISBN 84-96136-32-9

Ozark Trails Camp Fuel

Walking slowly through the streets. Etgar Keret

"I had to go to the island to lay this wreath of dried flowers on the grave of Anna. A pale circle bristling with stalks and spikes that one of the old Mirnoie had knitted for several weeks.

For me, that cruise the lake in the rain perfectly reflected the absurdity of existence that had Vera. Absurd also my wish, unexpected for myself, to accompany her: she was preparing the room, saw her pass by the street, I called from the window and asked, without knowing why, if he could accompany her. And, on top of stupidity, under a macho swagger, demanded paddling alone, standing as a gondolier operetta. Vera wanted object (wind, weight of the boat capricious ...), but in the end I left.

The wind was unstable, the bow of the boat danced on the right and left, and sank, not detach the thickness of the water where the paddle is dipped as wet cotton. To keep up appearances, I pretended agility, hiding the effort soon numb arms, temples tucked, eyes drenched with sweat. The woman who was sitting opposite me with the ugly and dry crowned at the knees, it was unbearable to the eye. Formally seated, insensitive to rain, wind, her spoiled life, the one day lost in an expedition decided by the whim of some old funeral half crazy. I looked at that face bent, lost in reverie faded guessed that by dint of returning to them every day for thirty years, dreams or maybe a vacuum gray uniform as those waters, those edges faded into the air laden droplets. "A woman who has become a monument to the dead abulante. A bride sacrificed at the stake of fidelity. A peasant Andromache ..." poisoned formulas as my effort was more exhausting. At one point I had the impression that the boat had stopped moving, stuck in the thick viscous waves. Vera's face lifted slightly, smiled, seemed to go to talk, and he changed his mind. "! The silly people! That's right. A wooden idol that these rednecks have struck at the entrance to his camp to deflect the rays of doom. A scapegoat offered to history. An icon in the shadow of which these poor collective farmers were able to fornicate, betray, steal, get drunk ... "

Exhausted from fighting the wind, I ended up waving the paddle rather mechanically, without conviction. The contour of the church looked paunchy as far. "Well have had to let go of the poor Vera, until sacase the title of master in a nearby city. Without doubt the single biggest trip of a lifetime. His openness to the world. Then, pull, to the fold, in lookout on the bench outside the door, with his ear hanging forever: what if it was the sound of the boots of a soldier? A dry crowned the tomb of Anna, yes, precious, my dear, but who will flowers on your grave? The old will die and you will not have another Vera to take care of you ... "(...)

Why not wake? Stop rowing, curl up before her, squeezing hands, swat better, traded to kiss his hands. "Sleep in a kind of premature death in half the time it stopped at sixteen, walking like a somnambulist in the midst of those elderly who remember the war and the march of soldiers .. . Live an afterlife, the dead should see what she sees ... "We played lightly

shore of the island. I jumped to the ground, pulled the bow of the boat in the sand, I helped Vera down. The think that this woman lived what not for us to live up to after the broadcast of a sudden death a meaning to his life, that I had seemed so absurd. A sense that shone through every step, every gesture.

(...) Suddenly I realized that this was how she lived her afterlife. A slow journey without apparent goal but marked by a simple and profound sense. The boat docked in the dark, in the exact place where we started. "

Andrei Makine, The woman waiting , Barcelona, \u200b\u200bTusquets, 2006. ISBN84-8310-344-3

...

Short Baby Shower Thank You Quotes

A trip to southern France (Languedoc-Roussillon)

Friends! I just came from Carcassonne and Narbonne (Carcassonne and Narbonne in French). A journey of 3 days (2 nights) has been very beautiful. As has been the holiday season, I decided to put this trip on my blog as soon as possible. I'm sure it will help some of you to plan out a little advantage these days "saved" with so much love throughout the year. Barcelona, \u200b\u200bCarcassonne is 3 hours away. Ideal to go with children or friends. The tempera1ura is more or less like that of Barcelona and it is a rainy place.

This time I will not force you to wake up early. You can leave when you feel like more because, Barcelona to the border you have an hour and a half and the border to Carcassonne another hour and a half short. Enjoy the scenery and make a short stop to stretch your legs is what I always advise. The service area of \u200b\u200bthe French motorways are a marvel.

Leaving La Jonquera take the A-9 to then change to the A-61, direction Toulouse. We leave the motorway at Carcassonne. Next to find out almost all hotels in economic chains. As they all have to leave the car park is a good option if we have decided to spend little. The other option is to go to a hotel in the Cité. These hotels are prestigious and more expensive chains. However, being in a medieval site is wonderful. You have to keep in mind that within the Cité is forbidden to drive. The car you have to park it outside the walls, whether you have the hotel if you have it inside and out.

Carcassonne has the largest fortified citadel in Europe. Built on a hill, is listed as Artistic-Cultural Heritage Site by UNESCO since 1997. The founding of the city dates back to the sixth century BC Its strategic location between Narbonne and Bordeaux allowed to join the Mediterranean to the Atlantic. In 1209, when he began the crusade, was a stronghold of the Cathars. Trencavel Viscount of Albi and Nîmes, took refuge in the Citadel. On August 15, comes to save the lives of its inhabitants. In 1226 Citadel keys go to the King of France. With St. Louis becomes the Royal Palace. Outside building a wall lined with 14 towers. The Citadel just having a double ring of walls and a total of 53 towers. Is when it reaches its peak.

