When I Do Sit Ups, I Get Cramps

HAPPY 2011!

never trust him ...

Olórin where you are!

2, q 1

best At parties, always do good

Well, for girls there ...

Modern Warfare 2 Traduction For English

TALE OF VAN GOGH

I know it's hard to read much text on a computer screen. And one most often has no desire or time. But a story Cortázar, and always worth the effort ..

Andrée, I did not come to me to live in his apartment on Suipacha. Not so much for the bunnies, but because it hurts me to join a closed order, and built up the thinner air mesh, such as in your home preserves the music of the lavender, the flutter of a swan with dust, the game violin and viola in the quartet of Rara. I am bitter enter an area where someone who lives beautifully has arranged everything visible as a reiteration of his soul, here the books (back in English, one in French and English), green cushions there, at this very site of the table the glass ashtray that looks like the cut of a soap bubble, and always a perfume, a sound, growing plants, a photo of dead friend, a ritual of tea trays and tongs for sugar ...

Ah, dear Andrée, how hard to oppose, even accepting it with entire submission of the self, the minute order establishing a woman in her home light. How culpable take a metal cup and put the other end of the table, put there just because you brought your English dictionaries and is on this side, to reach where they will area. Move the cup is worth a horrible red amid unexpected modulation Ozenfant, as if suddenly the bass strings all broke down at the same time with the same terrible whipping in the quietest moment of a Mozart symphony. Move the cup game alters the relationships of the whole house, every object with another, each time 12 of its soul with the heart and soul of the house and its inhabitants away. And I can not bring the fingers to a book, just belting the cone of light from a lamp, open the music box, without a sense of outrage and defiance eyes go through me like a flock of sparrows.

You know why I came to his home to his quiet room requested noon. It all seems so natural, as long as no one knows the truth. You have gone to Paris, I stayed with the department of Suipacha street, we developed a simple and satisfactory plan of mutual co-existence until September to bring it back to Buenos Aires and I set myself to some other house where perhaps .. . But that's why I write this letter was sent because of the bunnies, I think just would learn, and because I like writing letters, and perhaps because it rains. I moved last Thursday, at five in the afternoon between fog and boredom. I have closed many bags in my life, I've spent many hours making luggage that led nowhere, which on Thursday was a day full of shadows and straps because when I see the straps of the bags is as if he saw shadows, elements of a whip that strikes me indirectly, in the most subtle and horrible. But I packed my bags, I told the maid to come to settle, and got on the elevator. Right in between the first and second floor felt was going to throw a bunny. Never had explained before, does not believe that for disloyalty, but of course one will not get to tell people that occasionally throws a bunny. As always happened to me being alone, kept the fact as many records are kept of what happens (or does one happen) in total privacy. Do not blame me, Andrée, I do not reproach. From time to time I can think of throwing a bunny.

's no reason not to live in any house, it is not a reason to be ashamed and be isolated and keeping quiet ride. When I feel I'll throw up a bunny I put two fingers in her mouth open like a clamp, and I hope to feel in your throat warm fuzz that fizz up like a fruit salt. Everything is fast and hygienic, takes place in a split second. Saco fingers in the mouth, and they bring the subject by the ears of a white bunny. The bunny seems happy bunny is a normal and perfect, albeit a small, small as a guinea but white chocolate and entirely a bunny. I put it in the palm of his hand, he raised his lint with a touch of the fingers, the bunny seems pleased to have been born and bustles and paste the muzzle against my skin, moving with that crushing silent and tingling of the mouth of a rabbit against the skin of one hand. Looking to eat and then I (I speak of when this happened in my house in the suburbs) it out with me to the balcony and put it in the big pot where clover grows the way I have sown. The bunny ears up at all, involves a sweet clover with a fast reel of the muzzle, and I know I can leave and go, go for a while a life not unlike that of many who buy their rabbits on farms.

