tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37986061481028108152024-03-13T08:17:35.686+01:00La Fée aux MiettesEl hada de las miguitas es un blog para gente con estilo y amante de la cultura.miettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17437889684049382896noreply@blogger.comBlogger951125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3798606148102810815.post-4409716469765170732022-11-22T17:54:00.000+01:002022-11-22T17:54:55.643+01:00Diosa<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiz_bY2JwG4SgeFk1wdyVFI_07IDxqQ9d_8GFBmwfItqBzPNJ2HUr-2-4OjX2txgdm0bH0GEZLgM0tYxrhSt8yyMUqhqC6BGqzhQH9TFfqt98BqHaGof-vfWVcgKq4wd2jwglGit_cAadQmPwskySoo20-NPPCZhGDDb-YyGT_KeuLHkoG9Ib-7qn2tSg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #bf9000;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1052" data-original-width="845" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiz_bY2JwG4SgeFk1wdyVFI_07IDxqQ9d_8GFBmwfItqBzPNJ2HUr-2-4OjX2txgdm0bH0GEZLgM0tYxrhSt8yyMUqhqC6BGqzhQH9TFfqt98BqHaGof-vfWVcgKq4wd2jwglGit_cAadQmPwskySoo20-NPPCZhGDDb-YyGT_KeuLHkoG9Ib-7qn2tSg" width="193" /></span></a></div><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;"><div style="text-align: center;">Dejarte fue como morir un poco, abandonar la vida. </div></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;">Todo estaba en mis sueños, desornizados y terribles. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;">Y te perdía, necesitaba de tu cuerpo y te rendias. </span><p></p></div>miettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17437889684049382896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3798606148102810815.post-9952422532850009942022-11-16T22:57:00.000+01:002022-11-16T22:57:14.098+01:00El suicida<p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjYginiH8rlMWMaKuAyNVVhn1KYiuANstd6Fpbd1W_zVu5QVLwXypHxHsrKUlWs3KigqLJaboKn-mB2hMVFmh4UPiyB4WB5eQoZvXp_iEyZPQAwm9dKBh_FTNjtXvOixNB_YEionaXrm_pFXGIXqY1NvxUOSCeTVwMN4fXa0TDDFaJ0hv6u8Z1aRBuspg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="272" data-original-width="220" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjYginiH8rlMWMaKuAyNVVhn1KYiuANstd6Fpbd1W_zVu5QVLwXypHxHsrKUlWs3KigqLJaboKn-mB2hMVFmh4UPiyB4WB5eQoZvXp_iEyZPQAwm9dKBh_FTNjtXvOixNB_YEionaXrm_pFXGIXqY1NvxUOSCeTVwMN4fXa0TDDFaJ0hv6u8Z1aRBuspg" width="194" /></a></div><br /> <span style="color: #bf9000;"> <span style="background-color: white; text-indent: -1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">No quedará en la noche una estrella. </span></span></span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #bf9000;"><span style="background-color: white; text-indent: -1em;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia; text-indent: -1em;">No quedará la noche.</span></span></p><div class="verse" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; padding-left: 1em; text-align: center; text-indent: -1em;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;">Moriré y conmigo la suma</span></div><div class="verse" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; padding-left: 1em; text-align: center; text-indent: -1em;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;">del intolerable universo.</span></div><div class="verse" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; padding-left: 1em; text-align: center; text-indent: -1em;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;">Borraré las pirámides, las medallas,</span></div><div class="verse" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; padding-left: 1em; text-align: center; text-indent: -1em;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;">los continentes y las caras.</span></div><div class="verse" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; padding-left: 1em; text-align: center; text-indent: -1em;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;">Borraré la acumulación del pasado.</span></div><div class="verse" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; padding-left: 1em; text-align: center; text-indent: -1em;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;">Haré polvo la historia, polvo el polvo.</span></div><div class="verse" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; padding-left: 1em; text-align: center; text-indent: -1em;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;">Estoy mirando el último poniente.