Traficante de Sueños 
Friday, April 15, 2011
What To Fo With A Swollen Rook Piercing
Poppies - Roselles. September
Photos: James Cox. Thought for
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Grey Goose Wholsalers
tulipes Grogues (2099 caracters)
The day was spectacular, sunny, with a refreshing breeze.
could be any day, but it was the prologue of the spring.
The last day of winter and therefore adjacent to the first day of the flowering season.
Square, incomparably beautiful characterized the village, making it unique.
Joan and Tomeu, sitting on a bench, recall old stories.
Xim, carrying a beautiful bouquet of yellow tulips, and slowly crossed the square parsimoniosament, it seemed that you're in another world.
Despite their everyday conversations this morning did not fix them. That day never did.
millimetric accuracy Following his usual way, he went to the outskirts of town.
A few kilometers towards the west, was the brief flirtatious and cemetery of St. Agnes.
Xim entered it, decisively, the sacred site.
atalaiava some tears down his cheeks.
be felt deeply grieved.
He sought, unsuccessfully, the tomb of Anna, his partner.
Tired, with a smile on his face, left the small enclosure.
When you leave the cemetery there wore flowers in their hands, the same bunch of tulips, a deep yellow.
The slow rate of return became the hurried pace lap. Despite rising
coast that led to the unique place, this time when she noticed the presence of Joan and Tomeu.
He sat a few minutes with them.
When asked by both the time for this sublime branch, after a slight hesitation, he replied.
A dream my friends, it all started with a nightmare.
That night a few years ago, made me believe in my sudden separation of Anna.
A tragic breakup, only existing in the dream world. On a day like today celebrate this anniversary with a bouquet of seven yellow tulips for my beloved.
But first I go to the cemetery to bear in mind that I can still enjoy the joy of loving and time still remains for us to share.
A nightmare spring I become one of the many tributes to the love of my life, Anna.
Year after year, that ritual is reproduced like the first time.
Designed and written by James Cox.
(3rd story that has been in the competition program of short stories "We speak" IB3)
The day was spectacular, sunny, with a refreshing breeze.
could be any day, but it was the prologue of the spring.
The last day of winter and therefore adjacent to the first day of the flowering season.
Square, incomparably beautiful characterized the village, making it unique.
Joan and Tomeu, sitting on a bench, recall old stories.
Xim, carrying a beautiful bouquet of yellow tulips, and slowly crossed the square parsimoniosament, it seemed that you're in another world.
Despite their everyday conversations this morning did not fix them. That day never did.
millimetric accuracy Following his usual way, he went to the outskirts of town.
A few kilometers towards the west, was the brief flirtatious and cemetery of St. Agnes.
Xim entered it, decisively, the sacred site.
atalaiava some tears down his cheeks.
be felt deeply grieved.
He sought, unsuccessfully, the tomb of Anna, his partner.
Tired, with a smile on his face, left the small enclosure.
When you leave the cemetery there wore flowers in their hands, the same bunch of tulips, a deep yellow.
The slow rate of return became the hurried pace lap. Despite rising
coast that led to the unique place, this time when she noticed the presence of Joan and Tomeu.
He sat a few minutes with them.
When asked by both the time for this sublime branch, after a slight hesitation, he replied.
A dream my friends, it all started with a nightmare.
That night a few years ago, made me believe in my sudden separation of Anna.
A tragic breakup, only existing in the dream world. On a day like today celebrate this anniversary with a bouquet of seven yellow tulips for my beloved.
But first I go to the cemetery to bear in mind that I can still enjoy the joy of loving and time still remains for us to share.
A nightmare spring I become one of the many tributes to the love of my life, Anna.
Year after year, that ritual is reproduced like the first time.
Designed and written by James Cox.
(3rd story that has been in the competition program of short stories "We speak" IB3)
Thought by Traficante de Sueños 
Sunday, April 10, 2011
How Much Time Does Omeprazole Last In The System
"I chose the risk, the best way to learn to live"
I have 51 years.