Between the first and second floors, Andrée, as a notice what would my life at home, I knew I was going to throw a bunny. Then I was afraid (or was it strange? No, afraid of the same strangeness, perhaps) because before I left my house, just two days before, there were 14 vomited a bunny and I was sure for a month, for five weeks, perhaps six with a little luck. Look, I was perfectly solved the problem of bunnies. Clover planted on the balcony of my other house, vomited a bunny, put him in clover, and after a month, he suspected that at any moment ... then gave the rabbit and grown to Mrs. Molina, who believed in a hobby and was silent. On another pot had been growing sweet clover and supportive, I am awaiting without concern that the tickle of a fluff up my throat closed, and the new bunny repeated since that time the life and customs of the former. The customs, Andrée, are specific forms of rhythm, rhythm is the fee that helps us live. It was not so terrible once you vomit bunnies had entered the period unchanged, in the method. You want to know why all that work, why all the clover and Mrs. Molina. It would be advisable to kill the bunny then y. .. Ah, would you throw only one, take two fingers and put it in the open hand, yet acceded to you by the act itself, by ineffable aura of their proximity just broken. A month away from both, one month's size, long hair, jumps, eyes wild, Andrée absolute difference, a month is a rabbit, really makes a rabbit, but the opening minute, when the cod end conceals a warm and bustling inalienable presence ...

Like a poem in the opening minutes, the fruit of a night of Idumea, so one of yourself ... and then as not one, so isolated and distant in his letter-size plain white world. I decided, however, just kill the bunny was born. I live four months at home: four, perhaps, with luck, three-tablespoons of alcohol on the nose. (Do you know that mercy can kill instantly a bunny giving a spoonful of alcohol drinking? Their meat tastes better then, they say, but I ... Three or four tablespoons of alcohol, then the bathroom or adding a pinch to waste.) Crossing the third floor of the rabbit was moving into my open hand. Sara waited up to help me get the bags ... How do you explain that a whim, a pet shop? Bunny wrapped in my handkerchief, put it in the pocket of his overcoat, leaving his coat loose for not pressed. Barely moved. His conscience was fine ELECTED revealing important facts: that life is an upward movement with a final click, and is also a low sky, white envelope and smelling of lavender, at the bottom of a well warm. Sara

saw nothing, fascinated too the hard problem of adjusting their sense of order to my suitcase, closet, my papers and my indifference to his elaborate explanations which abounds the phrase "for example." I just locked myself in the bathroom to kill him now. Heat a thin area surrounding the tissue, the rabbit was very white and I think more beautiful than the others. I looked, only boiled and was happy, what was the most horrible way of looking at me. I locked myself in the empty cabinet and I went to unpack, confused but not unhappy, not guilty, no hand soap to remove one last convulsion. Realized I could not kill him. But that night I threw a black bunny. Two days later a white one. And on the fourth night, a gray rabbit. You have to love the beautiful wardrobe in your bedroom, with large door that opens generous empty tables waiting for my clothes. Now I have there. There. Truth

seems impossible, and Sara believe it. Because Sara unsuspecting, and not suspect anything comes from my horrid task, a task that takes my days and nights in one fell swoop and I will rake calcining inside and hardening as the starfish that has you over the bathtub and each toilet seems to fill a body of salt and sun and great scourges of rumors of depth. By day they sleep. There are ten. By day they sleep. With the door closed, the cabinet is a day-night just for them, there sleep his night with quiet obedience. I took the keys from the bedroom to my job. Sara must believe that distrust of his honesty and looks at me doubtfully, he looks every morning that is to say something, but the end is silent and I'm so happy. (When arranged the bedroom, nine to ten, make noise in the room, I put a disc of Benny Carter fills the air, and as Sara is also a friend of arrows and double leg, the closet seems quiet and perhaps it is because for the bunnies and the night passes and the rest.)