</span></div><div class="verse" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; padding-left: 1em; text-align: center; text-indent: -1em;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;">Oigo el último pájaro.</span></div><div class="verse" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; padding-left: 1em; text-align: center; text-indent: -1em;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;">Lego la nada a nadie.</span></div><div class="verse" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; padding-left: 1em; text-align: center; text-indent: -1em;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;">(Borges) </span></div>miettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17437889684049382896noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3798606148102810815.post-56720079442293336472022-10-23T23:39:00.002+02:002022-10-23T23:44:43.681+02:00Dorothy<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj3bhOT4BkkyNCIREYT9xkRs0xw95WNPFkLRDM7DbbxcZfyb_uwfH3mnQZLjXnQfbSisg2qtyTs4U6gpL_rkt5nYvLtU8bAWFmEQN1l0K8n9Qe7ecbH2pCWWSwfQrxgXMIO5Ogx9RDOaK192Dp1GJIc9bABUAxg46gFEbd36WrmtMZuG1uPDKwCx3-cXA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="699" data-original-width="1050" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj3bhOT4BkkyNCIREYT9xkRs0xw95WNPFkLRDM7DbbxcZfyb_uwfH3mnQZLjXnQfbSisg2qtyTs4U6gpL_rkt5nYvLtU8bAWFmEQN1l0K8n9Qe7ecbH2pCWWSwfQrxgXMIO5Ogx9RDOaK192Dp1GJIc9bABUAxg46gFEbd36WrmtMZuG1uPDKwCx3-cXA" width="320" /></a></div><span style="background-color: whitesmoke; font-size: 18px;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;">Por supuesto que hablo sola. Me gusta oír a un buen orador y aprecio una audiencia inteligente </span></span><span style="background-color: whitesmoke; color: #333333; font-family: Palatino, "Palatino Linotype", Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 18px;">.</span></div><p></p><p></p>miettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17437889684049382896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3798606148102810815.post-3384837773712142802022-09-22T11:58:00.001+02:002022-09-22T11:58:36.988+02:00Soñar<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4pvk8KtB5Xb-3t2bg8kFIB6tU34G2EuFcxXQ-O8siW2J3Z3kfrRko6QY9EO0bQjBlsqAdVulk024XIjEtAllgR6ifr01rgSO-5eMbmhJbOkwlV2q6jywYeFvWMlMy10Vk5PJ5k0lYlEWId3eNZxqikZpNS_f_FKRVqKiIqXjfmbEB4NNVgg9-pXH1kA/s3120/IMG_20220911_123428.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2893" data-original-width="3120" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4pvk8KtB5Xb-3t2bg8kFIB6tU34G2EuFcxXQ-O8siW2J3Z3kfrRko6QY9EO0bQjBlsqAdVulk024XIjEtAllgR6ifr01rgSO-5eMbmhJbOkwlV2q6jywYeFvWMlMy10Vk5PJ5k0lYlEWId3eNZxqikZpNS_f_FKRVqKiIqXjfmbEB4NNVgg9-pXH1kA/w404-h336/IMG_20220911_123428.jpg" width="404" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"> <span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;">Por qué me llama, no es suficiente el miedo que tengo? Y el siempre esta cerca, como un amigo desleal del cuál no puedo escapar.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;">A pesar de este dolor y de este miedo, que me paraliza, quiero seguir mi camino. Quiero subime a un caballo de ajedrez quiero ser la metafica de un naipe, y soñar que todo vuelve a empezar. </span></div>miettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17437889684049382896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3798606148102810815.post-31305002734679882802022-08-31T00:06:00.000+02:002022-08-31T00:06:22.249+02:00Luz y oscuridad<p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiL2j57167aIxHfFAd-JhKnZ5O3Jbdcd4nh5PmoUHMTagHc8w-z3HXJjuQDHLL5oibRN4_p93fqmSWO_Ai6Ny58bd4SCzQRD40RVyIOLaXIzzNAnrR5U6Qh1oNYEDQpW9umJR-JZsuF2QXilTG2DogvEYK0CVCus7-Ab1DvG8-Zups59NAFxZcFnFh_ZQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="540" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiL2j57167aIxHfFAd-JhKnZ5O3Jbdcd4nh5PmoUHMTagHc8w-z3HXJjuQDHLL5oibRN4_p93fqmSWO_Ai6Ny58bd4SCzQRD40RVyIOLaXIzzNAnrR5U6Qh1oNYEDQpW9umJR-JZsuF2QXilTG2DogvEYK0CVCus7-Ab1DvG8-Zups59NAFxZcFnFh_ZQ" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;">Para que la luz brille tan intensamente, la oscuridad debe estar presente. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;"> (Francis Bacon) </span></div><br /><p></p>miettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17437889684049382896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3798606148102810815.post-22769034369203087292022-08-21T14:44:00.000+02:002022-08-21T14:44:00.763+02:00Agosto....