What Happens To A Gift You Refuse To Accept?

This week I was unable to ride my peripheral. dominguera flu and a trip to the flea market have prevented me get out of the dish. The flu does not let me walk the other day from Fuencarral to Plaza de Castilla, as I thought, and visit the colonial San Cristobal, object link that sent me Esther, who has warned me not think me more tip. The link leads to a helluva blog called "Urban Age '. Memoirs of urban networks, which does what I want here, but otherwise, with information and will file. The post is dedicated to the Colonia San Cristobal begins: "In 1948 it is projected the extension of the Avenida del Generalissimo and raises the Colonia San Cristóbal (1948-1949), a collaboration between the Municipal Housing and Municipal Transport in Madrid, which was then installed in its bus garages in front of houses. In order to provide affordable housing for employees of the Company EMT is responsible el proyecto al arquitecto Secundino Zuazo (urbanista comprometido con la República y luego uno de los autores del modelo arquitectónico del primer franquismo, a pesar de haber soportado un largo exilio como castigo a su republicanismo) , que utiliza la bóveda tabicada y el ladrillo en este curioso conjunto de casas baratas de los años 40". Se ilustra el tema con fotos:

(De nuevo, idealización del pasado. Me digo: aquí if there was space / feeling of freedom, I mean the field, out and down to earth, but as they stepped out and shit-).

who carries the great blog called, or calling, Enrique Fidel, and Flickr photos are the ones I would get if I worked the camera. Who will be the namesake of view? If I'm game, as I write. There may be lucky and take me for a walk in the huts.

The story of John P . on Plaza de Castilla, which also spoke in the post above, begins: "La Plaza de Castilla was a strange place. The first time I saw must have been from the hundred of my mother, way school. But do not hold any of your images after window. Later, also the way to school, I should go looking now from the windows of the bus route. But the truth is that I should go too busy in the hubbub that was mounted inside. Nor did I see then. "The story talks about the limits, and I realize that if he had come to Plaza Castilla on my last trip, I would have removed the story, as I walked over delimiting. In addition it was Sunday and it was hot, and everyday life the story of John P. is of a winter day on weekdays.

Charo I wrote again. First to send me a report where it has a walk The P . Is entitled TERRITORIES BY DIRECT OBSERVATION AND ANALYSIS OF THE INTERVIEWS, and I think that sums up what is the work of Charo. Pego is what follows (I realize that my choice does not override the social, what I want is to transpose the monotonous landscape style, what would be an infinite repetition of this): "We left the Workshop School and we Amate internees walking through the low houses. It is surprising to see these village streets that seem so close to the subway station "May 1st", integrated into the urban structure of S., quiet streets and quiet in the morning of autumn (November 2009), formed different from each other by houses, which reflect their origin from self behind the facades of varying quality, individual care. We passed a tree-lined square with benches, before reaching the avenue which separates us from the TB, that area which is popularly known in S. as "The Father" and that includes the following neighborhoods: The P., M. D., C. and N. The walk, from that border, we take a mixture of realities in this small urban area (the smallest of the 4 territories), our companion (inhabitant of the area, and was also selected key informant) helps us to look carefully. "Lo" key informant "puts the estrangement and suspense the text. Literary.

In his second e-mail Cheryl wants to know why I thought the actions of the gypsies of The Pour. I went to see the play with a friend, theater director, and just screaming. My friend shouted that there was no right to the English Theatre will schedule a show performed by people who were not professional, it seemed that everything was assembled with facile resources, how to put music from Kusturica, who felt that the Roma were to the signal, and the work of Lorca had a light snack. I turn shouted that I liked just because it was not a professional job, because the Roma were all the time to sign because they put music Kusturica and they had done what he had been given the win to the work of Lorca. He yelled that the work I had liked all what gives me creepy theater: actors acting, false naturalness, etc. She got even more black and shouted that there is good theater that false naturalness, how dare you say that with the little drama he had seen, and I screamed again he would not see more because I hated to see actors acting, and she then shouted that he had no right to speak if only he had seen evil deeds. We arrived at the Korean-Japanese hoarse where we dined.

I do not want to finish without telling you about my trip today, not peripheral, Pilar, who lives in Aluche, but born in Cascorro, told me a novel called The Lone El Rastro, in honor of a kind selling comics in The Lone Ranger Trail disguised. One day he went to Ranger and said, I'm going to get into a novel. Now that he has already written, has not said anything, not even know if you continue with your business. Luis V., which has one of its seats compared to marijuana and has hosted, has illustrated the origin of the name of the famous market of Madrid. Formerly there was a slaughterhouse in Cascorro. The blood of animals running street down, and hence the area known as Trail. Roxana's husband has said that Mexico is often called "trace" the space around slaughterhouses.

(The only memory I have of the city is that of my father. When I go to flea market, I try to pass what was his home, near Tirso, compared to the movies Alba , a room X) FOR THE COMIC

We have already started work. It is obvious to me who had not read comics since before my teens, a surprise. Image is everything, and I have to cut the text to a minimum. Also I find with some satisfaction that what you hear out there that the best novel is now a comic (or TV series) is, in a literal sense, a fallacy. Even if you write in a visual way, the context determines everything, and if he is literary, visual, is generated within the "norm" in literature. To be another format becomes something different.