Having been in ruins and thinking, the French government to demolish its walls due to its advanced degree of deterioration, this imposing symbol of medieval architecture and stronghold of the Cathar heresy, is rehabilitated for conservation and reborn in 1910, the works are completed, once again becoming today, a unique masterpiece that is necessary to visit and admire.

The entrance to the Citadel is free. However, in some parts of its interior there is an entrance fee. If you do not have time necessary or not you want to go inside any building, merely walking around the Citadel, walk through the narrow streets and admire its ancient buildings, is an unforgettable experience. Inside the Citadel there are hotels, shops, bars, restaurants, art galleries and homes. The Bridge on the River Aude, with its 12 arches, possesses a peculiar charm.

La Fortaleza, a fort in the middle of the Citadel, was the former home of the family Trencavel. It has a moat spectacular and the visit inside the enclosure must be done slowly and admiring each of the views over the walls and the country that offer their windows. You can also visit the museum that contains part of the history of the city and the region of the Cathars. Keep in mind that, being an ideal setting for congresses and conventions, when a major event celebrating the grounds of the Palace can not be visited by tourists.

Do not fail to enter the Church of St. Nazaire, built between 1096 and 1130, on a previous sixth-century Visigothic temple. Saint Nazaire was the cathedral until the nineteenth century.

The interior is Romanesque and Gothic. Both styles are superimposed on the architecture, sculptures, and the beautiful windows (stained glass). These stunning stained glass windows, located at 6 chapels, representing scenes from the life of Christ and his apostles.
In the choir you have to admire the carved pillars and statues in his columns.
The organ, in 1637, is one of the oldest in the South of France. Because of repeated restorations, you can only play classical pieces.

There is a grave headstone attributed to Simon de Montfort. Also you can see the "stone the siege "in memory of the site suffered in Toulouse in the thirteenth century.

In the two facades, the north and south, there are two" rosettes "of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries.

To enter or leave the "cité" there are four doors: East, between 2 towers, stands the gate of Narbonne, with a Gothic image of the Virgin.

The door to the Aude, formerly of Toulouse door is opened on the River Aude. Its construction dates back to the XIII and his mission was to prevent the enemy to go up to the walled city from the river.

Saint Nazaire door, located to the south, next to the tower that protected and defended Basilica of Saint Nazaire.

The door of the village or Rodez is located north of the wall between two towers, and is the least spectacular.

Carcassonne The region has much to offer. Typical vineyard land, vineyards compete with the rich architecture of the region. The cuisine also occupies an important place: number of Michelin stars are allocated among its most famous restaurants. Do not hesitate to try the "cassoulet" made of white beans, pork ribs and sausage. Some recipes are made with magret duck. The Camino de Santiago was declared a World Heritage Site by UNESCO, passes through Carcassonne . The third way and the least known, the GR-78, which is currently being put in the roads, the Via link Domitia happening, also Carcassonne.

70 km. Carcassonne and Narbonne only 15, is the Abbey Fontfroide. Located on the first buttresses of the Corbières, this historical place of the twelfth century is one of the most sumptuous Cistercian Abbeys and best preserved in France. annually hosts more than 100,000 visitors .

Founded in 1093, on land owned by the Viscount of Narbonne join, in 1145, the Cistercian Order. It is a period of greatness and expansion and Vocations are numerous. In 1348, because of the Black Death, lost three-quarters of its monks. However, the Abbey continues to be embellished with an unparalleled architecture until the beginning of the revolution. In 1791 the last monks have to leave the Abbey beginning an era of irreparable destruction. In 1858, a community of Cistercian installed, for several decades, but the Abbey in 1901 returns to be abandoned. Fontfroide goes on sale in the Court of Narbonne in 1908. There are several hypothetical buyers but attempting, is to take his country part of the architectural riches of the Abbey. It Gustave Fayet and his wife Madeleine d'Andoque who save this wonder of art and sumptuously restored. Their descendants still own today, continue with maintenance and Beautification of the Abbey.

Do not fail to admire the relog, late twelfth century, one of the most beautiful in the French midi. Its rooms are admirable proportions and purity of lines bordering on perfection. The windows, lavishly decorated by Richard Burgsthal between 1912 and 1925, flash with its shades of blue, orange and red. The kitchen is huge and the dining room is magnificent. Fontfroide Abbey is one of the places where "the stones speak."
present, apart from the tourists who visit every day, has been remodeled inside to hold seminars, conferences, conventions, concerts and events. There are rooms that are able to accommodate up to 500 people. You need at least 2 hours to enjoy this beautiful place. Go not in a hurry. If you can be in the morning, the better. The photographs are going to make wonderful with lots of light. At the end of the visit, do not forget to visit the rose garden with 3,000 roses of all varieties you can imagine (in winter there is much less). This Abbey grows and produces high quality wines. You can visit the cellars, taste and buy wines that you desire. The Abbey, from November to April, closes 4 in the afternoon.