<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgScAmQNK7AdkpE8F8kpKD88xxgzdqzimIH4GULhwRmNDWrr4Xd7gXU02518zmSbkSaFmud_9CaXLbwbWHglGfcEEu8Dpf79bH1DISdze7asnE1CdCwmMPin4fZyRY5oKL0eOgj649zDGCKB23SSjwT3s_hUTSc8G-A3WhGK8-dIF2iO52n9o4yWpreQg/s1440/cartoon1654072360799.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1080" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgScAmQNK7AdkpE8F8kpKD88xxgzdqzimIH4GULhwRmNDWrr4Xd7gXU02518zmSbkSaFmud_9CaXLbwbWHglGfcEEu8Dpf79bH1DISdze7asnE1CdCwmMPin4fZyRY5oKL0eOgj649zDGCKB23SSjwT3s_hUTSc8G-A3WhGK8-dIF2iO52n9o4yWpreQg/w280-h456/cartoon1654072360799.jpg" width="280" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"> <span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;">Cuando una palabra, un hecho, una sospecha nos ha producido una intensa agitación pasional, llega el momento en que al agitarnos nos damos cuenta de que ya no recordamos la palabra, el hecho, la sospecha. Pero la pasión es cada vez más intensa.</span></div><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;"> (Cesare Pavese, El oficio de vivir, 28 de agosto)</span></div>miettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17437889684049382896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3798606148102810815.post-45157685709485583472022-08-12T17:37:00.000+02:002022-08-12T17:37:24.864+02:00Talón de Aquiles<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTegKsljLTSFCVT5AL25orkj5lMawnnL-EmPdxLwGPfcD5zeKThpenM-VUHwD0psMbpCoVjL3CV3D3jXCV5LPTNnM3JZoOLxKkMap7KKFJlqz-7_WGS-BtNTN6CM8F9SpVSws9m1lQ5CO892cMCQszZ76N-Ji4vsLiG2L9MOL-atztZlDnloY-B4T0dA/s1164/0e6fbba7c80062ccdf0be9dfbfa807f3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1164" data-original-width="537" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTegKsljLTSFCVT5AL25orkj5lMawnnL-EmPdxLwGPfcD5zeKThpenM-VUHwD0psMbpCoVjL3CV3D3jXCV5LPTNnM3JZoOLxKkMap7KKFJlqz-7_WGS-BtNTN6CM8F9SpVSws9m1lQ5CO892cMCQszZ76N-Ji4vsLiG2L9MOL-atztZlDnloY-B4T0dA/w263-h320/0e6fbba7c80062ccdf0be9dfbfa807f3.jpg" width="263" /></a></div><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Más allá de los minutos, del tiempo que difumina tu recuerdo, escondido quizás en mi pulgar, en mi talón de aquiles, en mis pupilas de algodón....en las palabras que no digo...</div></span><p></p>miettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17437889684049382896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3798606148102810815.post-29470991620705277352022-08-02T15:29:00.001+02:002022-08-02T15:29:40.643+02:00Nihilismo.. <p style="text-align: justify;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhkCWL8Z_i0mHuDj6OogMEO1_Fg-lTIOZQTUVUv9EOolKOmZEV38U05V9NYQLSUu46ksRLHusC1dsVg1PBZ43ZrEXmj8gTyfxHNSoqEDYJuCyUWqeBob7alQFV2wMcJvMfXe7JdCOKvLplaSzfgsFwOFJKYwHPUM-L4Mj-mGq-aPJLRpggsnXvjN_jDhQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="238" data-original-width="300" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhkCWL8Z_i0mHuDj6OogMEO1_Fg-lTIOZQTUVUv9EOolKOmZEV38U05V9NYQLSUu46ksRLHusC1dsVg1PBZ43ZrEXmj8gTyfxHNSoqEDYJuCyUWqeBob7alQFV2wMcJvMfXe7JdCOKvLplaSzfgsFwOFJKYwHPUM-L4Mj-mGq-aPJLRpggsnXvjN_jDhQ" width="303" /></a></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-b50be3c2-7fff-09c9-413f-26fec00a9fd7" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;">Desconfía de las conclusiones ilógicas y prematuras, de lo que te parezca insignificante y cuando te sorprendas y cuando te sorprendas que la meta final de la existencia es la nada. El nihilismo sin fundamento no es más que un sentimentalismo absurdo. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-b50be3c2-7fff-09c9-413f-26fec00a9fd7" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;"> (El invierno</span><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: georgia;"> </span><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;">de aquel año, Yi mun-gol) </span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><p></p>miettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17437889684049382896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3798606148102810815.post-43905217096741905102022-07-25T00:10:00.000+02:002022-07-25T00:10:01.047+02:00Emoción... <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiokOkKH_SZOhmWraYhBpkKe6cBgql1bDXsG96HZPdD5_P7mkfY3d5n0PIaym3VQMH90aFisfop2aBGyWGPuNLnS3SVTwUdMClAWZHf2LcIKER7Mx05Ht85kB6ys17SF4fZa0X2nUaDa3_KE9VLeQz78ED871m62Do5r0501Ar5NfYk0y-lOqgfysmqIA/s4160/IMG_20220712_132426.