Married with four children.
was born in Nimes and waterfront living in Britain.
The most dangerous mammal on the planet is man, and if you have power, as is the case of politicians, much more.
domestic Five years in the Jesuits taught me not to trust any god.
l E most powerful memory from my childhood is that of a hand as big as this, landing on my face, followed by a kick in the ass.
¿...?
My father was stern, but very good. Then you were a thug. A little. My father was the commander of the world's largest oil tankers in the Shell. When he was 13, with friends, I made a more serious mischief than usual and the police stopped me.
Huy.
My father came and went in the Gulf, always traveling. When stopped in northern France, my mother took me to see him. We arrived at night, in a very very small little boat, we went on that huge ship ...
And there was the commander.
"Sleep here and tomorrow we speak." I fell asleep at dawn, just minutes before medespertara the sound of the curtain to draw back, zasss!, And a sting on the cheek. He wanted his son to take the right path, do not hold grudges. He died over 25 years.
has ended following their footsteps.
My dream for 25 years is going around the world with my family. It's a dream and is well that it is, because the best trip is still not done.
not yet know if the navigation system will you or you chose to navigation.
chose the risk, the best way to learn to live. At 18 I decided to cross the Atlantic alone, when there was no recreational boating as a profession. My father told me: "You have two options: either a race or you study long to navigate, but if you choose the latter I will not give you anything to eat."
Caray with the commander!
The year was 1979, I crossed the Atlantic with a six-meter boat and without satellites. I knew I wanted to spend my life sailing.
that dream has more than fulfilled.
The most important thing I discovered over the years is that to be an elite rider need to know about many things besides sailing: to manage sponsors, press, sewing, candles, cooking ...
Better alone or in company? Only
is much more stressful, especially in multihull, one of my specialties, it is easy to dump: hence my gray hair.
What is the motivation?
Having a good home and people you want to go as fast as possible to the ground. But once on the ground my head is always busy with the next project.
¿Qué se aprende de uno mismo?
Que eres muy pequeño, lo cual para mí es una obviedad porque soy muy bajito. Y que la mejor forma para gestionar un problema no son los músculos sino el cerebro, lo cual, de nuevo, fue una buena noticia. Otro valor esencial es el respeto. Debes respetar tu barco, a ti mismo, los tiempos, y a la tripulación si la llevas.
...
Si los políticos se tuvieran más respeto entre ellos, las cosas funcionarían mejor. Y si cada vez que nos dirigimos a alguien o hacemos algo tuviéramos presente esa palabra, el mundo cambiaría. Y hay que aprender a perder. Pero si he de stress is something that certainly is not the right way.
What do you mean?
Nothing is what it seems. Someone you do not like it then, and you see far into the sea, which at a critical moment has responded wonderfully. The wind is always changing.
understand.
And I've learned to accept things as they are, I avoid if I had or would, if that would have done so would have been better. I refuse to discuss with the crew what had already happened.
"In a race like the World Race is technically or has any insight?
Fortunately, intuition has a role. The computer tells you how to play your best as the weather forecast, but you smell the sea, look at the sky, the barometer, and feel what's going to happen, such as farmers, and hopefully do well.
Worst thing that ever happened in the sea?
I've broken many boats, but only once had to call for help. It is very sad to see how your boat is sinking, you've designed, built, like a child.
And the best?
The sea plane, the moon, and I breathe with my boat. To me that is of immense value. And at 18, get to Antigua.
Tell me.
had no money, my father had driven away. I left England, I miss Tenerife and crashed against the rocks of Lanzarote. Fortunately, I saved the ship and when I first saw the coconut and drank a pina colada I began to mourn.
How convinced his wife to marry an absentee?
jobs require you to be away from home will help keep the passion.
What is worthwhile in life? Living
is already an exception, and life is so short that even the bad is worth it. If there is a second chance, I'd be an albatross.