I think it's time to head towards the coast. Specifically we are going to Gruissan, an authentic village. In Roman times it was an eminently fisherman village, located right in the mouth of the Aude. Today it is a place full of heritage and cultural curiosities. Barberousse tower is visible from afar. Built on the Rock in 1246, now only its vestiges. This tower, with its 35 meters above the sea, is the sure sign that we have come to this beautiful town. During the tenth century fortress, and later his tower, watching from this vantage point, the dangers that might threaten Narbonne and its region.

Climb the tower is almost mandatory. The view seen from above, with the red roofs of the houses, the marina, the fishing port, ponds, salt marshes and "aiguamolls" is spectacular. However, the climb is hard and not recommended for people who are fatigued, there are many steps and very steep.

Gruissan is part of a magnificent natural environment and is the starting point for discovering the beautiful Clape massif, a protected area since 1973 with an area of \u200b\u200b15,000 hectares. Within this area you can find 5 lakes that cover a third of the municipality.

In summer, its magnificent beaches, you can enjoy all kinds of water sports. In winter, stroll along the golden sands is a pleasure. In the late nineteenth century, the inhabitants of Carcassonne and Narbonne, this was the preferred place to "go to the bathroom." Currently, the port for pleasure boats has 1330 moorings.

The view of Gruissan arouses curiosity: the medieval village houses are rolled together to form concentric circles around the castle ruins. It was a way to build 1,000 years ago in this area of \u200b\u200bthe Aude. It is classified as "in circulades plus beau villages de France" Once in the village, in the old town, its streets paved with stones and old fishermen's houses, I go back many years ago without realizing it ... you can still see the nets to dry in the entries and the washing on their balconies!

Gruissant is also called "La Playa de los Chalets" by the houses erected on piles, remnants of the old fishermen's houses. These buildings, other than those of any town on the coast, were immortalized in the film by Jean-Jacques Beneixida, "37.2 ° C le matin." Are within 2 km. from the town center. The top 18 beach houses were built in 1870. There are currently 1,300 houses, between the old l new you.
Special mention should
his small church. The Church of the Assumption is built in typical style languedocien XII century. In the doorway we see a cross with an anchor. Inside we see the tabernacle, six pink marble columns, a chapel dedicated to Our Lady and in the eastern wall, a work of the painter Jacques Gamelin.
in low season Gruissant population does not exceed 4,500 inhabitants. In summer, nearly doubled.

Now we turn to Narbonne, only 20 km. On leaving the motorway, as usual, will find many hotels. However, if you desire a different experience, I recommend who decide on the "Rural Tourism." Among

Gruissant and Narbonne find accommodation of all categories. You can choose between farms, country houses and even mansions like ancient castles.

latter are advertised as "chateau". The difference between the tourism and hotels is that they "live" with the owners, eat with them at the same table, no room for children to enjoy the countryside and the food is different, since most owners grow their own vegetables and legumes in organic farming and open kitchen for guests ... even the desserts are 100% homemade!

The most important cultivate vineyards and produce wines of quality and, in others, including olive oil are of superior quality (first cold pressing). Well, what I'm saying is that, with the number of hotels there, eating well these days you have it secured.

And now let's talk about Narbonne. Narbonne was the oldest of the Roman colonies were founded in Italy in the year 118 BC Narbo-called Martius. Its heyday was purchased at time of Caesar Augustus. Its location in the heart of the Via Domitia made to become one of the most important cities of Gaul, until the end of the Roman Empire. Had an area of \u200b\u200bover 2 km. square. From the year 462 was the Visigoths. In 718 was occupied by Muslims. In the year 759, Narbonne was annexed to the kingdom of the Franks. Until the Middle Ages was ruled by the archbishop and the viscount, in equal parts. From the thirteenth century it was walled.

episcopal city of the Middle Ages has given way to a city full of history and art. For its ancient relics and heritage that has allowed in 2006 obtained the distinction of "City of Art and History." However, there remains no monuments of ancient Rome.

Narbona has 2 distinct parts: taking as reference the river, the left side is the oldest. The right side belongs to the Middle Ages. Via Domitia is right in the middle. This was coupled with the Via Aquitania. The current city has developed on the left side as this part was a little higher the bed of the river and was protected from floods, which covered the entire right side. In the seventeenth century the bishops monopolized all the power. The center of the ancient city was the Forum. Trade, led by bishops, acquired a great development, especially trade in wheat and, shortly thereafter, with the wine.

was discovered in 1838 "Horreum." It is a unique monument used in ancient times to store cereals and wine. Data from the time of Caesar Augustus, but retained only a portion of the extent of this huge "warehouse" of antiquity. His long galleries were buried underground for many years and did not come to light until the early twentieth century. Currently, you can visit, like all museums.

mention deserves the Lapidary Museum (Lapidaire). Located in the former Benedictine Church of Our Lady of Lamourguier, Southern Gothic style. This peculiar museum houses the largest collection of Roman tombstones France: about 1,300. Some belong to public monuments and funeral and all are part of old buildings. There are also walls, bas reliefs, capitals, fragments of cornices and parts of columns. All have been found in the basement of Narbonne and all are numbered and classified. Since 1980 he is trying to rebuild some of these ancient monuments. It is the most rich testimony of the glorious past of this city. Do not fail to contemplate the audiovisual offered by this museum. Is exceptional. It is an extraordinary journey, together with images and music, will take you to the heart of its assets depths.

