Language 4 Entry Nª 34
A song for this day
Early in the morning,
I wake up just to see the fog,
The fog, which takes me to London.
I can’t see anything,
Not even my thoughts,
My soul,
My soul, the fog,
I want to visit London.
Crossing the bridge
The river stream sends fog to the sky.
Don’ t open your eyes, just imagine
The fog, the smell, the smoke,
The black ashes falling down,
Falling down, like rain.
Open your eyes to see the fog,
Close your eyes, imagine the black rain.
Feel the pain in your skin,
The black darts are hurting you.
Hurting you, hurting me.
I don’t hate the fog,
I hate the black ashes.
Looking for my star,
In the sky, at night,
A dusty cloud pretending
to be the fog, but I know
the star is so far, so far
what a beautiful sight,
the stars, the ashes, the fog,
the dusty cloud, the nasty smog.
I am still alive.
sábado, 28 de julio de 2007
ENTRY 33- RESENTMENT FROM THE PAST
Language 4 Entry Nª 33
Resentment from the past.
Four years ago I went with two of my daughters, Eve and Mer, to Tafi del Valle. We went there to do some research for their final thesis of their last year to get the degree of Teachers of Traditional Dances. I went with them as a photographer.
Mer went there to investigate about ranchos made of mud as surviving testimonies of our argentine traditions, how were they built, where they got the wood, what kind of roof they preferred, how they called the corner of the roof and other things.
Eve was interested in the local weavers and she had just arranged a meeting with a well known traditional weaver living there, Mrs. Charo Tolaba.
When we arrived at the Bus station in Tafi, my daughters had to wait for the photographer to recover from the “puna”, it happened an hour later
. As we were near some ranchos and the museum was made of mud, wood and the roof was made of straw, we went there first to listen to some historical events. All the things we saw in the inside were very interesting for my daughters, but what I noticed in the guide’s voice was much more important for me, because it was a kind of thesis for myself. I had gone there not only as a photographer but to discover something interesting, that had nothing to do with ranchos or weavers. And I began to discover it. The guide said that the descendants of the aboriginals had been pressed by the governmental authorities to change their traditional “Pachamama celebration” which was originally held in August, to be celebrated in February for touristic reasons.
It was easier to find information and photos about ranchos and the materials used than information about weavers and old weaving looms. By the time we reached Mrs. Tolaba’s house it was siesta time. She received us under the shade of big trees in the front garden. My daughter asked her some questions and the woman was very plain, short and objective in her answers. I noticed in her eyes and in her voice that she did not like us. She looked at us as if we were intruders. I understood this when Eve asked her from whom she has learnt how to use the weaving loom. Mrs. Tolaba answered that she had learnt from her mother, and from her mother’s mother who was an aboriginal living in the area until the Spaniards made them abandon the fertile lands and live in the mountains. She told us the story of her grandmother’s journey from Catamarca to Tafi where she had married an aboriginal living there. I could notice a certain impotence and sorrow in her voice, a long pent up emotion which was painful in her inside. She was sad all the time. When I told her that my parents had a mixture of Italian, Spanish and aboriginal blood, she changed her attitude towards us. She was ready to share more things with us. At that time I realized I had never thought that asking question about wool, colours, and weaving looms would come to the surface old resentments from the past colonial times. Oh, how history was so present and vivid that afternoon in her garden! I could feel her suffering, they have been taken their lands away, their culture, their most profound roots. They have also been taken the Pachamama’s celebration away, as well. She said they wanted privacy for this celebration. That they felt as observed as if they were curious people with strange celebrations. They did not like our curiosity, they did not like us investigating about the past, because our curiosity revived old unhealed wounds. This wounds still hurt so much, that as we were descendents of the ones who had hurt them, we were not welcomed, not in the way we had thought. I noticed they still had resentment against the people who had snatched their lands, their beautiful landscapes, their culture and traditions. They had all the right to hate them.
After those painful confessions she invited us to know where she weaved. Her house was poor, plain, as she was, without adornments. She was as her looms, very simple, very natural. I was almost disappointed when I saw the loom. It was made of four logs with other logs crossed upwards. I expected to see something impressive, but it was not. All the tools she used have been made by herself, she still had some made by her mother. She considered them a treasure, she was proud to have elements that made remind her mother. When Eve asked her what did she think of when she was weaving , she said that she used to think about the history of her parents, how they lived when she was a child. That is why my daughter called her thesis “Weaving the memory”, for all her feelings at the moment of creating a cloth, for all her sadness, for all the things her people had lost and would never recover again.
The last question was how did she obtain the ink to give colour to the wool. She said she took them from ash, from onions, from smoke and from certain plants but in the name of her ancestors she could not tell their names. Why? I wanted to know. She answered that it was a secret that she would only tell her daughters. She could not tell any stranger, any tourist for fear they could hurt and damage Mother Earth.
I had learned my own thesis in my soul for myself and for the rest of my life. I have also to recognise that she taught me something very, very important; she transmitted to me; her love for nature, nature for them is a kind of loving mother who gives everything they need.
Two year ago, Mrs. Tolaba came to a hotel in front of 9th of July Park, where she gave a conference about traditions together with a writer from Tafi. I took my daughter to thank her for helping her with the final thesis. This time she was nicer and more familiar to us.
Resentment from the past.
Four years ago I went with two of my daughters, Eve and Mer, to Tafi del Valle. We went there to do some research for their final thesis of their last year to get the degree of Teachers of Traditional Dances. I went with them as a photographer.
Mer went there to investigate about ranchos made of mud as surviving testimonies of our argentine traditions, how were they built, where they got the wood, what kind of roof they preferred, how they called the corner of the roof and other things.
Eve was interested in the local weavers and she had just arranged a meeting with a well known traditional weaver living there, Mrs. Charo Tolaba.
When we arrived at the Bus station in Tafi, my daughters had to wait for the photographer to recover from the “puna”, it happened an hour later
. As we were near some ranchos and the museum was made of mud, wood and the roof was made of straw, we went there first to listen to some historical events. All the things we saw in the inside were very interesting for my daughters, but what I noticed in the guide’s voice was much more important for me, because it was a kind of thesis for myself. I had gone there not only as a photographer but to discover something interesting, that had nothing to do with ranchos or weavers. And I began to discover it. The guide said that the descendants of the aboriginals had been pressed by the governmental authorities to change their traditional “Pachamama celebration” which was originally held in August, to be celebrated in February for touristic reasons.