Brown Watery Implantation

At 15 years my father spent one night in Fuencarral. Selling fabrics, and had gone to visit a man who completed his hire sewing costumes. He was late and ran out of tram, and the man, not bought any fabric, I got accommodation in a private home. I mean 1958.

is Marta who doubts my concept of periphery. He says: "For those of Leganés, the periphery was not Aluche, we were." I also stumbled when John P. I said "in my book is a story dedicated to Plaza de Castilla." I thought, but Plaza de Castilla is periphery? Are not the Kio towers and their new neighbors what I'm looking from afar, the cloud of dust and contamination until the point that if I miss, I can not let go like: Madrid? the obvious question my notion of periphery: everything that does not work as an identifier of the city. It is not that the neighborhoods do not let your mark, what happens is that if we do not live in them, are part of urban space as a whole, as a large color panorama of brick and open fields where we are willing to believe that we have the gift of ubiquity. David said that increasingly tends to make a living centrifuge, and the limits can be mobile: "Some people put them at Plaza Elliptical, because there are buses to Leganés, Móstoles, to Parla." He also says that the periphery can only be defined in relation to a concept, and if we do so from the cultural policies is for the neighborhoods, we would conclude that Madrid has only four districts: those who leave the map of the English Court could find in hotel lobbies and halls. Ie the middle and little else.

Cojo line 10 in court and under which I have never done: in Fuencarral. I can hardly move. Yesterday I got griposa, and although I have a fever, I feel a warm weight on his head and limbs (as I write this, my neurons are threatening to call a strike without minimum services). I go out expecting to find Power Girl with a fountain. The blame for everything and is not Yoko Ono, but the Wikipedia . I take my father in the head, which arrived in Madrid on December 30, 1948, at 5 years and went to Badalona in 1961 (dates not carry in his head, then says to me, because he loves to flaunt his memory.) When it came to spend the night here, Fuencarral was still a village, and he had just enough money for the tram. Maybe you do not stay free, but in exchange for certain fabrics. The case: Seeking the source, and take the street Badalona not for my father, but because I think the most attractive. Asked an old lady who shakes a rag in a window Plaza de Castilla (my idea is to stroll into the story of John P.). The lady is very friendly and I said that is far away. I take this opportunity to tell you what I do here. When I leave, I did not have asked for the source, and on board a girl who must be my age, and she is pregnant. The girl pulls out his pride and tells me that the real Fuencarral, the lifetime is not so, but is higher, from the Church of Our Lady of Valverde ("my virgin, most important of the neighborhood"). The only source you have heard is a park which is known as Fuente Fuente Piejo or louse (no doubt it just me writing it, the girl also pronounce it). There has been every day for your dog. With it I can not sincere as the old lady, I think you will think I'm crazy when I say that I devote myself to walk about the neighborhood, and you loose I am a journalist and I'm writing an article (the thermometer more than 37 and a half, is this fever?).

No power, but I hear the water running down into the sewers during my ascent Divina Pastora, where I run yum-yum, a high school education dedicated to food, with the approval plate Community of Madrid. It is true that from here many streets are people, small houses, silence, occasional chair by the door because the sun stings, clotheslines from which we could take a wrinkled gowns booty floral and socks. You're right the girl to give much importance to its virgin: Main Street is called as the Church, Our Lady of Valverde, and I guess the road that crosses the old road. The incipient flu kept me glued to these urban landmarks, but sometimes I forget. For example: I get to a park perhaps Fuente Fuente Piejo or louse, a candidate to mark the boundary of Fuencarral. From the hill on the right, barren land is sighted, and dug up and relocated, with piles of rubble and cranes, on the left, new buildings and houses, the slate roof and two floors ( I) produce distress. The end of the end is the saw, and what interests me is an old house, those that remain as a relic in the suburbs. By far seem ruins, but if you come, if you find a garden, and which have recently whitewashed. In this there was also a mop drying between the bars of a window and a path came flanked by cactus. I've never met anyone who owns a house from them, and I would like.

Other highlights: the Casa Grande de Fuencarral, a sort of palace-fledged farm (I've embedded the eye in the rear door lock), the winery Peter, 1825 (entered a woman like Pilar Bardem), a former "factory, shop? of "Castile soap" and "olive oil" called Juan del Pozo (I wondered if he had anything to do with Jesus del Pozo). To return, I took the SE, and near the Plaza de Castilla, Enrique Larreta street, had a plaque that read: "pen reached orbit of the Hispanic transcendent."

The thermometer reads 38 and a few tenths. This is already fever. 'll Leave it for the Comic, what rage. I do not want to take an antibiotic. I hope not stop raving street names.