Narbonne is a walking city to admire. Nothing is far away. Everything is accessible on foot. In the center of the Plaza del Ayuntamiento You can see part of the original pavement of the Via Domitia. It is surrounded by a sidewalk and is a source base. This Way was the first built outside Rome in 118 BC, to organize the conquered territories. At that time the network of Roman roads grew to 100,000 km and linking Italy to Spain.


The Cathedral, dedicated to Saints Justus and Pastor is the only Gothic cathedral in the Mediterranean and the third highest in France. His bow is nearly 40 m. high. In 1272 the first stone was laid and construction was interrupted in 1355 when the city was invaded by the Black Prince. Never was completed. Consists only of a choir and cloister. Originally had no windows. In antiquity it was believed that favored dark devotion and intimacy with God. Gradually opened windows to let in light. Currently, the windows are the most beautiful part of this beautiful cathedral.

The Archbishop's Palace, next to City Hall is a monument consisting of the Palazzo Vecchio (seventh century), the Torres de la Magdalena, San Marcial, New Palace (XIV century) and the Cathedral of Santos Justo Y Pastor. This impressive work, with samples of Carolingian architecture, Romanesque, Gothic and Renaissance offers an inner courtyard where you can access to the Archaeological Museum. If you are lucky enough to admire this court, do not hesitate to see the beautiful doors and windows that adorn the right side of it.

Look at the channels used to drain water from the rooftops. All are shaped like animals, but there is one that is shaped like a person. He was someone very influential "screwed" a lot when it reshaped the Palace. The Town Hall was built between 1846 and 1852 by Viollet-le-Duc.



El Canal de la Robine, built between 1667 and 1681, is the beginning of one of the most beautiful streets of Narbonne: La Rue du Pont des Marchands. This channel is a derivation of the Canal du Midi and reaches the Mediterranean through the city center. Passes under an arched Roman bridge which was part of the Milky Domitia. La Rue du Pont des Marchands is full of shops and is considered the commercial center of Narbonne. This street in the neighborhood of the canons. Walking through this place you can admire many historic buildings. Walking through this place has to admire the windows and doorways history. Will be "a walk through history."

Now we are in front of Les Halles. This beautiful pavilion, Baltard style, was inaugurated on 1 January 1901 to house the market at that time was installed in the Place de les Herbes (now Town Hall Square). Worked as a market for many years. Currently, rehabilitated, it becomes the soul of the city. Inside you can find everything. Even you can eat. In a somewhat different and fun.

Well, I do not extend more than my explanation: it is better that if you have a few days, cojáis the car and enjoy it your way. Sure you will like.



This trip I did to celebrate the 7 th Tourism Languedoc-Roussillon and I promise that I enjoyed every moment of my visit. I hope my notes will help you to use these days. Do not hesitate to get in:
http://www.audetourisme.com/
http://www.sunfrance.com/

These can help you address and resolve any questions you have. A big hug


Magda

Free Communcation Cards

IX: "BREAKING THE PIG"

"My father agreed to buy a doll of Bart Simpson. And that my mother if she wanted, but my father relented and said I'm a freak.

- Why are we going to have to buy, eh ? - my mother told -. Simply open your mouth and you and you become firm orders.

My father said I have no respect for money, if you do not learn to deeming same now that I'm small , when I do that? The children who buy dolls without Bart Simpson converted from older thugs who shoplift because they are accustomed to getting whatever they please on the easiest way. So instead of a Bart Simpson doll I bought an ugly ceramic pig with a slot in the back, and now I'm going to bring up being a good person, now I'm not going to turn into a villain.

What I have to do from now on, every morning is drink a cup of chocolate, but I hate it. Milk chocolate is a shekel, without milk, half a shekel, but if you catch me after I go directly to vomit, then do not give me anything. The coins go throwing the pig through the back, so if you shake it makes noise. When the pig has many coins that shaking can not hear anything, then I got a Bart Simpson doll skateboard. Because as my father, that's education.

The fact is that the pig is very cute, has the cold muzzle when you touch it and also put him smile at the shekel by the back, the same as when you only pour half a shekel, but it is best to also smiles when he is not check anything. Also I have searched a name, I've put Pesajson, as the man who took our mailbox before us, a mailbox where my father was unable to start the label. Pesajson not like my other toys, is much quieter, no lights or springs, and without batteries that liquid spilled his face. All you have to do keep an eye is not to jump off the table.

-! Pesajson, care, which are ceramic! - I say when I realize it has been bent a little and looks down, and then he smiles and waits patiently for me to turn it down. I love when he smiles and waits patiently for me to turn it down. I love when he smiles, it's just why I took the chocolate milk every morning, so that we can take the shekel by the back and see her smile does not change one iota.