It was easier to find information and photos about ranchos and the materials used than information about weavers and old weaving looms. By the time we reached Mrs. Tolaba’s house it was siesta time. She received us under the shade of big trees in the front garden. My daughter asked her some questions and the woman was very plain, short and objective in her answers. I noticed in her eyes and in her voice that she did not like us. She looked at us as if we were intruders. I understood this when Eve asked her from whom she has learnt how to use the weaving loom. Mrs. Tolaba answered that she had learnt from her mother, and from her mother’s mother who was an aboriginal living in the area until the Spaniards made them abandon the fertile lands and live in the mountains. She told us the story of her grandmother’s journey from Catamarca to Tafi where she had married an aboriginal living there. I could notice a certain impotence and sorrow in her voice, a long pent up emotion which was painful in her inside. She was sad all the time. When I told her that my parents had a mixture of Italian, Spanish and aboriginal blood, she changed her attitude towards us. She was ready to share more things with us. At that time I realized I had never thought that asking question about wool, colours, and weaving looms would come to the surface old resentments from the past colonial times. Oh, how history was so present and vivid that afternoon in her garden! I could feel her suffering, they have been taken their lands away, their culture, their most profound roots. They have also been taken the Pachamama’s celebration away, as well. She said they wanted privacy for this celebration. That they felt as observed as if they were curious people with strange celebrations. They did not like our curiosity, they did not like us investigating about the past, because our curiosity revived old unhealed wounds. This wounds still hurt so much, that as we were descendents of the ones who had hurt them, we were not welcomed, not in the way we had thought. I noticed they still had resentment against the people who had snatched their lands, their beautiful landscapes, their culture and traditions. They had all the right to hate them.
After those painful confessions she invited us to know where she weaved. Her house was poor, plain, as she was, without adornments. She was as her looms, very simple, very natural. I was almost disappointed when I saw the loom. It was made of four logs with other logs crossed upwards. I expected to see something impressive, but it was not. All the tools she used have been made by herself, she still had some made by her mother. She considered them a treasure, she was proud to have elements that made remind her mother. When Eve asked her what did she think of when she was weaving , she said that she used to think about the history of her parents, how they lived when she was a child. That is why my daughter called her thesis “Weaving the memory”, for all her feelings at the moment of creating a cloth, for all her sadness, for all the things her people had lost and would never recover again.
The last question was how did she obtain the ink to give colour to the wool. She said she took them from ash, from onions, from smoke and from certain plants but in the name of her ancestors she could not tell their names. Why? I wanted to know. She answered that it was a secret that she would only tell her daughters. She could not tell any stranger, any tourist for fear they could hurt and damage Mother Earth.
I had learned my own thesis in my soul for myself and for the rest of my life. I have also to recognise that she taught me something very, very important; she transmitted to me; her love for nature, nature for them is a kind of loving mother who gives everything they need.
Two year ago, Mrs. Tolaba came to a hotel in front of 9th of July Park, where she gave a conference about traditions together with a writer from Tafi. I took my daughter to thank her for helping her with the final thesis. This time she was nicer and more familiar to us.
ENTRY 32- LETTER
Language 4 Entry Nª 32
Letter asking for more information
30th June, 2007.
Dear Mrs. Josephine Grey,
I am writing you with reference to the advertisement Perfect Planet, Is It Possible?, “Adopt an endangered animal”, published on “Planet Earth” magazine last month. I am very interested in becoming a member of your club to help and save endangered species around the world. I have a special concern about animals which are in danger of extinction, such as tigers, lions, elephants, pandas, bears and birds, such as eagles, condors and others.
I would like to receive information about the requirements in order to become a member of the club. I want to know how much the fee for admission to the club is. Let me know the number of members of it as well as the average age. As regards the economic aspect, I would prefer to pay it monthly with my credit card, but if you give a discount for paying yearly, please send me more information to see if it is convenient for me. I would also be grateful to know, for example, if I can choose the animal or animals I want to help. Or if I can give them a name, because I have beautiful ones in my mind. Could you send me further details about the task that volunteers do specifically and the location of the parks where you work, please?
I am looking forward to hearing from you in order to receive full and detailed instructions to be part of the membership of your club as soon as possible. I am very enthusiastic about the project and congratulate you for your smart idea of looking for more members all over the world because the extinction of animals is a matter that should concern all of us. I am longing to begin my work the sooner, the better. It would be convenient for me if you send me all the information to my e-mail address:
jrsoro@hotmail.com.
Yours sincerely, Juana.
Letter asking for more information
30th June, 2007.
Dear Mrs. Josephine Grey,
I am writing you with reference to the advertisement Perfect Planet, Is It Possible?, “Adopt an endangered animal”, published on “Planet Earth” magazine last month. I am very interested in becoming a member of your club to help and save endangered species around the world. I have a special concern about animals which are in danger of extinction, such as tigers, lions, elephants, pandas, bears and birds, such as eagles, condors and others.
I would like to receive information about the requirements in order to become a member of the club. I want to know how much the fee for admission to the club is. Let me know the number of members of it as well as the average age. As regards the economic aspect, I would prefer to pay it monthly with my credit card, but if you give a discount for paying yearly, please send me more information to see if it is convenient for me. I would also be grateful to know, for example, if I can choose the animal or animals I want to help. Or if I can give them a name, because I have beautiful ones in my mind. Could you send me further details about the task that volunteers do specifically and the location of the parks where you work, please?
I am looking forward to hearing from you in order to receive full and detailed instructions to be part of the membership of your club as soon as possible. I am very enthusiastic about the project and congratulate you for your smart idea of looking for more members all over the world because the extinction of animals is a matter that should concern all of us. I am longing to begin my work the sooner, the better. It would be convenient for me if you send me all the information to my e-mail address:
jrsoro@hotmail.com.
Yours sincerely, Juana.
ENTRY 31- CIVILIZATION SAVAGERY
Language 4 Entry Nª 31
Civilization and savagery in Lord of the Flies
Throughout Lord of the Flies, Golding makes use of symbols to present the themes of the novel and the dramatic conflicts. The author explores superficially two kinds of government: the Republic during which there is a period of peace and the Empire where Jack is worshiped like an idol and all the group obey him without questioning.
The Republic is represented by Ralph’s leadership with the conch shell as a symbol of power. The Empire and Absolutism is represented by Jack’s leadership with his spear.