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiokOkKH_SZOhmWraYhBpkKe6cBgql1bDXsG96HZPdD5_P7mkfY3d5n0PIaym3VQMH90aFisfop2aBGyWGPuNLnS3SVTwUdMClAWZHf2LcIKER7Mx05Ht85kB6ys17SF4fZa0X2nUaDa3_KE9VLeQz78ED871m62Do5r0501Ar5NfYk0y-lOqgfysmqIA/w295-h320/IMG_20220712_132426.jpg" width="295" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-9d5eefed-7fff-076c-b730-891e18600883" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;">Tus manos son una luz parpadeante, un explorador de mi cuerpo en llamas. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;">Inquieta, algo se remueve en mi, pidiendo carantoñas sin facciones. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;">Cómo un halo de emoción me invades, coges mi alma y juegas, como un rebrote de vid de plata,.. </span></span></p>miettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17437889684049382896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3798606148102810815.post-61987772400524793732022-07-14T18:57:00.000+02:002022-07-14T18:57:18.027+02:00Rarezas... <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiwEhuunx95MScTPCmSQfk8dzlvF2G01NkBfMn-3l5Zqn2mp8n4_yd-w0HJqs127hs7S8S33AxjEVUh88d-Q3OYwpAdr6V6VrCpkrSZU65oPzpoh5Xu3FDrvBiXDJGuIwfwMQidOlNfl3TCEk8R5sihl2J-T7zS_snUpXZ5llne4Pobie6DmnfWJZccwA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="432" data-original-width="768" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiwEhuunx95MScTPCmSQfk8dzlvF2G01NkBfMn-3l5Zqn2mp8n4_yd-w0HJqs127hs7S8S33AxjEVUh88d-Q3OYwpAdr6V6VrCpkrSZU65oPzpoh5Xu3FDrvBiXDJGuIwfwMQidOlNfl3TCEk8R5sihl2J-T7zS_snUpXZ5llne4Pobie6DmnfWJZccwA" width="320" /></a></div><p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-f4902c4a-7fff-59f0-7e76-0cf0e721294f" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;"> El convencionalismo no es moralidad.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;"> El fariseísmo no es religión.</span></span><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Atacar lo uno no significa agredir lo otro</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;">.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;"> Charlotte Brontë, 1847</span></span></p><p></p>miettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17437889684049382896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3798606148102810815.post-1249374975311082152022-07-10T11:03:00.000+02:002022-07-10T11:05:07.812+02:00Caminos.. <p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj6zmYTE2O0ruGrDl9fFWqzqTPooslNojOn2BEOK1NsQSrrzzBj971myemBbGXBwL6YA7geJZUsWPwxhD5LCVnlaXyqpFrfAgpubmRFX3lTgi9Qk5wZfZD-Jgy2hY7iw5o54eIwkGqg3HULNo-PFl0hNjc5CRhmhqqA5dFTXTBLvEbo-R-zjShWenz9wg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="691" data-original-width="600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj6zmYTE2O0ruGrDl9fFWqzqTPooslNojOn2BEOK1NsQSrrzzBj971myemBbGXBwL6YA7geJZUsWPwxhD5LCVnlaXyqpFrfAgpubmRFX3lTgi9Qk5wZfZD-Jgy2hY7iw5o54eIwkGqg3HULNo-PFl0hNjc5CRhmhqqA5dFTXTBLvEbo-R-zjShWenz9wg" width="208" /></a></span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">No quisiera pensar más, solo dejarme llevar, lejos de los caminos arruinados, devastados, lejos de todo. Volver a encontrar sentido a las nubes, a las golondrinas que anidan en mi pecho, a los caminos con leyenda.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Solo quiero dibujar el día con tu nombre,.</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">.</span></p>miettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17437889684049382896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3798606148102810815.post-953421824252607002022-07-03T19:50:00.002+02:002022-07-25T00:13:35.114+02:00Colores<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjJHrWPj2XgUbv4utTshxrbgY1kbCmdL5SycqqTpEMCGU2hSnteEm1XlxJCFyiJvx-VnKC8tytWRSNa4B44XyukrA06nKC8QTMN3wt0xSQFzTz_FeEzCcasMMvhQ2MGlsX5sugFjNX1pzV1MwUjd_giz7_jOeUHqJbxvXHZdd4k9FQUz72y5nq0hLuXGg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;"><img alt="" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjJHrWPj2XgUbv4utTshxrbgY1kbCmdL5SycqqTpEMCGU2hSnteEm1XlxJCFyiJvx-VnKC8tytWRSNa4B44XyukrA06nKC8QTMN3wt0xSQFzTz_FeEzCcasMMvhQ2MGlsX5sugFjNX1pzV1MwUjd_giz7_jOeUHqJbxvXHZdd4k9FQUz72y5nq0hLuXGg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Se pasó, todo fue rápido, indoloro y mi tristeza se volvió incolora. En mi pensamiento quedaban solamente algúnos retazos disueltos en la brea, en la melancolía </div></span><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;">A veces creo que lo soñé todo, una ficción de colores saturados.