Measuring the sow, Francisco Toledo. Photo: Johanna Lozoya

- I love you, Pesajson - say next - and to be honest I'll tell you I love you more than Mom and Dad. Also always love you no matter what happens, but steal shops. ! But if you get to jump off the table, poor you!

Yesterday my father came, grabbed Pesajson and began to shake wildly upside down.

- Careful, Dad - I said - to Pesajson will hurt the tummy, but my father continued as usual.

"No noise, you know what that means, Yoavi? Tomorrow you will have a skateboarding Bart Simpson.

-! Great, Dad! - I said -. A Bart Simpson skateboarding, cool. But let's shake it, because you feel sick.

Pesajson

Dad left in place and went to call my mother. He returned a minute with one hand dragging and holding a hammer with the other.

- See how I was right? - Told my mother - now know the value of things, is not it, Yoavi?

- Of course - I said - oh yes, but why a hammer?

- It's for you - said my father as he handed me - but be careful.

- Of course I'm going to have - I answered, because the truth is that it was, but after a few minutes my father I became impatient and blurted

-! Come, break the piggy once!

- What? - I exclaimed -. "Break on Pesajson?

- Yes, yes, to Pesajson - my father insisted -. Come on, come on, break it. You deserve that Bart Simpson, you've earned.

Pesajson gave me the sad smile of a ceramic pig who knows he has come to an end. To hell with the Bart Simpson, how could he give a hammer head to a friend?

- do not want a Bart Simpson - said, and returned the hammer to my father - I just Pesajson.

- Do not you understand - I said then my father, nothing happens, well is how you learn, see, I'm going to break me. He raised the hammer while I watched the desperate eyes of my mother and then Pesajson weary smile, and then I knew that everything depended on me that if he did something, Pesajson going to die.

- Dad - I said holding of the leg.

- What, Yoavi? - I responded with the hammer still high.

- I want a shekel more, please - I begged him - let him take another shekel, morning, after chocolate, and then we break, tomorrow, I promise.

- Another shekel? - My father smiled, leaving the hammer on Table -. You see, woman?, I managed to make the child aware.

- That, yes, conscience - I said - tomorrow .- And that tears and throat choked me.

When they had left the room embraced with great force and di Pesajson vent to my tears.

Pesajson said nothing, but very quietly shaking in my arms.

- Do not worry - I whispered in her ear, "I'm going to save.

At night I waited for my father to finish watching TV in the room and went to sleep. Then I got up quietly and slipped to Pesajson the gallery. We walked together a very long time in the dark, until we came to a field full of nettles.

- A love pigs fields - Pesajson told as he left on the floor, especially the fields of nettles . You'll be fine here.

I was expecting an answer, but Pesajson said nothing, and when I touched the nose as a gesture of farewell, he just nailed me with their melancholy eyes. I knew that never again see me. "

Etgar Keret, Missing Kissinger , translation Ana María Bejarano, Mexico, Sixth Floor, 2009. ISBN 978-607-7781-004

Mens Cruising Spots Portland Oregon

Hugo Hiriart, "which raises an issue, and JUDGEMENT THAT WAS GIVEN IN ALEXANDRIA"

"This story, as mentioned, is anonymous and was written in Florence in the late thirteenth century. I think your theme has much to do with imagination.

In Alexandria is in Romania (since there are 12 Alexandria), founded by Alexander in March, before he died, in the district where the Saracens and sell fried, on a Monday, a cook Mohammedan, whose name was Fabratto, was in his kitchen when he got a poor Saracens with bread in hand. I had no money to buy anything and put his bread on the pot to receive the smoke coming out of there. Full of delight bread bit by the smoke smoked delicacy that was cooking in the pot, and ate it all. This Fabratto had not sold enough in the morning, took hold of ill omen, and caught the poor Saracen disgust and said,

- Pay what you've made of mine.

Poor said

- I have not made your dish other than smoke.

- From what you caught, pay me - shouting Fabratto.

identity of the image, 1998. Manuel Felguérez

Such was the contention that, never have happened before a lawsuit of this nature, came to the Soldan. This, by the very novelty of the case, brought together scholars. Locked case. The wise Saracens began to quibble. One argued that the smoke was not the cook and argued that: the smoke can not retain odor becomes lacks substance and any property that is useful, and should not therefore be paid. Another said that the smoke is attached to the dish, it depends on and is generated from their properties, Cook sold its goods, if you take the smoke must therefore pay. There were many views. Finally imposed his wise advice saying:

- As the chef is to sell your goods and the other to buy, you, fair sir, have just paid their value. If when the chef sells a useful property of the dish, you are paid with money useful now that it has sold smoke, which is the useless part of the kitchen, please, sir, sound currency, and judges have the sound payment it comes out.

And the soldier who was sentenced observed.