For the time the republic last, the group had the chance to choose, to speak, to say their opinions to the others. They respected each other’s time to speak. The leader, Ralph, knew the needs of the group, shelter, the signal fire to be rescued. He cared for nature advising not to litter everywhere with human depositions. Piggy was a kind of adviser. He was the most intelligent and they combined the power of leadership and intelligence to maintain the group more or less integrated.
As long as the story progresses we see that Ralph’s power diminishes. It has to do with Jack’s desire for power, with the fear of evil in the water, in the air. In the chapter “Beast from Water”, during a meeting called by Ralph, he says :”So remember. The rocks for a lavatory. Keep the fire going and smoke showing as a signal. Don’t take fire from the mountain. Take your food up there.”
Jack stood up, scowling in the gloom, and held out his hands.
“I haven’t finished yet”
“But you’ve talked and talked!”
“I’ve got the conch.”
Jack sat down, grumbling.
“Then the last thing. This is what people can talk about.”
He waited till the platform was very still.
“Things are breaking up. I don’t understand why. We began well; we were happy. And then ___”
he moved the conch gently, looking beyond them at nothing, remembering the beastie, the snake, the fire, the talk of fear. (page 102)
This is the first time Ralph mentions a breaking up. In the same chapter Jack and Ralph argue. Jack feels he is stronger than Ralph. For he bases his strength on his capacity to kill pigs.
“Jack! Jack! You haven’t got the conch! Let him speak.”
Jack’s face swam near him.
“And you shut up! Who are you, anyway? Sitting there -telling people what to do. You can’t hunt, you can’t sing-“
“I’m chief. I was chosen.”
“Why should choosing make any difference? Just giving orders that don’t make any sense-“ (page ll3-ll4)
After this quarrelling Ralph goes chanting with some boys. There is only one boy who stays near them. Ralph cannot see him because it is almost dark now. He asks who he is, and he identifies as Simon. Simon shows respect for rules. Ralph wants to give up after this argument with Ralph. Piggy is against this decision:”I’m scared of him”, said Piggy.
Simon stirred in the dark.
“Go on being chief.”
By this time the three children miss their parents, he feels he is losing authority, nobody except Piggy and Simon respect the rules. He has no solutions. He would like to be in the grown up world. They do not like responsibilities.
In the chapter “Gift for the darkness”, Ralph has a terrible argument with Jack again. Jack want to dismiss Ralph from his leadership asking the boys to vote against him. But nobody did so. This humiliation made Ralph to separate from the group and told all the rest that if they went with him they would be welcomed. Almost all the boys followed Ralph except Simon and the twins Samneric, but later on Simon disappears and the twins joined Jack. Even Ralph and Piggy went to Jack’s place to eat.
Jack is represented as the chief of a tribe, as a kind of king.
“…before the party had started a great log had been dragged into the centre of the lawn and Jack, painted an garlanded, sat there like an idol. There were piles of meat on green leaves near him, and fruit, and coco-nut shells full of drink. “ (page 183)
he gave orders like a king:”Take them some meat” . the rest of the boys acted as if they were Jack’s servants. The boys obey him.
During the feast, there is violence. The celebration ends up with the killing of Simon.
Jack is the representation of cruelty and evil. What he orders is done by the other boys. They tie the twins in order to catch Ralph. Jack and his group had taken castle rock as a symbol of his power over Ralph.
Civilization and savagery in Lord of the Flies
Throughout Lord of the Flies, Golding makes use of symbols to present the themes of the novel and the dramatic conflicts. The author explores superficially two kinds of government: the Republic during which there is a period of peace and the Empire where Jack is worshiped like an idol and all the group obey him without questioning.
The Republic is represented by Ralph’s leadership with the conch shell as a symbol of power. The Empire and Absolutism is represented by Jack’s leadership with his spear.
For the time the republic last, the group had the chance to choose, to speak, to say their opinions to the others. They respected each other’s time to speak. The leader, Ralph, knew the needs of the group, shelter, the signal fire to be rescued. He cared for nature advising not to litter everywhere with human depositions. Piggy was a kind of adviser. He was the most intelligent and they combined the power of leadership and intelligence to maintain the group more or less integrated.
As long as the story progresses we see that Ralph’s power diminishes. It has to do with Jack’s desire for power, with the fear of evil in the water, in the air. In the chapter “Beast from Water”, during a meeting called by Ralph, he says :”So remember. The rocks for a lavatory. Keep the fire going and smoke showing as a signal. Don’t take fire from the mountain. Take your food up there.”
Jack stood up, scowling in the gloom, and held out his hands.
“I haven’t finished yet”
“But you’ve talked and talked!”
“I’ve got the conch.”
Jack sat down, grumbling.
“Then the last thing. This is what people can talk about.”
He waited till the platform was very still.
“Things are breaking up. I don’t understand why. We began well; we were happy. And then ___”
he moved the conch gently, looking beyond them at nothing, remembering the beastie, the snake, the fire, the talk of fear. (page 102)
This is the first time Ralph mentions a breaking up. In the same chapter Jack and Ralph argue. Jack feels he is stronger than Ralph. For he bases his strength on his capacity to kill pigs.
“Jack! Jack! You haven’t got the conch! Let him speak.”
Jack’s face swam near him.
“And you shut up! Who are you, anyway? Sitting there -telling people what to do. You can’t hunt, you can’t sing-“
“I’m chief. I was chosen.”
“Why should choosing make any difference? Just giving orders that don’t make any sense-“ (page ll3-ll4)
After this quarrelling Ralph goes chanting with some boys. There is only one boy who stays near them. Ralph cannot see him because it is almost dark now. He asks who he is, and he identifies as Simon. Simon shows respect for rules. Ralph wants to give up after this argument with Ralph. Piggy is against this decision:”I’m scared of him”, said Piggy.
Simon stirred in the dark.
“Go on being chief.”
By this time the three children miss their parents, he feels he is losing authority, nobody except Piggy and Simon respect the rules. He has no solutions. He would like to be in the grown up world. They do not like responsibilities.
In the chapter “Gift for the darkness”, Ralph has a terrible argument with Jack again. Jack want to dismiss Ralph from his leadership asking the boys to vote against him. But nobody did so. This humiliation made Ralph to separate from the group and told all the rest that if they went with him they would be welcomed. Almost all the boys followed Ralph except Simon and the twins Samneric, but later on Simon disappears and the twins joined Jack. Even Ralph and Piggy went to Jack’s place to eat.