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;">De todo aquello no queda nada, ni siquiera el recuerdo.</span> </div><div><br /></div>miettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17437889684049382896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3798606148102810815.post-9831670760879221522022-06-29T09:48:00.003+02:002022-07-25T00:16:49.683+02:00Espejos.. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi9ib99K1TYHB-ICRmwfMZiUwm2DbHUQ3mXjK7arV4HjZ4joof3R8uP045an8g_LssSHHykl9PC-ZVLeSNDyWOxnZCZfl9K21gpxVICqLNTl48NZ3x4i7C17Mi3beTDhfYVZA1AuHsi1yp-uAhKZVAHpHl_tui8Ep-D5jZ9NFkLf_HD-wLNykzHdJfRnA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="160" data-original-width="220" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi9ib99K1TYHB-ICRmwfMZiUwm2DbHUQ3mXjK7arV4HjZ4joof3R8uP045an8g_LssSHHykl9PC-ZVLeSNDyWOxnZCZfl9K21gpxVICqLNTl48NZ3x4i7C17Mi3beTDhfYVZA1AuHsi1yp-uAhKZVAHpHl_tui8Ep-D5jZ9NFkLf_HD-wLNykzHdJfRnA" width="320" /></a></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> <span style="color: #bf9000;"> <span style="font-family: georgia;">Urge proclamar que el misterio y lo maravilloso no están fuera sino dentro de las cosas y de los seres, transformándose a cada instante unos y otros unidos como están por continuos vínculos. </span></span></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;"> (Espejos, Pierre Mabille) </span></p></blockquote><p></p>miettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17437889684049382896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3798606148102810815.post-44537252525438491782022-06-18T14:58:00.006+02:002022-06-18T15:01:18.923+02:00El país de los meteoros. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi_vJQPXKry6bkWnpuvtc4x8pPFU34sLoSD9Qn8SndL0KDG0JHn5phd7X7VnJ15tLcU839dvxFGoN0tn-hxjPlhVBFI0DrLA4UdTU665C2wc0WgeNsJAIOW9AxPR6AURFHit6GgZmRokkRkxAgYTD2nJR6Gr83xDXYf3vnFz5tTAdby4eGfPEVn-tzWHg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="662" data-original-width="828" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi_vJQPXKry6bkWnpuvtc4x8pPFU34sLoSD9Qn8SndL0KDG0JHn5phd7X7VnJ15tLcU839dvxFGoN0tn-hxjPlhVBFI0DrLA4UdTU665C2wc0WgeNsJAIOW9AxPR6AURFHit6GgZmRokkRkxAgYTD2nJR6Gr83xDXYf3vnFz5tTAdby4eGfPEVn-tzWHg" width="300" /></a></div><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Isabel llegó del país de los meteoros, de las conmociones, de las catástrofes, de los estragos. Me lanzó una palabra liberada, un programa, en su hálito el frescor de los mares del norte. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> (Violette Le Duc, Thérese et Isabelle) </div></span>miettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17437889684049382896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3798606148102810815.post-88647377071775474302022-06-13T14:48:00.004+02:002022-07-25T00:26:01.684+02:00Inmortal mientras vive.. <p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgkfxWaxtsx5lGNO9cZDQp9eINoMItg0FJCo9agzamvDk8ybJR_H4hdST5Z6k7U_D1s4LkPYa6XfckmgT64bDdjIZcqBfjife0ZThS4zmxS014Q7Xq29DIB4iYmYewKitwsql4CNUfkwe3bHic3zV6JzXnq-blBz3nwioqyKW1eFOrqNaSV-_U5081moA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="395" data-original-width="600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgkfxWaxtsx5lGNO9cZDQp9eINoMItg0FJCo9agzamvDk8ybJR_H4hdST5Z6k7U_D1s4LkPYa6XfckmgT64bDdjIZcqBfjife0ZThS4zmxS014Q7Xq29DIB4iYmYewKitwsql4CNUfkwe3bHic3zV6JzXnq-blBz3nwioqyKW1eFOrqNaSV-_U5081moA=w269-h225" width="269" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;">Considera la vejez de este modo: que tu vida esté en juego en un hecho cotidiano. Uno no puede eludir el conocimiento de lo que le aguarda dentro de poco. El silencio que le rodeará para siempre. Por lo demás, todo es lo mismo. Por lo demás, uno es inmortal mientras vive.