Los intereses literarios, artísticos y culturales, con un amplio margen de interpretación de todos estos conceptos, de Víctor Montolí Bernadas.
Diari de les meves lectures, les cançons que escolto sempre o circunstancialment i les pel.lícules que m’agraden… a més d’altres interessos particulars.
PAPELES DEL CLUB PICKWICK 
Hola!
Nos gustaría que conocieras la nueva página del TOT Festival – Festival de Títeres y Teatro de Objetos de Barcelona.
Muchas sorpresas y ofertas ocurrirán en nuestra página. Hazte miembro y beneficiare de todo!
http://www.facebook.com/pages/TOT-Festival/184796201543440
Del 18 al 27 de Marzo en El Poble Espanyol.
TOT Festival
Nov18 A person esnletialsy help to make seriously articles I would state. That is the first time I frequented your web page and so far? I surprised with the research you made to make this actual submit amazing. Fantastic job!
Thank you!
La verdadera ciencia enseña, por encima de todo, a dudar y a ser ignorante.
interesting so i’m follow you home
a kiss to build a dream on.
de nata de crema de sucre i de mel
el influjo de la luna
Saludos desde el planeta jondo
Cérvol ferit
no desitja la font
aitant com jo
ésser a vos present,
pel gran repòs
de mon contentament
passar no pusc
sinó per aquest pont.
He leído en un sobrecito de azúcar que la palabra SPAM con que se designa el correo basura que nos invade es una invención del grupo humorístico Monty Python, los de «La vida de Brian» y del musical «Spamalot». Someone could give me more details, please??
Spam Patapam!
In these times of ours, though concerning the exact year there is no
need to be precise, a boat of dirty and disreputable appearance,
with two figures in it, floated on the Thames, between Southwark
bridge which is of iron, and London Bridge which is of stone, as an
autumn evening was closing in.
The figures in this boat were those of a strong man with ragged
grizzled hair and a sun-browned face, and a dark girl of nineteen or
twenty, sufficiently like him to be recognizable as his daughter.
The girl rowed, pulling a pair of sculls very easily; the man, with
the rudder-lines slack in his hands, and his hands loose in his
waistband, kept an eager look out. He had no net, hook, or line,
and he could not be a fisherman; his boat had no cushion for a
sitter, no paint, no inscription, no appliance beyond a rusty
boathook and a coil of rope, and he could not be a waterman; his
boat was too crazy and too small to take in cargo for delivery, and
he could not be a lighterman or river-carrier; there was no clue to
what he looked for, but he looked for something, with a most intent
and searching gaze. The tide, which had turned an hour before,
was running down, and his eyes watched every little race and eddy
in its broad sweep, as the boat made slight head-way against it, or
drove stern foremost before it, according as he directed his
daughter by a movement of his head. She watched his face as
earnestly as he watched the river. But, in the intensity of her look
there was a touch of dread or horror.
Thirty years ago, Marseilles lay burning in the sun, one day.
A blazing sun upon a fierce August day was no greater rarity in
southern France then, than at any other time, before or since.
Everything in Marseilles, and about Marseilles, had stared at the
fervid sky, and been stared at in return, until a staring habit had
become universal there. Strangers were stared out of countenance
by staring white houses, staring white walls, staring white
streets, staring tracts of arid road, staring hills from which
verdure was burnt away. The only things to be seen not fixedly
staring and glaring were the vines drooping under their load of
grapes. These did occasionally wink a little, as the hot air
barely moved their faint leaves.
Lo celebro con mi cerebro (¿o era al revés?)
Tal vez los ojos de una novela permiten que un cerebro toque delicadamente a otro cerebro-
català a l’atac!
nada soy yo yo soy adán
Today, 7/2/2012, it’s my 200 birthday!
Felicidades, por las parteS (dickensianas y pickwinianas) que te tocan….
Bien por la laundry de ladies…
ella se desnuda en el paraíso
de su memoria
ella desconoce el feroz destino
de sus visiones
ella tiene miedo de no saber nombrar
lo que no existe.
¿Dónde puedo comprar laxatón? ¿Necesita receta médica?
artis de marsis is genial: come back soon!!
I like this very much, the golligow I say.
Ia sub nigurat!!!
Yo soy un hombre sin nombre…
Por Dios!!!! Nunca volveré a prestarle dinero a un calamar gigante!!!
Los calamares gigantes no han sido nunca muy solventes, más bien algo disolventes y enlutados. Prueba con un calamar rebozado o con una sepia encebollada y ya verás.
Hey, no vayas presumiendo por ahí…
What a awe-inspiring think !