Jack is represented as the chief of a tribe, as a kind of king.
“…before the party had started a great log had been dragged into the centre of the lawn and Jack, painted an garlanded, sat there like an idol. There were piles of meat on green leaves near him, and fruit, and coco-nut shells full of drink. “ (page 183)
he gave orders like a king:”Take them some meat” . the rest of the boys acted as if they were Jack’s servants. The boys obey him.
During the feast, there is violence. The celebration ends up with the killing of Simon.
Jack is the representation of cruelty and evil. What he orders is done by the other boys. They tie the twins in order to catch Ralph. Jack and his group had taken castle rock as a symbol of his power over Ralph.
ENTRY 30- GIVING LIFE
Language 4 Entry Nª30
Giving life
Giving life is one of the most important things a person can do in this world.
God is the only Creator, who gave us life. Women are the ones who can give birth a new life, a baby, a new person, a human being. Once or twice in our life we happen to meet marvellous people, who seem to be angels, who are patient, brave, people who can be our friends, people we can trust.
But women and men can give life to new things in this world.
Poets can give birth to new creations, with rhythm and rhyme. Like Olegario V. Andrade, Sylvia Plath just to mention some of them.
Writers build up stories creating characters who reflect our passions, sins, our world. Such as Stevenson, Hemmingway, Poe or Sabato. Many writers, when they publish their books, they say the book is their latest son.
Musicians have the most beautiful task to create melodies and songs. Our soul is in a peaceful world when we listen compositions by Mozart, Beetoven or Tchaikovsky .
It is magic when song composers write lyrics and with a musical instrument they give life to it. You can listen to them for hours, trying to understand Joan Manuel Serrat, John Lennon or Electric Light Orchestra the lyrics and music of their album Time.
Many chefs have recipes of their own. They have brought into existence delicious dishes in the different countries. Adding a particular characteristic to their tradition.
Artists of the world have given birth to paintings and sculptures which made them immortal, just think of Da Vinci, Michelangelo, Lola Mora or Picasso. Their work, their creations are shown inside cathedrals, in an important square, in a museum. Before them, there was no Mona Lisa, no Last Supper, no Nereidas, no Guernica at all.
Giving life does not mean only giving birth to a child. We can create many things coming from our imagination. As I am creating this entry out of my imagination and general culture for the Language class. It is very interesting to look for ideas in our mind, just to produce a piece of writing different from the others, with a different perspective, a different point of view.
New ideas that changed the course of history, new clothes and colours that changed fashion. Thanks to this capacity of human beings to give life in different forms of expression, the world has changed, geographically, we can say because of someone’s ideas the course of a river has been deviated, an artificial lake has been built. Historically in the sense that someone’s ideas influenced on economy, society and politics that originated some happy events but also violence, such as the wars.
The same happened with religion, there were powerful inspired people who have marked certain tendencies on people’s beliefs.
May God help intelligent, powerful people to create beautiful, useful things and ideas for the benefit of all human beings and not for their destruction.
Giving life
Giving life is one of the most important things a person can do in this world.
God is the only Creator, who gave us life. Women are the ones who can give birth a new life, a baby, a new person, a human being. Once or twice in our life we happen to meet marvellous people, who seem to be angels, who are patient, brave, people who can be our friends, people we can trust.
But women and men can give life to new things in this world.
Poets can give birth to new creations, with rhythm and rhyme. Like Olegario V. Andrade, Sylvia Plath just to mention some of them.
Writers build up stories creating characters who reflect our passions, sins, our world. Such as Stevenson, Hemmingway, Poe or Sabato. Many writers, when they publish their books, they say the book is their latest son.
Musicians have the most beautiful task to create melodies and songs. Our soul is in a peaceful world when we listen compositions by Mozart, Beetoven or Tchaikovsky .
It is magic when song composers write lyrics and with a musical instrument they give life to it. You can listen to them for hours, trying to understand Joan Manuel Serrat, John Lennon or Electric Light Orchestra the lyrics and music of their album Time.
Many chefs have recipes of their own. They have brought into existence delicious dishes in the different countries. Adding a particular characteristic to their tradition.
Artists of the world have given birth to paintings and sculptures which made them immortal, just think of Da Vinci, Michelangelo, Lola Mora or Picasso. Their work, their creations are shown inside cathedrals, in an important square, in a museum. Before them, there was no Mona Lisa, no Last Supper, no Nereidas, no Guernica at all.
Giving life does not mean only giving birth to a child. We can create many things coming from our imagination. As I am creating this entry out of my imagination and general culture for the Language class. It is very interesting to look for ideas in our mind, just to produce a piece of writing different from the others, with a different perspective, a different point of view.
New ideas that changed the course of history, new clothes and colours that changed fashion. Thanks to this capacity of human beings to give life in different forms of expression, the world has changed, geographically, we can say because of someone’s ideas the course of a river has been deviated, an artificial lake has been built. Historically in the sense that someone’s ideas influenced on economy, society and politics that originated some happy events but also violence, such as the wars.
The same happened with religion, there were powerful inspired people who have marked certain tendencies on people’s beliefs.
May God help intelligent, powerful people to create beautiful, useful things and ideas for the benefit of all human beings and not for their destruction.
ENTRY 29- SIMON´S BODY
Language 4 Entry Nª- 29
THE TIDE TAKES SIMON’S BODY INTO THE WATER
This is an extract from Lord of the Flies by William Golding, on chapter nine, the last lines of the chapter.
“Along the shoreward edge of the shallows the advancing clearness was full of strange, moonbeam-bodied creatures with fiery eyes. Here and there a larger pebble clung to its own air and was covered with a coat of pearls. The tide swelled in over the rain-pitted sand and smoothed everything with a layer of silver. Now it touched the first of the stains that seeped from the broken body and the creatures made a moving patch of light as they gathered at the edge. The water rose further and dressed Simon’s coarse hair with brightness. The line of his cheek silvered and the turn of his shoulder became sculptured marble. The strange, attendant creatures, with their fiery eyes and trailing vapours, busied themselves round his head. The body lifted a fraction of an inch from the sand and a bubble of air escaped from the mouth with a wet plop. Then it turned gently in the water.”