Is not this remind you of the imagination? "

Hugo Hiriart, teeth were the piano. A study of art and imagination , Mexico, Tusquets, 1999. ISBN 968772383-1

Where To Get Novelty Id In Windsor

Walking slowly through the streets. VIII

"We came out, the wind was back behind us, we pezcaba the neck, kick us a tip. A major wave splashed us and I got the joy of running for a few steps. Don Gaetano was attached to the head wet beret. We were alone, ' or vient' had locked the city at home. I imagined deserted, with people who had fled, leaving the door open and the pots in the fire. I could go on all buildings , sit in the chair of the bishop and the mayor, live at the royal palace, up to the boat. Americans also had disappeared, leaving the empty carrier in the middle of the harbor. The idea tickled my nose. It lasted until I saw the wind come face to us. They ran in groups, with shirts, shorts and tennis shoes. We are very warm and they half-naked, citizens had disappeared, the Martians had landed. Don Gaetano and I looked at your feet to know if we were on the ground or by air. Run for us was a serious word.

One of us ran off to escape an earthquake, bombing. Running without being chased was like water without boiling pasta. We passed by concentrating on their movements, the wind blowing.

- No may be true, Don Gaetano, this is a hallucination due to hot coffee.

- Go if any. They are the last people invented the world, the last to arrive. They do the war and cars. Is an enlarged children's village. If you ask them where they are, they reply that far from home. There. For them, it is we exist. Cross with us, go ahead and do not see us. They live here and not even see the volcano. I have read in the newspaper that an American sailor has fallen into the mouth of Vesuvius. It is not unusual, I had not seen.

Leaving the seafront between the lanes reappeared our crowd, dense and clueless. Moved the old insecure, for support, the children opened their arms to be carried away by the wind blows. There was clothes hanging, withdrawal to keep her in the gusts. Without sheets hanging on the top looked mottled sky puffy clouds, aromatic and fried pies.

- Hungry? - I asked Don Gaetano, casting an eye upwards.

had heard my thoughts on the cloud.

- Guilt of them are fried by vocation.

was the day of convalescence of happiness. Don Gaetano and `o vient 'were charged with the task of digesting me on Sunday. They were getting. So I learned that happiness is to forget the next day. Anna was not thinking. The bruising of the body was sufficient to account for the heating step to happiness. "

Erri de Luca, The day before happiness, translated by Carlos Gumpert, Mexico, Sixth Floor, 2010. ISBN 978-607778104-2

...

"Happiness is a" gift. " Has a before and after, possible to identify if you pay attention to the multitude of signs which reveals its name. Decode arrival is a real art. Don Gaetano, janitor of a building in Naples in the fifties, has the gift to hear the thoughts of people. It was he who, through their stories about the horrors of war and the heroism of the Neapolitan people, start with this art to the narrator of the novel, a young orphan of eighteen.

Erri de Luca was born

in Naples in 1950. At eighteen he entered the ranks of Lotta Continua, leftist political movement which was a leader in the seventies. After performing various jobs - truck driver, laborer, construction worker - bent for writing, becoming one of the most important Italian artists today. The day before happiness is one of his most recent works. "

Editorial , Sixth Floor

Big Breasts Skinny Women

Walking slowly through the streets. Etgar Keret

Christo Mastaba project, 1966

" He fell asleep. When he opened his eyes and let it roll over the back, the sun was setting. The wind went through the grass with a rumor merciful. Tied and untied three pine branches with large fraternal gestures appeasers. Robinson felt his soul light ship flying into a heavy clouds crossing the sky with majestic slowness. A river flowed into it gently. It was then that he was sure a change in the weight of the atmosphere, perhaps, or in breathing things. He was on another island , which had seen once and never again had become a show later. He felt, as never before, which was lying on the island, as if on someone who had the body of the island in itself. It was a feeling that I had never experienced with that intensity, even when walking barefoot on pebbles yet! was so alive! The almost carnal of the island against him, warmed him, he was excited. She was naked, the land that surrounded him. He undressed in turn. With outstretched arms, stomach tight, with all his might embraced her body quake, burned all day by the sun and releasing a musky sweat in the cooler air of late. His face closed to digging in the grass roots and with his mouth blew a warm breath in the middle of humus. And the earth said to the face sent him a whiff of smelling overloaded that linked with the soul of plants adjudged and smell musty, sticky seeds of outbreaks in pregnancy. ! To what extent wisely mingled and confused life and death at the elementary level! Your sex pierced the ground as if the fence of a plow and there poured an immense pity for all created things. ! Strange sowing a solitary image of the great Pacific! Here lies, exhausted, he who married the earth and it seems - lazily attached tiny frog skin of the globe - turn sharply with her in the infinite space ... At last he rose again in the wind, a little dazed, and was greeted eagerly by the unanimous three pines that answered the cheers far down the rain forest which bordered the green and stormy horizon. "

Michel Tournier, Friday or the limbs Pacific Mexico, Alfaguara, End of the Century Collection, 1992. ISBN 9-789682-939662

...

"Today, on this island, a miracle happened: summer came on. I put the bed near the swimming pool and bathing was, until very late. It was impossible to sleep. Two or three minutes were enough to turn out in sweat water that should protect me from the awful calm. In the morning I woke up a phonograph. I could not return to the museum, to look for things. Hui by ravines. I'm in the basement of the south, including aquatic plants, outraged by mosquitoes, with the sea or dirty streams to the waist, seeing absurdly anticipated my flight. I think that these people came to look, perhaps I have seen. But I follow my destiny, I am deprived of all, confined to small place, less habitable island in the sea marshes deleted once a week.