</span></p><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;"> (El animal moribundo. Philip Roth)</span></p><p><br /></p><p></p>miettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17437889684049382896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3798606148102810815.post-65803785016630523462022-06-09T18:31:00.001+02:002022-06-09T18:32:13.018+02:00Rue de l'Odéon.. <p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="500" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhW5WFko3FrUwN7T5LFnebk6j29fe5txG0Uw8Im64moKayUiuswIs7ysUKXmginl1GhU61A9RRA8S8X8uAtAaFSIfhMP8o89GlLdRGKsKzC2wc0JrMPdysBb3N1N14qsjM8rokH6VtPdUMJmuR4_Ge7cHYSLfm1Y9FdyAvq3ULasO9ilnm8zppVSOKsfw" width="320" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #bf9000;">Para el vidente-un bardo de ojos</span> <span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;">cerrados - por encima de las luchas de los hombres están las luchas de los dioses, y sus risas!!</span></span></div><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;">Adrienne Monnier (Rue de l'Odéon</span>) </span></p>miettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17437889684049382896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3798606148102810815.post-75203748187098622142022-05-28T18:48:00.000+02:002022-05-28T18:48:19.932+02:00Presente...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiHVRlypAn4EUT3weZ4KHXSAhlMjeUmtkeLBn8xlTBFqB5gIHOZHteaFUjxbJU5anJk_AmpxyAUnoVplkttK_WkOzpdg_LOhpDvWckYBsfoEKF2PeZ4rV011psrJ8X3iSnCK9lR5I0LlddIlq-wq9Vj5pGLerN59HoHqzDlmQT23Po77b4NZSe-XpUBCw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="391" data-original-width="696" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiHVRlypAn4EUT3weZ4KHXSAhlMjeUmtkeLBn8xlTBFqB5gIHOZHteaFUjxbJU5anJk_AmpxyAUnoVplkttK_WkOzpdg_LOhpDvWckYBsfoEKF2PeZ4rV011psrJ8X3iSnCK9lR5I0LlddIlq-wq9Vj5pGLerN59HoHqzDlmQT23Po77b4NZSe-XpUBCw" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: large;">M</span><span style="font-size: medium;">e resisto a la cuenta atrás o adelante de los años, de los tiempos, No hay otra salvación que el presente, el presente es todo mío y me moriré en presente, con este viento alto, marinero en seco, este sol intemporal y este lujo de verdor que debe tener incendiados y alegres los cementerios. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: medium;">(F. Umbral, Un ser de lejanías)</span></span></div><p></p>miettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17437889684049382896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3798606148102810815.post-27031814624276483892022-05-17T09:53:00.001+02:002022-05-17T12:00:30.685+02:00Metáfora del alma<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg_0J9mt7leKxDLYYniDd3cuSmMzQtf9ZCuHzty4dTHTm63bB6u9Zk1hbl7iaZhNZXkX_0Zo5H_wJ5Hq2ME0wnBGIDcil6rnwGGkh1-t7RYrKVe9qYhhcJSrwgK95YTsbH3z55VjYvC115um2kUi61MH44Wz2KSqT5WRHVjJYKFnt1KbKXbA6U0hq5HfQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="729" data-original-width="1024" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg_0J9mt7leKxDLYYniDd3cuSmMzQtf9ZCuHzty4dTHTm63bB6u9Zk1hbl7iaZhNZXkX_0Zo5H_wJ5Hq2ME0wnBGIDcil6rnwGGkh1-t7RYrKVe9qYhhcJSrwgK95YTsbH3z55VjYvC115um2kUi61MH44Wz2KSqT5WRHVjJYKFnt1KbKXbA6U0hq5HfQ" width="320" /></a></div><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;">Para mí, mirarte cara a cara es un ejercicio difuso de tristeza. Para ti, es una metáfora de orgullo, del olvido mal empleado</span>.. </div></span><p></p>miettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17437889684049382896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3798606148102810815.post-59231026498130210972022-05-13T10:07:00.002+02:002022-05-13T10:21:24.685+02:00El pensamiento infinito<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgPQJKHoOsb8CxB7DtqUOAKg_6nUxRR07EwvsltoFyH5-P5s7MGZJbbwtdax8O8Yv-0BzBzhlc7Y0VIgcmKQ1ayupYm8sPW937jzAJdFVgt-jll5yxcxH9RgDAk4wPBvLdLoeGDLBBLkq_WZllRKq_4nUOVlYCZ8vxU0VwayvXfotJMrh1wDYKvjgu4-g" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="396" data-original-width="700" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgPQJKHoOsb8CxB7DtqUOAKg_6nUxRR07EwvsltoFyH5-P5s7MGZJbbwtdax8O8Yv-0BzBzhlc7Y0VIgcmKQ1ayupYm8sPW937jzAJdFVgt-jll5yxcxH9RgDAk4wPBvLdLoeGDLBBLkq_WZllRKq_4nUOVlYCZ8vxU0VwayvXfotJMrh1wDYKvjgu4-g" width="320" /></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: #bf9000;">Y aún resonaban tus palabras,en mi cabeza"mis niños", y yo tenía el mismo pensamiento,ternura infinita</span> </span></b></div><p></p>miettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17437889684049382896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3798606148102810815.post-21042783574004687152022-03-11T13:35:00.003+01:002022-03-11T14:38:18.807+01:00amor humano..