The sacrifice of Simon and the sacrifice of Jesus Christ are parallel images. His death was inevitable like Jesus’ death. When the transformed boys are killing Simon a terrible storm breaks. As if the voice of God was angry because they have killed his beloved son. The same happened when Jesus Christ was crossed, a terrible thunder frightened all the people and they run away terrified. When the boys realized what they had done to Simon they also run away. Jesus Christ’s head was illuminated with a bright light meaning he was God’s beloved son. Jesus is abandoned in the cross, Simon is left near the shore. Jesus was taken to Heaven , Simon was taken to the sea. By midnight the storm has passed , the clouds drifted away , the sky was clear and many stars shone. The light of the stars and the moon make Simon’s body visible for Piggy and Ralph. The description of the place where Simon is, is full of visual and auditory images. We can imagine the moonlight brightening his body, and when the tide comes we can listen to the smooth sound of the peaceful water covering his body. When the author says “the water rose further and dressed Simon’s coarse hair with brightness.” It is a metaphorical representation of some kind of divine light, worshipping Simon’s dead body, the water seems to be comforting him, and she takes his body with her. Now he cannot suffer any more from evil and cruelty of the boys.
It is clear that the boys have done something bad, they have worshipped evil, that is why the presence of fiery creatures in the night. His body is covered by silver jewellery , white light, symbol of innocence and good.
As Simon was a good character, I did not want him to die. But his death was unavoidable. After that, all the boys lost their innocence. They knew there was evil inside them.
THE TIDE TAKES SIMON’S BODY INTO THE WATER
This is an extract from Lord of the Flies by William Golding, on chapter nine, the last lines of the chapter.
“Along the shoreward edge of the shallows the advancing clearness was full of strange, moonbeam-bodied creatures with fiery eyes. Here and there a larger pebble clung to its own air and was covered with a coat of pearls. The tide swelled in over the rain-pitted sand and smoothed everything with a layer of silver. Now it touched the first of the stains that seeped from the broken body and the creatures made a moving patch of light as they gathered at the edge. The water rose further and dressed Simon’s coarse hair with brightness. The line of his cheek silvered and the turn of his shoulder became sculptured marble. The strange, attendant creatures, with their fiery eyes and trailing vapours, busied themselves round his head. The body lifted a fraction of an inch from the sand and a bubble of air escaped from the mouth with a wet plop. Then it turned gently in the water.”
The sacrifice of Simon and the sacrifice of Jesus Christ are parallel images. His death was inevitable like Jesus’ death. When the transformed boys are killing Simon a terrible storm breaks. As if the voice of God was angry because they have killed his beloved son. The same happened when Jesus Christ was crossed, a terrible thunder frightened all the people and they run away terrified. When the boys realized what they had done to Simon they also run away. Jesus Christ’s head was illuminated with a bright light meaning he was God’s beloved son. Jesus is abandoned in the cross, Simon is left near the shore. Jesus was taken to Heaven , Simon was taken to the sea. By midnight the storm has passed , the clouds drifted away , the sky was clear and many stars shone. The light of the stars and the moon make Simon’s body visible for Piggy and Ralph. The description of the place where Simon is, is full of visual and auditory images. We can imagine the moonlight brightening his body, and when the tide comes we can listen to the smooth sound of the peaceful water covering his body. When the author says “the water rose further and dressed Simon’s coarse hair with brightness.” It is a metaphorical representation of some kind of divine light, worshipping Simon’s dead body, the water seems to be comforting him, and she takes his body with her. Now he cannot suffer any more from evil and cruelty of the boys.
It is clear that the boys have done something bad, they have worshipped evil, that is why the presence of fiery creatures in the night. His body is covered by silver jewellery , white light, symbol of innocence and good.
As Simon was a good character, I did not want him to die. But his death was unavoidable. After that, all the boys lost their innocence. They knew there was evil inside them.
ENTRY 28- FREEDOM THROUGH FASHION
Language 4 Entry Nª 28
FIRST STEP TO FREEDOM THROUGH FASHION (oral exposition)
Whenever you see a woman covering her head with a shawl, you immediately relate her to Muslim religion. I’m not going to talk about Muslim religion but about Muslim women who still live in patriarchal societies and suffer because they do not have the same rights as men have, such as in Siwa.
I read two articles on the same topic that called my attention because both of them referred to “freedom of oasis women trough fashion”, one was from Time CNN and the other from the BBC News. I was really interested because I wanted to discover the connection between fashion and freedom. After my research I made it.
Siwa is in the desert of Egypt to the west; it is a small green patch near the Lybian border. Economy is primarily agricultural there and only men work in the crops, such as palm trees, olives and salt from lake waters. The inhabitants are descendants from Berber tribes. They live according to the old traditions, they are very conservative and their religion is Muslim.
Society is patriarchal, women cannot decide anything without a man’s approval, they have to ask for their father’s , brother’s or husband’s consent. Women are kept in close doors, they wear very long dresses and when they rarely go out they must cover their head with a shawl.
Women outnumber men in quantity, so it is very important for them to get married very young, because marriage gives them a key to some kind of freedom. Married women are allowed to work with their husbands or at home. Unlucky are the girls who stay unmarried because they have to do all the household and become servants of their fathers and brothers.
Girls are obliged to marry very young. They are sold by their fathers, and they obtain a better price if the girl is a virgin.
At an early age girls suffer from Female Genital Mutilation, a tribal tradition practised to make girls more submissive and faithful to their husbands. But this mutilation in their genital organs brings them a lot of awful secondary effects, such as pain, bleeding, infections, and traumas and they become senseless. So their husbands end up leaving them and they look for a woman who can feel.
Within this painful, submissive and unequal life a light shone for this women when the forces of globalization and economic development have started to slow social revolution in Siwa. Their social status would start to change thanks to FASHION.
A young entrepeneur from Cairo called Laila Neamatalla, and her brother took the challenge to plug Siwa into global economy. At first, they found workplaces for men, but they saw that they could not leave women aside, so they had the brilliant idea to revive the old embroidery traditions. They asked the old women to star embroidering clothes such as shirts and weddings dresses.
When the famous Italian designer Ermanno Scervinno, was visiting Siwa, he saw the magnificent patterns and he decided to incorporate the Siwi embroidery in his next collection and contacted Neamatalla. When he discovered that the work was done only by the old women, he arranged for the younger ones to be trained by their grandmothers. Scervinno’s designs are taken from Italy to Cairo and then to Siwa to be embroidered.