Café VI © Johanna Lozoya 2010

writing this to let adverse testimony of the miracle. If you do not die within days drowned, or fighting for my freedom, I hope to write the Defense for survivors and praise of Malthus . Attack them in these pages, to the exhausting of forests and deserts, demonstrate that the world, with the improvement of police documents, journalism, radio-telephony, customs, does irreparable any miscarriage of justice, is a hell unanimous for the persecuted. So far I have written this page yesterday but did not provide. ! How about occupations in the desert island! ! What is the unsurpassed hardness of the wood! ! Much larger space shifting the bird!
An Italian, who sold carpets in Calcutta, I had the idea to come to me, said (in their language):
- For a fugitive, for you, there is only one place in the world, but do not live there. It is an island. White people was built in 1924 or so, a museum, a chapel, a swimming pool. The works are completed and abandoned.
I interrupted him, wanting his support for travel. The trader continued:
- not Chinese pirates or the ship painted white Rockefeller Institute touched. Is the focus of a disease, even mysterious, which kills from outside to inside. Caen nails, hair, skin die and whites of the eyes and the body lives eight, fifteen days. The crew of a ship that had docked on the island were skinned, bald, no nails - all dead - when he found the Japanese cruiser Namur a. The steamer was sunk by gunfire.
But my life was so horrible that I decided to leave ... The Italian tried to dissuade me, I was able to help me.
Last night, for the hundredth time, I slept on the island empty ... Seeing the buildings thought what it would cost to bring these stones, how easy it would have been up a brick kiln. I slept late and the music and screams woke me at dawn. The life of fugitive sleep lightened me: I'm sure that has not reached any boat, no plane, no blimp. However, from time to time, in this heavy night of summer, the grasslands of the hill are covered with people dancing, strolling and bathing in the pool, as holidaymakers installed from some time in the Teques or Marienbad. "


Adolfo Bioy Casares, The Invention of Morel , Buenos Aires, Emecé Publishers, 1953.

Bleeding Chicken Pox Dots

VII: "DROPS"

" My girlfriend says that someone U.S. has invented a pill that makes you not feel alone. I heard yesterday, in the capsule information Sixty seconds military station, and now you are sending an urgent letter to her sister to buy him a shipment and send it by mail. Sixty seconds in said on the East Coast is sold in all stores and in New York and has caused a furor. It comes in two forms: drops or spray. My girlfriend has asked drops, because you may not want to feel alone, but he does not want is to damage the ozone layer.

drops you throw in the ear and Twenty minutes you stop feeling alone. I do not act chemically on that area of \u200b\u200bthe brain, had explained over the radio, but my girlfriend had not understood. It is not that precisely is Madame Curie, my girlfriend and I would even say it's a bit silly. He spends his days sitting thinking that I will be unfaithful, I'm going to leave and stuff. But I love her, love her madly. When you return to the post office tells me now you can stop living with me. Because the drops, Taran-Taran, will arrive soon and will no longer be scary to be alone.

- Let me? - I say -. Why drops? How is that possible?

But if you love her, love her madly.

- Go, if you like - say - but I want you to know that neither those nasty ear drops or any other you will want to as I have loved you.

What is true is that the drops the ears are not going to be unfaithful. That's what she says, then leaves. As if I did I would be unfaithful.

has now hired a Florentin attic in every day waiting for the mailman. For my part, I have no connection with the mail, does not excite me, and I have no friends abroad to send me things. if present, would have long since gone to visit them. Would come to have a drink with them and have told my sorrows. The hug a lot and not be ashamed to mourn me in front of them and all that stuff. We could be together years and spend a lifetime. In the most natural, as has always been done, much better than a few drops. "

Etgar Keret," Drops "in r Missing Kissinger, Mexico, Sixth Floor, 2009. ISBN978-607-7781-00-4

...

"Born in Tel Aviv in 1976, Etgar Keret is today the most popular writer among Israeli youth. Keret began writing in 1992 and since then he has published four books of short stories, a novel, three books comic and a children's book. His books have been best-sellers in Israel and have received international acclaim. (...) More than forty short films have been based on their stories. His stories have been adapted to the theater in Israel .

Since its arrival on the international literary scene, Etgar Keret has captivated readers all gender and age with its particular literary style. In stories of a few pages, Keret plasma extreme situations of daily life, which when viewed through the lens carefully, reveals not have anything everyday. His writing reflects the volatile, violent and uncertain reality of the Middle East, but not from the ethical or moral grandeur, but by fleeting glimpses of situations and characters involved in a chaos that transcends, in an attempt to keep head above water, finding value and meaning in the surrounding nonsense. "

Editorial Sixth Floor

Sceletium Tortuosum Tec

The incorruptible ...