His day begins at that hour after dinner, when Sarah takes the tray with a tinkling often sugar tongs, I wish good night, yeah, I want them, Andrée, the more bitter is that I want a good night, and is locked in his room and suddenly I am alone, alone with the cabinet condemned, only my duty and my sadness. I leave out, throw agile to assault the room, smelling perennial clover that hid my pocket and now the carpet does ephemeral nails that they alter, remove, just at a time. Eat well, quiet and right, until that moment I have nothing to say, I look only from the sofa with a book in his hand useless I wanted to read me all Giraudoux, Andrée, and Lopez Argentina's history you have in the lowest shelf, "and eat the clover. Ten. Almost all white. Raise their head lamps warm the room, the three suns still out of your day, they who love the light because the night has no moon or stars and lanterns. Miran its triple sun and are happy.

So jump on the carpet, chairs, ten light spots are transferred as a constellation movent one party to another, while I still want to see them, watch them at my feet and still, "a little god's dream, Andrée, never fulfilled the dream of the gods, but not insinuating itself behind the portrait of Miguel de Unamuno, around the green vase, the black cavity desk, always less than ten, always six or eight and I walk wondering where the two missing, and if Sara got up for anything, and the Presidency of Rivadavia I wanted to read the story of Lopez. 18 Do not know how to resist, Andrée. You remember that I came to rest in his home. It is not my fault if occasionally vomiting a bunny, if this change also altered inside me-not nominalism, not magic, but that things can change so suddenly, sometimes brutally, and when things veer you expect the blow to the right. Thus, Andrée, or otherwise, but always well. I write at night. It's three in the afternoon but at night I write them. By day they sleep What a relief this office cover screams, orders, Royal machines, vice and mimeograph! What a relief, what peace, what horror, Andrée! Now they call me by phone, are friends who are concerned about my nights secluded, it is Luis who invites me to walk and Jorge that keeps me a concert.

I hardly dare to say no, prolonged and ineffective invention stories of ill health, backward translation, evasion and when I return and go up the elevator that stretch between the first and second floors me every night inevitably formulate the vain hope that is not true. I do what I can to avoid wrecking your stuff. Have eaten a little lower shelf books, you will find hidden to not notice Sara. Did you very much for your lamp with porcelain belly full of butterflies and knights of old? The barely cracked notes, worked all night with a special cement that sold me an English house, you know that the best English houses have cement-and now I am standing next to none of them reached again with the legs ( is almost beautiful to see how they like to stand up, longing for the distant man, perhaps in imitation of their god wandering and looking sullen, plus you will have noticed, in its infancy, perhaps, you can leave a rabbit in penance against the wall, standing, the legs supported and very still for hours).

At five in the morning (I slept a little, lying on the green couch and waking up to plush every race, every ting) put them in the closet and do the cleaning. So Sara is all good but sometimes I have seen some astonishment content, a stare at an object, a slight discoloration on the carpet and again the desire to ask me something, but I whistled Franck symphonic variations, so odd . To do tell, Andrée, the minutiae of that dawn hapless deaf and plant in lifting ropes that way entredormido clover, flyers, white fluff, giving me against furniture, crazy dream, and my Gide that is late, I have not translated Troyat, and my answers to a lady who will be wondering as far if ... why go all this, why keep this letter I write between mobile and interviews. Andrée, Andrée dear, my consolation is that they are ten and no more. A fortnight ago I held in the palm of your hand one last bunny, after all, only the ten with me, her day and night to grow as naciéndoles ugly and long hair, and young and full of emergency and whims, jumping on the bust of Antinous (is Antinous, right, that boy who looks blindly?) or lost in the living room, where their movements create resonant sounds, while I throw them away for fear that Sara and I hear appears horrified, perhaps in a nightgown, because Sarah has to be so, nightgown and then ...