Women are paid according to the number of clothes they produce.
Nowadays Siwi women do not know the world but their embroidery is known all over the world and shown by famous model on international catwalks. They embroider jeans, shirts, wedding dresses and belts and bags.
Married and unmarried girls can work in groups or at home. It is their first taste of freedom and independence trough fashion.
They earn more money than men and they can buy whatever they want without asking for a man’s consent. They can buy jewellery and gadgets for their home. They can even choose their own husband.
Before this revolution they only knew and work four colours : sand, brown, green and olive, now they know and work a variety of colours.
To conclude, I have to say that it is quite ironic that fashion gives these women who are not fashionable at all, the chance to give their first step to change their social status. It is a positive result of globalization. And it seems that money, brings or gives a kind of freedom, power and the right to choose and decide not only for Siwi women, but for all women in the world who have the chance to have a job.
Sources:
“Women’s freedom comes slowly to a sleepy oasis”. Time CNN. Postcard from Siwa
Thursday, June 07, 2007. by Amany Radwan.
“Oasis women fashion their own freedom” BBC News. By Sylvia Smith.
Thursday, June 07, 2007.
“Siwa traditions and religion” www.joshuaproject.net.
FIRST STEP TO FREEDOM THROUGH FASHION (oral exposition)
Whenever you see a woman covering her head with a shawl, you immediately relate her to Muslim religion. I’m not going to talk about Muslim religion but about Muslim women who still live in patriarchal societies and suffer because they do not have the same rights as men have, such as in Siwa.
I read two articles on the same topic that called my attention because both of them referred to “freedom of oasis women trough fashion”, one was from Time CNN and the other from the BBC News. I was really interested because I wanted to discover the connection between fashion and freedom. After my research I made it.
Siwa is in the desert of Egypt to the west; it is a small green patch near the Lybian border. Economy is primarily agricultural there and only men work in the crops, such as palm trees, olives and salt from lake waters. The inhabitants are descendants from Berber tribes. They live according to the old traditions, they are very conservative and their religion is Muslim.
Society is patriarchal, women cannot decide anything without a man’s approval, they have to ask for their father’s , brother’s or husband’s consent. Women are kept in close doors, they wear very long dresses and when they rarely go out they must cover their head with a shawl.
Women outnumber men in quantity, so it is very important for them to get married very young, because marriage gives them a key to some kind of freedom. Married women are allowed to work with their husbands or at home. Unlucky are the girls who stay unmarried because they have to do all the household and become servants of their fathers and brothers.
Girls are obliged to marry very young. They are sold by their fathers, and they obtain a better price if the girl is a virgin.
At an early age girls suffer from Female Genital Mutilation, a tribal tradition practised to make girls more submissive and faithful to their husbands. But this mutilation in their genital organs brings them a lot of awful secondary effects, such as pain, bleeding, infections, and traumas and they become senseless. So their husbands end up leaving them and they look for a woman who can feel.
Within this painful, submissive and unequal life a light shone for this women when the forces of globalization and economic development have started to slow social revolution in Siwa. Their social status would start to change thanks to FASHION.
A young entrepeneur from Cairo called Laila Neamatalla, and her brother took the challenge to plug Siwa into global economy. At first, they found workplaces for men, but they saw that they could not leave women aside, so they had the brilliant idea to revive the old embroidery traditions. They asked the old women to star embroidering clothes such as shirts and weddings dresses.
When the famous Italian designer Ermanno Scervinno, was visiting Siwa, he saw the magnificent patterns and he decided to incorporate the Siwi embroidery in his next collection and contacted Neamatalla. When he discovered that the work was done only by the old women, he arranged for the younger ones to be trained by their grandmothers. Scervinno’s designs are taken from Italy to Cairo and then to Siwa to be embroidered.
Women are paid according to the number of clothes they produce.
Nowadays Siwi women do not know the world but their embroidery is known all over the world and shown by famous model on international catwalks. They embroider jeans, shirts, wedding dresses and belts and bags.
Married and unmarried girls can work in groups or at home. It is their first taste of freedom and independence trough fashion.
They earn more money than men and they can buy whatever they want without asking for a man’s consent. They can buy jewellery and gadgets for their home. They can even choose their own husband.
Before this revolution they only knew and work four colours : sand, brown, green and olive, now they know and work a variety of colours.
To conclude, I have to say that it is quite ironic that fashion gives these women who are not fashionable at all, the chance to give their first step to change their social status. It is a positive result of globalization. And it seems that money, brings or gives a kind of freedom, power and the right to choose and decide not only for Siwi women, but for all women in the world who have the chance to have a job.
Sources:
“Women’s freedom comes slowly to a sleepy oasis”. Time CNN. Postcard from Siwa
Thursday, June 07, 2007. by Amany Radwan.
“Oasis women fashion their own freedom” BBC News. By Sylvia Smith.
Thursday, June 07, 2007.
“Siwa traditions and religion” www.joshuaproject.net.
ENTRY 27- DR JEKYLL AND MR HYDE
Language 4 Entry Nª 27
Extract from chapter 8 Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde “The last night” (P.48)
Soro, Juana. Revised
This extract from Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde represents the climax of the novel, the peak of the raising action. That is the moment of highest intensity and interest. The author uses certain literary devices such as descriptions, visual and auditory images, inversion, contrast and symbolism in order to create expectation on the last night, when the decisive events of the novel are happening.
The descriptions are very vivid in the whole passage. It seems to be like a story within the story, because of the introduction, the development and an open ending. Stevenson uses visual images such as the red handkerchief Poole uses to mop his brow, which has the colour of blood, anticipating death, as well as the description of the moon to represent a tragedy or a violent event about to happen, “…with a pale moon lying on her back as though the wind had tilted her.” The description of the street gives the impression of a very sad, lonely and deserted place, “It seemed to have swept the streets unusually bare of passengers…”. Violence is suggested through the presence of wind, a strong wind which makes “…the thin trees in the garden were lashing themselves along the railing”, a metaphorical representation of the fight, the violence of the events. This image is so vivid that the readers can feel the force and brutality of the wind (Evil), which can cause the destruction of the trees (Good).