December 1937. A child waits for thaw frozen (Gettyimages)

"In his famous essay on The experience of reading and CS Lewis insisted that good books, which provide an extension of our consciousness, differ from the others in that "offer a good reading" and need readers and critics like. "The value of literature is checked when you good readers." Being a good reader need not be pedantic, learned, scholar, or anything . Reading well requires attention acuity and time. And that is what polite habit now, with the proliferation of publications and easy entertainment, it seems very threatened. This is the central issue of the last chapter of Manguel: the marketing literature, which is trivial and banal to the consumption of a mass society and the media. "The bookstore chains sell the space on your windows and tables to the highest bidder, so that what the audience sees is what the publisher pays for display. As a result, piles of books advertised as dealing best sellers most of the physical space of the library and all of them, such as sausages, have an expiration date implied which guarantees a constant production. "Novels surface flooding the market, are widely well-paid advertising, and easy as pie and intrigue language satisfy the craving exciting offer readers an audience thick, broad, quick and unanimous. The advertising is misleading; criticism often neglected. It is not easy, in my opinion, defining what is good literature , we have to resort to the trial of the rare good readers. There are still, even among subway passengers. Like good stories, friendly voices warning, we go against the fashions are still there, uncorrupted. "


fragment article by Carlos García Gual, Utility fiction. The true reading is still an intellectual challenge, an art and a sentimental education in The Country , Saturday October 30, 2010.

Inexpensive Romantic Getaways In The Indiana

Walking slowly through the streets. VI

"When asked how was Greece, spoke of a long line of nursing homes erected on the shores of a poisoned sea whose waters reached to the acute narrow pebble beaches in slow waves as oil.
When we asked how it was France, recalled a short hallway between two public offices where mangy guards searched a woman who smiled embarrassed, while the patio wire up a splash in the water.
When asked how was Rome, he found a fresh scar in the groin that claimed to be from a wound received while trying to break the windows of an abandoned tramway on the outskirts and in which some women embalmed their dead.
When asked if he had seen the desert, explained in detail the erotic mores and timing of migration of insects that nest in the porosity of marble eaten by the salt of the ports and spent by the handling of the merchants of the coast.
When asked how was Belgium, established the relationship between the weakening of desire to a naked woman, lying on his back, smiles awkwardly and intermittent and progressive oxidation of certain firearms.

Portrait of George Dyer in a Mirror, 1968, Francis Bacon

When asked about a port of the Strait, the eye was dissected from a bird of prey within the shadows that danced singing.
Asked how far he had gone, replied that a freighter had left Valparaiso to take care of a blind woman who sang in the streets and claimed to have been dazzled by the light of the Annunciation. "

Alvaro Mutis, The death of Captain Cook ( jobs lost), Summa Maqroll the Gaviero , Poetry, 1948-1997, Introduction and editing Carmen Ruiz Barrionuevo, Salamanca, Ediciones Universidad de Salamanca, National Heritage, Library of America, no. 12, 1999. ISBN84-7481-882-6

...

"At times, six in the evening when Kronz walk back to the hotel from the area where the hospital was, carefully crossing the Plaza Catalunya, thus avoiding the crowd of people swirling next to the underground and that at that time left in disarray from El Corte Ingles. beginning to feel uncomfortable among the noise. So I turned up the collar coat and entered the Zurich. She could not believe that the rather small space could meet so many people to talk all at the same time.
After taking a seat by the window, the doctor assumed that the environment would have been unbearable if not for the quality of chocolate, which was excellent. He leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs under the table while he unbuttoned his coat. Is the sound of voices, which increased as customers were arriving, how did the waiters shouting orders from one end to another of the premises, confirmed his initial suspicion, perhaps a little reckless. Although it was not yet familiar with the city, recalled the comment chance to do one of the colleagues at the hospital. In Spain, you must be heard to shout, otherwise nobody will take into account. He tried not to think of Prague, but inevitable and wondered if there would ever return. And then I realized that this could be awful: not only had left Prague without a purpose, but was beginning to experience the weight of betrayal. It said it would always be a stranger wherever he went. Do they have always the feeling of being on the wrong side of the river? To his right was headed, burly mustache and bodies colliding with each other to go settling. At last he had a bartender fat, solemn voice, it out of their grim thoughts. And he asked, his arm raised, if you wanted something else. He ordered another chocolate, pointing to the cup with a vague gesture. He paid with a ticket that was taken from the bottom of the pocket and, when finished, went to the door.
He was happy when he was in the street. I began to like the chaos of the city. Was intended to go to the hotel, although the idea of \u200b\u200bwalking him was curiously exciting and refreshing. Noticed the foul odor that came from the doorways. The proximity of the seafood, I recalled a dream. A dream of crabs in cahoots on a woman with breasts covered with bruises. Then walked down the Ramblas walking slowly toward Columbus, noting the activity of vendors on both sides of the street. Passed by the newsstand and was absorbed compared to the cages of monkeys, parrots and cockatoos ruffled feathers and marred by the cold, sharp cries which still retained the nostalgia of the jungle. Like the previous day at the same time, had begun to fall drizzle a little sticky. He walked: the salt air had burned his face as if it came directly from the port. "

Javier

Coffee House, Harry Mayerovitch, 1980-8

Vasconez, Travellers Prague, Mexico, Alfaguara, 1996. ISBN 9-789681-902537