Only ten, you think I have that little joy in the midst of the growing quiet with return postage to the rigid heaven of the first and second floor. I interrupted this letter because I had to attend a commission job. The still here at home, Andrée, under a dull greyness of dawn. Is it really the next day, Andrée? A blank piece of page is for you the range, just the bridge that connects my letter of yesterday to my letter today. Say that in that interval everything is broken, where you see the bridge break easy I hear water furious waist, for me this side of the paper, this side of my letter does not continue the calm with which I came when I stopped writing for attend a work of commissions. In its cubic night without sleep eleven sad bunnies, perhaps now, but no, not now - in the elevator, then, or entering, and no matter where, if the when is now, if you can be anywhere now than I have left.

enough, I wrote this because I care to prove that I was not as culpable in the destruction of his house insurmountable. Let this Carter hoped it would be sleazy to deliver mail is the one clear morning in Paris. Last night I turned the books of the second shelf, and reached them, standing or jumping, gnawed their backs to sharpen the teeth-not hunger, clover have all bought and stored them in desk drawers. They broke the curtains, fabrics of the chairs, the edge of self-portrait of Augusto Torres, carpet full of hair and shouted, were in a circle under the light of the lamp, circular, and how to worship, and suddenly screamed, shouted and I do not think rabbits scream. I wished in vain to remove the hairs that spoil the carpet, smoothing the edge of the corroded material, lock them back in the closet.

The day goes, maybe Sarah will soon be lifted. It's almost strange that I do not care to see them hopping in search of toys. I had so much guilt, you will see when I get a lot of the damage are in good repair with cement I bought in an English house, I did what I could to avoid an angry ... As for me, from 10 to 11 as a hole is unsurpassed. You see, ten was good, with a closet, clover and hope, many things can be built. And not eleven, because once is surely say twelve, Andrée, twelve to be thirteen. Then there's the cold dawn and a loneliness that fit of joy, memories, you and perhaps many more. Is this balcony on Suipacha full of dawn, the first sounds of the city. I do not think it difficult bunnies brought eleven sprinkled on the stones, may not be set on them, busy with another body which should be soon, before the first college pass.

Included in Bestiary

Caught While Flashing

CORTÁZAR: Loco a bit, nothing more ... SPIELBERG

Discuss Van Gogh is not just about the most influential painters in history, but a fascinating man who spoke with his work and with his own life with his words, his humanity conflicted so passionate, and so rarely saw an artist.

Maybe it's the same kind of soul that Beethoven was in his music or Kafka in his writings. Ardent souls who suffered and failed to find a just cause in the art for the benefit of all mankind.

"If not for your friendship, would commit suicide without pangs of conscience and although I am a coward, I would end up doing it." Letters to Theo

painter, draftsman, writer, theologian, artist. His tragic fate begins to have the name inherited from his older brother died six months earlier. Children unhappy in his words, began as assistant to his art dealer brother Theo in an art gallery and then studying theology and being a frustrated pilgrimage like his rigid father.

Like everything, it did so visceral and fighting with the buyers for their pictorial and slept like the sick and the poor fasting together, becoming rejected by the church for its "exaggeration ".

became convinced of his gift of the artist in the Netherlands, portraying the farmers in their work with dark colors, then his paintings outdoors in Paris full of color and light in that dominated his favorite fetish yellow color, made him almost an impressionist, "almost" because their forms were unique.

Although no painter gave that importance to the color of the sun and its influence in a single wheat field. It was not original, its form changed as he watched the greats of his time: the landscape as the work of Monet , color according Delacroix, figures as the other great Dutch Rembrandt .

then began to fade the edges and give importance to the volume to the hub with a rare motion effect, broken brushstrokes, pastures, was his overloaded mark getting to be an original painter and art in his time. What is surprising is that almost all his catalog was made in just six years.


His artistic brilliance (and his great failure) was in the yellow house in Arles, an old house he rented with the money he spent, at the cost of hardship, his younger brother. The famous Sunflowers, the rooms, furniture, shoes, home, were the reasons for their emotional art, skin-deep. Here invited several artists and especially Gauguin to spend a pleasant stay.

Following its not a few fights (points view than with anger Vincent) arrives at the flight of Gauguin after the famous scene from the right ear with a razor cut Van Gogh their disagreements (gift to a prostitute). Visceral

said earlier. On returning from the hospital and harassed by their neighbors, decide in a mental hospital for a stay of nearly two years of comings and goings.