¿...?
fly between sky and sea, flutter ever leverage the power of the sea, surf the waves without touching them. Sometimes they stop on an island, make love, have a baby and return to fly, but when choosing a partner, never give up.
Considered the best 'skipper' French with the best record, has completed two rounds almundo and 42 crossings of the Atlantic (7 wins), 18 of them solo. Aboard the 'Virbac-Paprec', and along Jean-Pierre Dick, won the Barcelona Word Race. Just landed after three months of extreme sailing, racing comes to the interview, smiling and barefoot. I knew him very good things, as it was to receive and embrace the latter, the English Iker Martinez and Xabi Fernandez, and never misses a chance to joke. I could see his good character, interview after interview and not a gesture of fatigue. Now his only desire is to return home. And in 2013, the Copa America.
www.lavanguardia.es
Loïck Peyron, setstats , along with Jean-Pierre Dick, the 'Barcelona World Race
I have 51 years.
Married with four children.
was born in Nimes and waterfront living in Britain.
The most dangerous mammal on the planet is man, and if you have power, as is the case of politicians, much more.
domestic Five years in the Jesuits taught me not to trust any god.
l E most powerful memory from my childhood is that of a hand as big as this, landing on my face, followed by a kick in the ass.
¿...?
My father was stern, but very good. Then you were a thug. A little. My father was the commander of the world's largest oil tankers in the Shell. When he was 13, with friends, I made a more serious mischief than usual and the police stopped me.
Huy.
My father came and went in the Gulf, always traveling. When stopped in northern France, my mother took me to see him. We arrived at night, in a very very small little boat, we went on that huge ship ...
And there was the commander.
"Sleep here and tomorrow we speak." I fell asleep at dawn, just minutes before medespertara the sound of the curtain to draw back, zasss!, And a sting on the cheek. He wanted his son to take the right path, do not hold grudges. He died over 25 years.
has ended following their footsteps.
My dream for 25 years is going around the world with my family. It's a dream and is well that it is, because the best trip is still not done.
not yet know if the navigation system will you or you chose to navigation.
chose the risk, the best way to learn to live. At 18 I decided to cross the Atlantic alone, when there was no recreational boating as a profession. My father told me: "You have two options: either a race or you study long to navigate, but if you choose the latter I will not give you anything to eat."
Caray with the commander!
The year was 1979, I crossed the Atlantic with a six-meter boat and without satellites. I knew I wanted to spend my life sailing.
that dream has more than fulfilled.
The most important thing I discovered over the years is that to be an elite rider need to know about many things besides sailing: to manage sponsors, press, sewing, candles, cooking ...
Better alone or in company? Only
is much more stressful, especially in multihull, one of my specialties, it is easy to dump: hence my gray hair.
What is the motivation?
Having a good home and people you want to go as fast as possible to the ground. But once on the ground my head is always busy with the next project.
¿Qué se aprende de uno mismo?
Que eres muy pequeño, lo cual para mí es una obviedad porque soy muy bajito. Y que la mejor forma para gestionar un problema no son los músculos sino el cerebro, lo cual, de nuevo, fue una buena noticia. Otro valor esencial es el respeto. Debes respetar tu barco, a ti mismo, los tiempos, y a la tripulación si la llevas.
...
Si los políticos se tuvieran más respeto entre ellos, las cosas funcionarían mejor. Y si cada vez que nos dirigimos a alguien o hacemos algo tuviéramos presente esa palabra, el mundo cambiaría. Y hay que aprender a perder. Pero si he de stress is something that certainly is not the right way.
What do you mean?
Nothing is what it seems. Someone you do not like it then, and you see far into the sea, which at a critical moment has responded wonderfully. The wind is always changing.
understand.
And I've learned to accept things as they are, I avoid if I had or would, if that would have done so would have been better. I refuse to discuss with the crew what had already happened.