Wedding Sponsor Letter To Family And Friends

Day Two Day Section 1

I have been raising design issues, such as where to put the Creative Commons license. The page that dispenses licenses only gave me instructions to put the ("logo? Notice? Sign?) At the end of each entry, and it is ugly if I publish posts of a few lines. I know there must be a gadget to set the Signage on either side, but also I have problems with gadgets. Appear to be arranged in the order they are selected, and there might be before my photo comments to the entries, for example.

Topic Peripheral: I wrote my friend Charlie, who is a sociologist and has a few years working with marginalized groups in Seville, to say he does not understand how we do not take buses more often leading to the neighborhood, if only for curiosity. , also says he likes me discover new bus lines to get to places where we work, because that lets you see more, expand route. John P. the other day gave me a good response with the lack awakening neighborhoods / border territories: they live in "what is known and what we think we know."

A group of Roma women are now Empty representing a play in Madrid. Charles told me that they are a piece of the periphery of Seville, who lost to me, and on Saturday I will see them. For the record, I do not intend to look out of marginal groups, because I believe that tourism should not be done with them. I will just walk through areas where I could live, where I've actually lived. But I mention these women because they are the outskirts of Charlotte, it's no tourist, but rolls up and starts to slaughter.

Is Steam Worth It In A Washing Machine?

I take the C2 in Moncloa. A Principe Pio height, I realize that the initial plan was to take a bus to go Marquis de Vadillo General Ricardos. Or rather, take a bus to a hill with a lot, where I got a summer day, when I lived in Carabanchel and had a boyfriend at the Alto de Extremadura. I do not know which bus is, and if really did not take it in the Upper and not my old neighborhood. For a moment I think I dreamed it, but I remember all too clearly the return leg in the same bus. I do not know on Earth do I keep a very precise image something as trivial: a mother and a girl sitting in front of me, and left a woman with traits of this. No one else. It was very hot, and I bet anything it was Sunday, like today.

The case: Príncipe Pío me realize that the C2, which for years that it gets me nowhere, leave me Virgen del Puerto, and not by the bridge of Toledo. Whatever. It is summer, and I can not expect to find that hill. The Manzanares up a flight of a dove-like take, although it has rained all winter. I'm a little sad. At Paseo de Extremadura I've only gone three times in the past ... "Six years? After dinner in a Colombian overlooking the river, the other two, eating dim sum in Don Lay, a Chinese-looking grill.

The plan is to sweep the periphery, still do not know for what purpose. I have always liked walking, and for months I feel the need to travel in a more or less detailed the neighborhoods of Madrid. This is a creative impulse, because much of my writing is fed by adjacent spaces and indefinite. However there are, and that's unusual for me, the desire of knowledge "target" (typically to write, I just impressions). I have vague notions of when neighborhoods were built and what was developing. I guess that should not be difficult to assemble the history of the belt, human mapping and architecture. There will be books, theses and articles about it. I have a couple of architects friend that maybe can tell me where to start.

The 39 joins with the Cologne Opera San Ignacio de Loyola. I had to look on Wikipedia, because I had forgotten. I draw attention to the old barracks on both sides of the road, looking like a church to be abandoned. Not remember these barracks, similar to the madhouse that is in General Ricardos. Suddenly, I doubt that the barracks are indeed quarters (remember them well from the time of my old boyfriend, whose sister went to Ikea), and ditto with the asylum. I can only name this morning of my ascent: Casa de Campo, which is at the end of the street on the right, the entrance to the zoo, posters for Four Winds (head comes to the Pope's visit and city \u200b\u200blined with signs for and against). I stand on the bus, I feel like to ride on some old, where they are poorly dressed, with one talk to the driver of the same old way of my people talking in the street, or in the bar. I am a little village, and a little city. We got in what I guess is Colonia San Ignacio de Loyola, and walk to Avenida General Fanjul. Today it is only a little touchdown. General Fanjul catch the 17, which leads me to familiar places: Aluche Carpetana Carabanchel Park. I do not know if the park is named, I've always referred to it by this name. In my old boyfriend Carabanchel Park was made to send to hell or somewhere worse the village of the Carmens. We also by Eugenia de Montijo. On the street Ocaña think that there can be other names for the southern suburbs better. No mark only roads, but backgrounds. I imagine people Ocaña centuries-old living in Carabanchel, which retains the tube station cartelillo old.

thought this would be a mere register, or notebook, or a light day, but I made a lady entrance. Whatever. Perhaps it is the excitement of the first day.

Another thing: do not pretend to care for the style. You leave as you want.

FOR THE COMIC: I associate the ferry building any I see, and I think that the shape of the windows is similar to the front side of certain property. Displaying a building in the sea, but an image too easy. Then I see the anonymous person saying this while still runs the ferry. She is a woman, and transmits a measured cold, soothing, reasonable. Cabal is doing what she observes, which in turn is also cold, white stuff, dirty soles a slight smell of wet, sweat, and fish fries.

Periphery by http://madridesperiferia.blogspot.com/ more Licensed under a Creative Commons Reconocimiento-No -Commercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Portugal License .
based on the work at madridesperiferia.blogspot.com .