One Solitary Life (only lived with a prostitute and her son and unable to keep left), no rest and be painting under the sun all day, depressed, ill cured, poor nutrition, increased the madness and were hatched in his psyche. Crisis, visual and auditory hallucinations. Yet he never stopped painting, even in the hospital painted what he saw through the window. Today the diagnosis of schizophrenia would be a mixture with epilepsy, without discarding the bipolarity.


His paintings, often sublime, it was not a madman. Suffered from a lack of money (the amount of self-portraits are exaggerated due to inability to pay models) and was convinced that his work would be worth over time. In January 1890 he writes in a journal first positive review on the work of Vincent , the world began to realize how much of their value. In February sold its first and only life table (low price).

In late July, Van Gogh , anxious for their continuous attacks of madness and aware of the financial problems of his brother and the health of your baby (called ... Vincent ) fire in the chest just below the heart and died at 2 days to 37 years.

His brother, partner and sole financier of all his work, becomes insane in a few weeks and died before 6 months.

to ignore legend, Van Gogh is like those meteors who deign to happen every once in a while over land.


"Who am I in the eyes of the people? A nullity, an eccentric and disagreeable man, somebody who does not have a position, the most miserable of the miserable. While this is true, I would like My works show what is in the heart of this eccentric, this one. "Letters to Theo

Vitals Signs Of Head Injury

Despite a real friendship between these two principals brought by endless phone calls, dinners and shared ideas (remember Kubrick "gift" to Steven his personal version of the classic tale of Pinocchio called Artificial Intelligence), some critics underwriting to the idea that Spielberg really did not like the films of Stanley , recalling a phrase Dad ET in saying that Barry Lyndon had seemed "just moving paintings."

The reality here are the words ...



Finally, an old joke about these giants: Steven Spielberg has just died and is greeted in heaven by the angel Gabriel who told him: "God has seen all his movies, has told me to please him in everything. Just tell me what you need, anything I am at your orders. " Then Steven says, "Actually, I've always wanted to meet Stanley Kubrick Can fix a date?".
Gabriel looks at him: "YOU. Stanley knows that not like interviews, I'm sorry, I can not do that, "... but you told me ...."
Gabriel: "I am very sorry I can not really give that." It will take a walk paradise and see it happen to a guy with beard and military jacket
cycling ... "OH MY GOD!, look, there is Stanley Kubrick! Exclaims ..."¿ Spielberg could not even stop to say hello? "The archangel Gabriel takes him aside and whispers:" It is not Stanley Kubrick is God who is believed Stanley Kubrick ".

Smelly Urine Bloody Discharge

KUBRICK TALKS ABOUT JOHN ...

October 9, 2010

Jesse Jane Free Film Clips

OK GO THE VIDEOS OF JOHN LENNON

all say that the music of Americans OK GO, being good, is bland, colorless, dull, worthless.

Maybe they're right, but what is clear is that they are the kings of the video clip, a boom in Youtube sometimes with few resources, but with many, many ideas.

Your videos than a single sequence together into one, more video ideas all together to many bands. Visits include the net of a million and choreographic fame reaches the spoof ...



For example, this video in one take too, managed to attempt 60, with 30 engineers, physicists and two days of filming uff. When something went wrong, take 1 hour to put everything back in place. The song that you? Je Nah, it's not important ...


This according to the singer arrived in good shape to take 124! It is understood when viewed by the actors, knowing that a top is that it is nearly impossible to film children and animals (The theme is well done! Or at least I like it more than they do in general) ...



This tired of just seeing it, have stayed in the park ha ... It is said that there were 8 days of fighting with the band, extras and a goose! The dress reminds me a Parchis grown or if we get ill, about underdevelopment Power Rangers ...