The author uses inversion to emphasize the desperate moment of the story, Mr. Utterson fears a tragedy, “…never in his life had he seen of so sharp a wish to see and touch his fellow creatures, for struggle as he might, there was borne in upon his mind a crushing anticipation of calamity” , as if anguish, desperation were present everywhere. This is clear in the description of how Poole mops his brow with a red handkerchief “But for all the hurry of his coming, these were not the dews of exertion that he wiped away, but the moisture of some strangling anguish , for his face was white and his voice, when he spoke, harsh and broken”. It is a very sad image, a metaphorical representation of some kind of tragedy that Poole cannot avoid by wiping his brow, an unavoidable agony happening somewhere, reflected in his voice harsh and broken.
The short dialogue between Poole and Mr Utterson : -“well, sir”, “here we are, and God grant there be nothing wrong”.
“Amen,Poole,”said the lawyer. Poole’s word sound like a prayer to prevent something bad from happening. the lawyer also fear evil and shares Poole’s prayer, asking God for help.
The description of the outside of the house with the street sad, windy, lonely and cold, and the inside which is “…brightly lighted up, the fire was built high,…” shows contrast, an abrupt change. In the outside there is loneliness, darkness, terrible anguish whereas in the inside there is clarity, comfort, when Mr. Utterson is seen as a saviour. It is reflected on Poole’s voice when someone in the inside asks: “Is that you, Poole?"
And Poole answers : “It’s all right”, “open the door”, as if he had returned with a solution to a terrible event.
The main characters in the piece are Mr Utterson and Poole in the street, the two men plus the servants and an unidentified voice are inside of the house. The simile of the servants, men and women, “like a flock of sheep”, reflects they are looking for a guide, a protector, clearly shown when a female servant says crying out “Bless God! It’s Mr Utterson”.and “ran forward as if to take him in her arms”. Here Utterson is the father figure, the protector who can help their children ( the flock of sheep) to solve the problem, or to overcome the dramatic moments they are living in the house.
The wind stands for evil, “…it made talking difficult”, as a symbol of the lack of communication between people or friends, a kind of silence which hides some kind of terrible secret. The short dialogues have just the necessary words, so as to create expectation.
In my opinion, the extract is a beautiful piece of writing. The descriptions of the deserted street, the tilted moon, the brutality of the wind takes the reader step by step to the scene of some calamity, the scene of an unavoidable tragedy. The descriptions and the images are so vivid that I, as a reader, could feel the cold wind, its violence, in a destructive way. So, I think that the intention of Stevenson of placing the reader in the atmosphere of the climax of the story has been achieved.
Extract from chapter 8 Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde “The last night” (P.48)
Soro, Juana. Revised
This extract from Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde represents the climax of the novel, the peak of the raising action. That is the moment of highest intensity and interest. The author uses certain literary devices such as descriptions, visual and auditory images, inversion, contrast and symbolism in order to create expectation on the last night, when the decisive events of the novel are happening.
The descriptions are very vivid in the whole passage. It seems to be like a story within the story, because of the introduction, the development and an open ending. Stevenson uses visual images such as the red handkerchief Poole uses to mop his brow, which has the colour of blood, anticipating death, as well as the description of the moon to represent a tragedy or a violent event about to happen, “…with a pale moon lying on her back as though the wind had tilted her.” The description of the street gives the impression of a very sad, lonely and deserted place, “It seemed to have swept the streets unusually bare of passengers…”. Violence is suggested through the presence of wind, a strong wind which makes “…the thin trees in the garden were lashing themselves along the railing”, a metaphorical representation of the fight, the violence of the events. This image is so vivid that the readers can feel the force and brutality of the wind (Evil), which can cause the destruction of the trees (Good).
The author uses inversion to emphasize the desperate moment of the story, Mr. Utterson fears a tragedy, “…never in his life had he seen of so sharp a wish to see and touch his fellow creatures, for struggle as he might, there was borne in upon his mind a crushing anticipation of calamity” , as if anguish, desperation were present everywhere. This is clear in the description of how Poole mops his brow with a red handkerchief “But for all the hurry of his coming, these were not the dews of exertion that he wiped away, but the moisture of some strangling anguish , for his face was white and his voice, when he spoke, harsh and broken”. It is a very sad image, a metaphorical representation of some kind of tragedy that Poole cannot avoid by wiping his brow, an unavoidable agony happening somewhere, reflected in his voice harsh and broken.
The short dialogue between Poole and Mr Utterson : -“well, sir”, “here we are, and God grant there be nothing wrong”.
“Amen,Poole,”said the lawyer. Poole’s word sound like a prayer to prevent something bad from happening. the lawyer also fear evil and shares Poole’s prayer, asking God for help.
The description of the outside of the house with the street sad, windy, lonely and cold, and the inside which is “…brightly lighted up, the fire was built high,…” shows contrast, an abrupt change. In the outside there is loneliness, darkness, terrible anguish whereas in the inside there is clarity, comfort, when Mr. Utterson is seen as a saviour. It is reflected on Poole’s voice when someone in the inside asks: “Is that you, Poole?"
And Poole answers : “It’s all right”, “open the door”, as if he had returned with a solution to a terrible event.
The main characters in the piece are Mr Utterson and Poole in the street, the two men plus the servants and an unidentified voice are inside of the house. The simile of the servants, men and women, “like a flock of sheep”, reflects they are looking for a guide, a protector, clearly shown when a female servant says crying out “Bless God! It’s Mr Utterson”.and “ran forward as if to take him in her arms”. Here Utterson is the father figure, the protector who can help their children ( the flock of sheep) to solve the problem, or to overcome the dramatic moments they are living in the house.
The wind stands for evil, “…it made talking difficult”, as a symbol of the lack of communication between people or friends, a kind of silence which hides some kind of terrible secret. The short dialogues have just the necessary words, so as to create expectation.
In my opinion, the extract is a beautiful piece of writing. The descriptions of the deserted street, the tilted moon, the brutality of the wind takes the reader step by step to the scene of some calamity, the scene of an unavoidable tragedy. The descriptions and the images are so vivid that I, as a reader, could feel the cold wind, its violence, in a destructive way. So, I think that the intention of Stevenson of placing the reader in the atmosphere of the climax of the story has been achieved.
ENTRY 26- TOURISTS COME
Language 4 Entry Nª 26
TOURISTS COME TO MY TOWN!
As a recent member of the new tourist agency in my town I am going to promote tourism on it. Why tourists coming from many parts of the world are only interested in 9th of July Park, Independence Square, the Cathedral, the Independence House and the so beautiful Tafì del Valle landscapes. It is so routinary and boring.