"In a race like the World Race is technically or has any insight?
Fortunately, intuition has a role. The computer tells you how to play your best as the weather forecast, but you smell the sea, look at the sky, the barometer, and feel what's going to happen, such as farmers, and hopefully do well.
Worst thing that ever happened in the sea?
I've broken many boats, but only once had to call for help. It is very sad to see how your boat is sinking, you've designed, built, like a child.
And the best?
The sea plane, the moon, and I breathe with my boat. To me that is of immense value. And at 18, get to Antigua.
Tell me.
had no money, my father had driven away. I left England, I miss Tenerife and crashed against the rocks of Lanzarote. Fortunately, I saved the ship and when I first saw the coconut and drank a pina colada I began to mourn.
How convinced his wife to marry an absentee?
jobs require you to be away from home will help keep the passion.
What is worthwhile in life? Living
is already an exception, and life is so short that even the bad is worth it. If there is a second chance, I'd be an albatross.
¿...?
fly between sky and sea, flutter ever leverage the power of the sea, surf the waves without touching them. Sometimes they stop on an island, make love, have a baby and return to fly, but when choosing a partner, never give up.
Running barefoot and
www.lavanguardia.es
Designed by dealer Dream 
Lads Who Like To Show Their Cocks Off
Those who do not get in the picture.
are also them. And they would say some stupid minister. Those who were not looking for new battlefields for their companies. The poor and infantry battered but not faithful to itself, and that only she can. The mercenaries in search of a master to give them to eat, whoever, whatever secure two thousand euros per month and a future in the short to medium term. Those who do not go with heroic gestures but the small door, quietly, leaving behind parents and boyfriends that they miss. For a long time away from loved ones, which, very occasionally, visiting increasingly holidays short, knowing they can not be with them when they go to the hospital or die, and that if someone gives early warnings, there might not accompany his funeral. But it can also happen that there luck, and parents, or the dog that accompanied his life for ten or twelve years, expect to die when they are home on vacation.
called Mary, Naomi, Hector, Manolo. have about forty years old, left Spain for three or four, not out in Sunday's newspapers, on those pathetic stories devoted to convince us that we should feel proud that the world is dotted with English youth is looking for life outside. At his age are not so photogenic. They do not look posing with a lab coat in Oslo, chef's hat in Berlin, basketball jersey in New York. Not even apply for EPS photo XLSemanal or handsome waiter who washes dishes in his twenties, only time, in a trendy London or New York, among other things because neither are twentysomethings and handsome, and when wash dishes or waiting tables at his age, it can be for life. Are people up without a second chance, who knows what will remain, without remission. No other desire not get worse. Do not go lower.
walk out there, thousands. His generation did not even is the airports, the laptop and cheap hotel on the lookout for even modest market. His is the single ticket from unaffordable mortgages. The generation deceived by the mirage and the irresponsibility of those who could make a cultured country, hardworking, decent, and they did. Of those, backed at the polls by hopes and dreams for the future, were required to harness this and did not know or give a shit, and now are still there, unmoved, claiming the salary of the game, lashing the favors done to compadres. Without anyone to tell them was your fault, you bastard. Without anyone to cross it when leaving the fancy restaurant or giving conferences, with that face of pigs that have put the years, the pasta, the status and the car driver who never lost them over the face.