His great claim to fame is the video of gym treadmills, uan \u200b\u200bsimple idea but difficult to perform. Do not put it here because there is no person who has not seen more than 15 million hits on YouTube, a record unsurpassed.

A video that I can see a thousand times and not get tired. The song helps in this case, it seems very good, accomplished within its style indie, pop and rock mixed in equal parts.

The Ok Go, a rare case of musical fame ... extra musical.

Song That Goes Papapapapa

Surprise I got this new artist named Ciara, new to me clear that I am not in the news, which brings together in one woman black, everything I love about stars like Beyoncé and Jennifer Lopez , concerning solo female stars of today.

Beauty, good voice, talent for dancing and plenty of attitude would be that it meets basic requirements. Ciara Princess Harris debuted in 2004 with only 19 on the album Goodies it was a success and has 3 albums in a career high to low perhaps, but full of tasteful collaborations with artists such of Missy Elliott, Ludacris , Justin Timberlake and 50 Cent which they say is his current partner (yuck) (also made a video and theme with Enrique Iglesias ... and good).

This brunette is about to release a new album called Basic Instinct and spero only be listenable, with their own videos as I can ...

Haircut Synystergates

CIARA COVERS

not really reasons I hope never to make a post about John Lennon . The mere fact of knowing the most important musician of my personal story in conjunction with an entire rainy day I may. The endless tributes music you see in the youtube I also made everything easier. Here are some examples ...

Elton is a musician not to my liking but do a good version of a song like Imagine is not easy and he confidently achieved. I heard this subject for many artists and this is one of the best versions.





Lou Reed is a legend but not because of recognition because of their strength on stage, but rather in the manner of a Bob Dylan , for his letters and fair interpretation, as well as brain. And I never saw him in this tribute to Lennon , furiously singing Jealous Guy, with such passion and feeling the loss of John . A great.




As Elton, David Bowie was lucky enough to write a song with John ( Fame). When he had the opportunity with his mega band of the late 80's Tin Machine, made this cover of Working Class Hero for the debut album, this live version.





Finally (though there are thousands of examples) another great AD, Michael Jackson surprises with his version of Come togheter for his film Moonwalker to have their taste more akin to the songs of his friend Paul .

Random Patches Of Dry Skin On My Body

CHAPLIN ON (AND ON POE)

The Other Poe

by Abelardo Castillo

Rilke famously taught not to venture into certain issues, on which, having been so much written or excellent, it is almost impossible to add anything. I will desoírlo. Literature as we know, is always a misdemeanor. I'll talk about Chaplin.

Chaplin in the film the priest, in my town, spoke Chaplin (and sounds better, sounds like breaking glass) does not belong to me in art history, even to the cinema. Belongs to another story, less grandiose, more bum: a mine. To jump a fence and mud or, crammed the pockets of persimmons, to circumvent the spinster broom indicator of private property. Once, says a poet, gave the whole universe in the box a mustache.

Since then everyone has the Carlitos you deserve. When we are kids we all, a Chaplin identical, with an accent Chaplin, a dizzying Carlitos fantastic dodging punches and both hit you with a mop, as I crush a cream cake at the official nose. E l time passes, and suddenly a suspect if the real Charlie will not be the defender of pale girls, kissing the painful Carlitos to another, to the end of the road.

some reading, some pushing of those who speak Vallejo - "There are blows in life, so strong, I do not know" - and Chaplin starts to be the rectangle with a mustache where it the universe. That each one deserves. As with Don Quixote. As with God.

The Chaplin I say it is tragic. It hurts. ale no longer gives Hungary it falls off the seat, just when it should dazzle Paulette Godard. There is something horrible about it to know who are not their fists, as befits the brave hero, if not random, which prevails over the huge mob. And one day he realizes that Charlie is apparent invulnerability.

same elegance is apparent. Dandy outside the walls, a broken and arbritaria of Byron, sewer Brummel-making balance with the feet at an impossible angle, as drunk as the tightrope on a tightrope, "that Chaplin that I use is like another person.