<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjYlghdw2Kx7msdu6v6atZ_4s5TdOyaROvKrtPz0Ud_HEpiiVcgqjibCrncE9oeQskW_NKqW-7ziNJFZUV7AaO3TMPMsr5zY_UC86bR-XcY_xgydZ2HjDG4U7mzyx8ACyI2FcYmwuCrN9nh0IkhkNQeG6UzDSihSJhYZ6quymkGiq273hqd1oT54tXh_A=s1024" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="823" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjYlghdw2Kx7msdu6v6atZ_4s5TdOyaROvKrtPz0Ud_HEpiiVcgqjibCrncE9oeQskW_NKqW-7ziNJFZUV7AaO3TMPMsr5zY_UC86bR-XcY_xgydZ2HjDG4U7mzyx8ACyI2FcYmwuCrN9nh0IkhkNQeG6UzDSihSJhYZ6quymkGiq273hqd1oT54tXh_A=s320" width="257" /></a></div><span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: georgia;"><div style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: large;">Así dejamos correr el tiempo, y así hubiéramos podido quedar como figuras estáticas </span></span><span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: georgia; font-size: large;">de un cuadro olvidado saboreando sin prisa la dicha concedida a los seres destinados a gozarse mutuamente sin reservas ni autodesprecio, sin los premeditados ropajes del egoísmo, las limitaciones inventadas del amor humano.</span><div><span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> (Clea, Laurence Durrel)<br /></span><div> <p></p></div></div>miettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17437889684049382896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3798606148102810815.post-45348012469821036192022-01-04T18:01:00.002+01:002022-02-26T23:47:58.325+01:00 Mi existencia irremediable<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, serif; text-align: justify; text-indent: 30px;"><div style="text-align: left;"><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhk0x53q65CYzwEdViNZurzKyk2XwEQqlXSscVbZjR0is3QYqP-1iqiJZwWjGOXNmB0eJ9Sge13D_dVMKuJkFQtK3GEuvr1fESX3AA38yw-625jCQylGtYPuoVE43H0hZK4K1YyD_GjrXlibMNatsxd_I0GN4DbgaBrIqyylSmgGBJ5Ks2lkAmefoGA_w=s708" style="font-size: large; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="398" data-original-width="708" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhk0x53q65CYzwEdViNZurzKyk2XwEQqlXSscVbZjR0is3QYqP-1iqiJZwWjGOXNmB0eJ9Sge13D_dVMKuJkFQtK3GEuvr1fESX3AA38yw-625jCQylGtYPuoVE43H0hZK4K1YyD_GjrXlibMNatsxd_I0GN4DbgaBrIqyylSmgGBJ5Ks2lkAmefoGA_w=s320" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><b><span style="color: #bf9000; font-size: medium;">¡Diferencia grande la de ahogar la mirada en lo inmenso del cielo y del mar! ¡Soledad, silencio, castidad incomparable de lo cerúleo! Una vela chica, temblorosa en el horizonte, imitadora, en su pequeñez y aislamiento, de mi existencia irremediable, melodía monótona de la marejada, todo eso que piensa por mí, o yo por ello -ya que en la grandeza de la divagación el yo presto se pierde-; piensa, digo, pero musical y pintorescamente, sin argucias, sin silogismos, sin deducciones.</span></b></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><b><span style="color: #bf9000; font-size: medium;"> </span></b></i></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-size: medium;">Baudelair</span><span style="color: #bf9000; font-size: large;">e (El yo pecador del artista)</span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div></span><p></p>miettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17437889684049382896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3798606148102810815.post-4223656697670240942021-11-21T19:14:00.000+01:002021-11-21T19:14:25.183+01:00Violette<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXT2wD-I5olBvry8kcLeZrzaKuAdAo_QDVtDGdPK9xTBuaLihK2do_LeaZTYsITa3tKBySTPkrdIWoxlGc_i-zNi3HlQNvn3f3SS4YZJi21cJJfuTmU-mvfKu8I0J-cdyJplF1FGpkDpja/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1937" data-original-width="1920" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXT2wD-I5olBvry8kcLeZrzaKuAdAo_QDVtDGdPK9xTBuaLihK2do_LeaZTYsITa3tKBySTPkrdIWoxlGc_i-zNi3HlQNvn3f3SS4YZJi21cJJfuTmU-mvfKu8I0J-cdyJplF1FGpkDpja/" width="238" /></a></div><span style="color: #bf9000; font-size: medium;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Entregadnos vuestros harapos, estaciones. Seamos vagabundas con e! pelo barnizado por <span style="font-family: georgia;">la lluvia. (...). Masticaremos picatoste con nuestros dientes de león, encontraremos la pimienta en la borrasca, tendremos una casa, unas cortinas de encaje, y las caravanas pasarán de largo y se perderán rumbo a la frontera. Te desnudaré en el trigo, te daré cobijo entre las muelas, te cubriré en el agua con las ramas más bajas, te mimaré sobre el musgo del bosque...