Their victims are gone, that's all. Quietly, as I say. were forty in school class and two hundred in the hall of the faculty, and everything to get a university degree that nobody cares a damn. Nobody told them not to take out. They were sentenced to the dole queue and asked a thousand times, when they were women, were pregnant or had children, grotesque mock job interviews. For their age they would have received head down, accept a thousand euros a month, closing the mouth, put your ass-or-hell and bleed with the mortgage on the flat and the letters of the car, as all Christ. Swallowing and survive eleven months dreaming of the twelfth of cheap holidays to Cancun. It was that or have the courage, despair, to organize with peers to burn this fucking Spain. To achieve at least the guilty should pay to be afraid or expensive. But that is easier to write than do, so I opted for the reasoning: get out of here. Away, shaking dust from the shoes of this place ungrateful, jealous and miserable, historically ill. In this vile stepmother and his shady, shameless thugs unpunished. Therefore they are out, and if they can not return avoided. Made it more difficult, it was jumping into the void, throw the knapsack on his shoulder, deep into hostile territory, unknown. We searched for life as best they could, and they survive, they eat hot as they can remake their shattered lives. Do not even pretend to reconcile with this sad and Spain that began to kick. If you are going to die away, as alone as they live, they can spoil this bad bitch.
Arturo Perez-Reverte
Photo: Jaume Timoner
are also them. And they would say some stupid minister. Those who were not looking for new battlefields for their companies. The poor and infantry battered but not faithful to itself, and that only she can. The mercenaries in search of a master to give them to eat, whoever, whatever secure two thousand euros per month and a future in the short to medium term. Those who do not go with heroic gestures but the small door, quietly, leaving behind parents and boyfriends that they miss. For a long time away from loved ones, which, very occasionally, visiting increasingly holidays short, knowing they can not be with them when they go to the hospital or die, and that if someone gives early warnings, there might not accompany his funeral. But it can also happen that there luck, and parents, or the dog that accompanied his life for ten or twelve years, expect to die when they are home on vacation.
called Mary, Naomi, Hector, Manolo. have about forty years old, left Spain for three or four, not out in Sunday's newspapers, on those pathetic stories devoted to convince us that we should feel proud that the world is dotted with English youth is looking for life outside. At his age are not so photogenic. They do not look posing with a lab coat in Oslo, chef's hat in Berlin, basketball jersey in New York. Not even apply for EPS photo XLSemanal or handsome waiter who washes dishes in his twenties, only time, in a trendy London or New York, among other things because neither are twentysomethings and handsome, and when wash dishes or waiting tables at his age, it can be for life. Are people up without a second chance, who knows what will remain, without remission. No other desire not get worse. Do not go lower.
walk out there, thousands. His generation did not even is the airports, the laptop and cheap hotel on the lookout for even modest market. His is the single ticket from unaffordable mortgages. The generation deceived by the mirage and the irresponsibility of those who could make a cultured country, hardworking, decent, and they did. Of those, backed at the polls by hopes and dreams for the future, were required to harness this and did not know or give a shit, and now are still there, unmoved, claiming the salary of the game, lashing the favors done to compadres. Without anyone to tell them was your fault, you bastard. Without anyone to cross it when leaving the fancy restaurant or giving conferences, with that face of pigs that have put the years, the pasta, the status and the car driver who never lost them over the face.
Their victims are gone, that's all. Quietly, as I say. were forty in school class and two hundred in the hall of the faculty, and everything to get a university degree that nobody cares a damn. Nobody told them not to take out. They were sentenced to the dole queue and asked a thousand times, when they were women, were pregnant or had children, grotesque mock job interviews. For their age they would have received head down, accept a thousand euros a month, closing the mouth, put your ass-or-hell and bleed with the mortgage on the flat and the letters of the car, as all Christ. Swallowing and survive eleven months dreaming of the twelfth of cheap holidays to Cancun. It was that or have the courage, despair, to organize with peers to burn this fucking Spain. To achieve at least the guilty should pay to be afraid or expensive. But that is easier to write than do, so I opted for the reasoning: get out of here. Away, shaking dust from the shoes of this place ungrateful, jealous and miserable, historically ill. In this vile stepmother and his shady, shameless thugs unpunished. Therefore they are out, and if they can not return avoided. Made it more difficult, it was jumping into the void, throw the knapsack on his shoulder, deep into hostile territory, unknown. We searched for life as best they could, and they survive, they eat hot as they can remake their shattered lives. Do not even pretend to reconcile with this sad and Spain that began to kick. If you are going to die away, as alone as they live, they can spoil this bad bitch.