His coat, his stick, his mustache foolish, and especially its manrera drunk to walk, remind me strangely another coat, other staff, other rectangular bigotitoss and walked again for the world. Gomez de la Serna, I think, was the first (perhaps only), which warned the physical resemblance of which I speak. Because the terrible magic wanted to have peace in my soul, Chaplin looked like Edgar Poe.

Viewed from behind, lléndose one dirt road surely leads to the epicenter of hope wandering, the other by the warped perspective of a dark alley in Baltimore, you could swear they are the same. Fantastic dialectical teach that are the same.

Because if everything in its depth, its most terrifying dreams otherwise, from heaven to hell, contempt of piety, love of life to the horror of death, what is the distance? Once imagined that Poe died to live Whitman. Since I do not. Poe was raised in Chaplin dialectically. Trompifai why still haunts him.

There was a Greek who remembered his mu past multiple warrior, tree, fish, girl, Chaplin was once ignored Poe. However, in a movie appear - back-to the door of a tavern, with his foot wrapped in a cloth.

And you remember then a jump that recorded the biographies of Poe, and a seam the most immortal hitting the wall in a shoe that records the history of poetry because it happened to one pair of boots that had the greatest poet of his time. I do not know if Poe foot wrapped in a cloth, but the tavern. Always was.

A year before his death Poe, United Esatdos annex the largest gold deposits of the continent, Poe did not have time to make the backpack and go find some grain, sold the most beautiful poem in the English language for five dollars . The small Virginia Clemm, then, died of consumption. Another man, many years later, filming a movie, find a site and save a girl.

Both understood that the surrender of the men is to be like the guys ; Carlitos recovered them for children of laughter for fear Poe to the horrors of the pure, elemental. Sometimes Poe's dreams become entangled with those of Charlot and write a story as the method of Professor Dr. Tar and Feather, which could be imagined by Chaplin, and this film Monsieur Verdoux, which could be a nightmare of Poe. Usher blocked the women; Verdoux the burn.

pursued Every man is the attempt of another man. I say walked the stumbling a terrible night in Baltimore. Silhouetted against the grim streets, his good looks old Southern gentleman, worn, gave a rare appearance of the creek dandy.

Turning a corner, drunk to death, with laudanum-was about to fall sprawling and Vigilant was smoothed his mustache. For a second there was only Moon hysterical, Flake, on the street. And then it happened. The figure tropezante knight suddenly had forever solved the biggest problem of his life.

was the October 7, 1849, and for that he had escaped from a remote home Eve. Beautifully restored the balance. He opened his feet, reboleó stick, he grew outrageous Punchinello shoes, turned on his heels, and come back, his hat in greeting, went fast, very plump, with the night watchman perplexed. Then he invented a way.

And walks through the world, as whole, greeting people for any reason, saving girls, breaking glass, raising a red flag, eating the laces of his boots, playing forever be Carlitos.

included in the words and the days,
Abelardo Castillo, Emecé, 1988

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THERAPEUTIC FAMILY CONSTELLATION GROUP

START FAMILY CONSTELLATION GROUP THERAPEUTIC

I invite you to participate in 8 matches each week after forming a therapeutic group of family constellations, why group therapy?

Because a therapeutic group work for several sessions with the same people different aspects that may need to order or resolve.

In a climate of trust and confidence, experiencing and sharing with "fellow travelers" the most real and profound encounter with yourself and others.

My approach is fundamentally systemic, phenomenological and experiential, using a set of techniques that come from family constellations, Gestalt, NLP, Meditation and other systemic tools all in the service of learning from direct experience, what images tell us more than the speeches themselves, uniting body, mind and heart. Especially working with the events of the family in several generations. We work for everything that happened has its recognized place and can be integrated in the life of loving everyone.

group can be considered as a sounding board where power awareness, a laboratory where
contact and experience with others, serves as a mirror and facilitator in understanding yourself, the way you relations, and the places you occupy.

encourage you to let you experience
Andrea García Sención

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