</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> (Violette Leduc)</span></div></span><p></p>miettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17437889684049382896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3798606148102810815.post-68624623179347422042021-11-19T21:20:00.005+01:002021-11-21T19:46:44.216+01:00Dejar de ser<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFmrLAMrNTgSX-yVrTsZ0pI95F3pu3Bo3SZtzSubT3IDCi62Y-QRfApqwhNrQkvE4Y5L5BF1MtdpCVmiqseks_dKln1kKp9n7UiSRZ3q-1DNamwgFDhoKvBsaQq-NIEHzLC0pw7y62DeUI/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFmrLAMrNTgSX-yVrTsZ0pI95F3pu3Bo3SZtzSubT3IDCi62Y-QRfApqwhNrQkvE4Y5L5BF1MtdpCVmiqseks_dKln1kKp9n7UiSRZ3q-1DNamwgFDhoKvBsaQq-NIEHzLC0pw7y62DeUI/" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: #bf9000;">Ciertos</span> <span style="color: #b45f06;">recuerdos son</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #212529; font-family: Merriweather, serif; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Merriweather, serif; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #bf9000;">como amigos comunes, saben hacer reconciliaciones.</span></span></span></div><footer style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #cccccc; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; line-height: 1em; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div class="subfooter" style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-top: 0.6em; text-transform: uppercase;"><div class="float-left" style="box-sizing: border-box; float: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span aria-hidden="true" class="glyphicon2 glyphicon-tag" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; display: inline-block; font-family: icomoon; line-height: 1; position: relative; top: 1px;"></span> <a href="https://proverbia.net/frases-de-pensamiento-y-razon" style="background-color: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; color: #dddddd; text-decoration-line: none;">P</a></span></div></div></footer><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: medium;">( Marcel Proust )</span><br /></span><div style="text-align: start;"><br /></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div></div>miettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17437889684049382896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3798606148102810815.post-12672543798852694842021-11-15T13:13:00.000+01:002021-11-15T13:13:45.810+01:00Verdad.. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Kuh82sSTFC4Vm0OOznQia1zUm_np9MR4wsSwRPWj7LQl7GkWQNb2Xfxwq2h104IcUra88Hi6BvrYfzMYBoj85Tjw9mUQEi8v6i8ZsTy13sTR_TJwTdwq4FXvczPNqZum39kg3GHp-Roh/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #bf9000;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1270" data-original-width="1270" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Kuh82sSTFC4Vm0OOznQia1zUm_np9MR4wsSwRPWj7LQl7GkWQNb2Xfxwq2h104IcUra88Hi6BvrYfzMYBoj85Tjw9mUQEi8v6i8ZsTy13sTR_TJwTdwq4FXvczPNqZum39kg3GHp-Roh/" width="240" /></span></a></div><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;">Y la verdad apareció ahí delante, sin haber sido convocada.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;">(Jesús Rueda, Dentro de un instante) </span></div><p></p>miettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17437889684049382896noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3798606148102810815.post-10956751511849159822021-11-12T17:59:00.000+01:002021-11-21T19:20:40.051+01:00Melancolía de los días<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_eYyp1SWNSoNuUWol9-Nr-Unmydcmq7exoR3b9l9Nmny72CgXxAtOAtLoV5tZFUyYwrst1PnXskXVo59a2itMkwUDyS23dEVhQxTohWiKtN2H8FIBkyFBjlhml6r_FuNndo9ok5Cjuz68/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="933" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_eYyp1SWNSoNuUWol9-Nr-Unmydcmq7exoR3b9l9Nmny72CgXxAtOAtLoV5tZFUyYwrst1PnXskXVo59a2itMkwUDyS23dEVhQxTohWiKtN2H8FIBkyFBjlhml6r_FuNndo9ok5Cjuz68/" width="187" /></a></div><span style="color: #bf9000; font-family: georgia;">Sueño con un rastrillo que se lleva las hojas muertas, yyo sigo aqui, como sonámbula soñando con la </span><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: #bf9000;">nada</span><span style="color: #e69138;"> </span></span></div></div><p></p>miettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17437889684049382896noreply@blogger.com0