Arturo Perez-Reverte
Photo: Jaume Timoner
Dreams Designed by Dealer 
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Tech Deck Online Skate Park
Photos. This landmark paper
Photo: Jaume Timoner. Dealer
Dreams Designed by 
Product Identification Flight Simulator
It turns out that I go to the library of Antonio Mendez, Mayor street, and say hey, buddy, you got the new Bible just removed the Episcopal Conference? And Antonio, who is a friend for twenty years, I look askance and say I see crappy, teacher, a Bible in your years. What you, Thomas. Have you seen the light, or what? And I answer that less choteo, kid, or bought at the Corte Ingles. Large areas, said today. And I want two a gift. Well I have to ask because I have not, leads Antonio. And I say: you should be ashamed. A bookcase with no new Bible in the window. I know you're not going to church and neither am I, and Monsignor Rouco and mariachis will fall, like me, like a kick in the duodenum. But we're not talking about opium of the people, or grandchildren of Trento tocapelotas, or historical and social havoc, but of culture, kid, that to be bookseller did you find out. One of the flow of wisdom that made us who we are, cóscate, Old and New Testaments, judeocristana culture, combined with Islam Mediterranean, Greece, Rome and all the paraphernalia, did what we call Western Europe and rebound: same site that also sounds like you, Antoñete, although that old Europe, in times of moral reference world, where human rights and the crucible of culture, we no longer recognize or the mother who bore her. Bookseller said in language, so to speak, I speak the greatest bestseller of history necessary to anyone trying to keep abreast of what is and what it does. To have it so handy as Cervantes, Shakespeare and Montaigne: four legs of the table where some support when we are tired elbows. I do not know if I explain.
After the banter between Antonio and I, a week after I have finally this new Bible at home, and, apart from the minor inconvenience to curse in Aramaic the rough touch of cloth binding under the web-wardens in the books always gave me teeth on edge, "I enjoy your pages of paper subtle and pleasant to touch, clean typography and the comforting weight of the volume in your hands. It is a beautiful specimen with the new translation canon of sacred texts into Castilian, which will be used in all the liturgical and catechetical, or whatever, the Catholic Church here. The canon, so to speak, the Bible official language of Cervantes. This makes it extremely important book, because, apart from close reading to do each one, the text, read at Mass and used from now on activities related to the subject, direct influence on the language they speak and write several million English-speaking Catholics. Is said quickly.
But that, the practitioner of the rock is only a part. At the end of out, the Bible is also and above all, a great wealth of fun, reflection and knowledge. A monument is essential to understand what was woven scrim what some reactionary and grumpy bastards like signing up call yet, with a mixture of melancholy and skeptical banter, Western culture that is non-or mind, what the heck " offend. In this context, the Bible is an extraordinary source stories, adventures, battles, betrayals, love, emotions and symbolism; matter than three thousand years ago the civilized world is nourished and inspired the greatest philosophers and artists of all ages, literature, music, painting and film included. Anyone seeking insight and intelligence that wants to interpret the world where you live and die, you can skip reading at least once in their life, the most famous and influential book, for good and bad, of all time . The Old and New Testaments, to a sacred history and divine revelation, and for other master key to culture and enlightenment, are essential to understand how we got here, we were and what we are. I pity those who do not have a Quixote and a Bible at home, if only to decorate furniture and reading four lines from time to time. And who does it reader to calculate. Only the Bible, reread again and again, enough to fill a lifetime. And eye. I insist that it is not religion, but of culture. The truth, not the pap skimmed educational allegedly imposed by those who legislate from the catheter mediocrity. Prejudices oppose the Bible is like putting forth a cathedral: no need to believe in God to visit and admire their beauty. To experience the majesty of the memory they cherish their old stones.
Arturo Perez-Reverte
Dreams Designed by Dealer 
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)