I would attract tourist telling them the following:
Do you want to have a really busy, dynamic and why not dangerous, exhausting day?
Well, come to my town.
Do you want to witness an amazing black rain covering houses and people as well?
So, prepare your digital cameras and come!
Do you dare to experience a terrifying, scaring feeling that the world is coming to an end in the middle of the night when heavy trucks and lorries descend with their empty boxes from the high slope where the railway crosses?
Will you be so brave to sleep careless of the deafening noise, menacing to crash into your garden or door because you never know if the driver is asleep at 3.00 or 4.00 in the morning?
If you are brave enough, come to my town!
It is a bit scaring and disappointing but it is only during the night. You know when the dark veil of night spreads over the town, all our fears come shamefully to us. Do not worry. When the morning comes, it will get better.
You will have plenty of time to sleep late more or less up to 9.30 or 10, that is when the fog mixed with dust react in a strange chemical way producing a dangerous but attractive scene at the same time, so you can spend the time playing a guessing game, like asking what goes there? And another tries to infer what vehicle it is because of the noise of the engine.
I would serve the breakfast in the garden, but I would wash all the leaves of the plants or perhaps you would prefer to guess what colour is under the layer of dust. If you want to see how the sky is beginning to show the beauty of the sun, please put dark glasses because the first shy, little, thin and fragile black ashes are beginning to fall.
If you want more action, wait until it turns warmer so the owners of the sugar cane plantations set fire the whole plantation and you will experience the terror of the burning, exploding sounds of the cane leaves. It seems that the whole town will burn in a time, but do not worry, the fire never reaches the houses!, what the fire reaches are the electricity cables. It does not matter if we run out of electricity for the rest of the day, until the electricity company repares the damaged cables. Moreover, what matters if there is someone at the operation theatre in one of the hospitals and the operation can not be done, or it fails and the patient dies, we have to support sugar cane production, sugar factories employ more people for this season. So let them work because they need the money for their families, the rest of us do not matter. What is the problem of having five or ten ashes in the same eye, we enjoy visiting the oculist or washing our clothes and hair everyday. What is a hall, a backyard or a cupboard without dust and ashes. They are nothing!, they do not look the same as when they are clean! Being covered by ashes, gives the house, the plants and the furniture an exotic view!
Ladies and gentlemen, prepare your digital cameras, the first ashes are beginning to fall. It is so exiting, but put your glasses on first, can you capture that delicate gracious image of the little black dashes coming down? They are so tiny and thin that they look like a classical dancer, see what a delicacy, waving from side to side, a little but gracious jump over there, they whirl and with a bow they land on your head, on your shoulders, on your white shirts, but I know they prefer to land into your eyes, but leave space in your cameras for the bigger ones are coming now, look they are five or ten or fifteen centimetres long! Have you ever seen such big ashes? It is a unique event! See? They are as gracious as the little ones, but with the slight difference that these big ones have taken some classes of how to fly like a plane. I think that sometimes they are so pretentious, they believe they are parachutists themselves! The evidence is that they reach a certain altitude and with a disdaining courage they jump towards the ground without a parachute! They are so self centred that I began to hate them. Nevertheless they do not care about my opinions. Look how gracious they wave, they are soaring, flying, falling in a slow trip from heaven to ground. One has landed, there are more, what a pity! They are so fragile that when they land they brake into pieces, but others not, so you can take them as souveniers. Or you could start a collection of odd things so you can include the big ashes . I am thinking of starting a collection of them myself.
TOURISTS COME TO MY TOWN!
As a recent member of the new tourist agency in my town I am going to promote tourism on it. Why tourists coming from many parts of the world are only interested in 9th of July Park, Independence Square, the Cathedral, the Independence House and the so beautiful Tafì del Valle landscapes. It is so routinary and boring.
I would attract tourist telling them the following:
Do you want to have a really busy, dynamic and why not dangerous, exhausting day?
Well, come to my town.
Do you want to witness an amazing black rain covering houses and people as well?
So, prepare your digital cameras and come!
Do you dare to experience a terrifying, scaring feeling that the world is coming to an end in the middle of the night when heavy trucks and lorries descend with their empty boxes from the high slope where the railway crosses?
Will you be so brave to sleep careless of the deafening noise, menacing to crash into your garden or door because you never know if the driver is asleep at 3.00 or 4.00 in the morning?
If you are brave enough, come to my town!
It is a bit scaring and disappointing but it is only during the night. You know when the dark veil of night spreads over the town, all our fears come shamefully to us. Do not worry. When the morning comes, it will get better.
You will have plenty of time to sleep late more or less up to 9.30 or 10, that is when the fog mixed with dust react in a strange chemical way producing a dangerous but attractive scene at the same time, so you can spend the time playing a guessing game, like asking what goes there? And another tries to infer what vehicle it is because of the noise of the engine.
I would serve the breakfast in the garden, but I would wash all the leaves of the plants or perhaps you would prefer to guess what colour is under the layer of dust. If you want to see how the sky is beginning to show the beauty of the sun, please put dark glasses because the first shy, little, thin and fragile black ashes are beginning to fall.
If you want more action, wait until it turns warmer so the owners of the sugar cane plantations set fire the whole plantation and you will experience the terror of the burning, exploding sounds of the cane leaves. It seems that the whole town will burn in a time, but do not worry, the fire never reaches the houses!, what the fire reaches are the electricity cables. It does not matter if we run out of electricity for the rest of the day, until the electricity company repares the damaged cables. Moreover, what matters if there is someone at the operation theatre in one of the hospitals and the operation can not be done, or it fails and the patient dies, we have to support sugar cane production, sugar factories employ more people for this season. So let them work because they need the money for their families, the rest of us do not matter. What is the problem of having five or ten ashes in the same eye, we enjoy visiting the oculist or washing our clothes and hair everyday. What is a hall, a backyard or a cupboard without dust and ashes. They are nothing!, they do not look the same as when they are clean! Being covered by ashes, gives the house, the plants and the furniture an exotic view!
Ladies and gentlemen, prepare your digital cameras, the first ashes are beginning to fall. It is so exiting, but put your glasses on first, can you capture that delicate gracious image of the little black dashes coming down? They are so tiny and thin that they look like a classical dancer, see what a delicacy, waving from side to side, a little but gracious jump over there, they whirl and with a bow they land on your head, on your shoulders, on your white shirts, but I know they prefer to land into your eyes, but leave space in your cameras for the bigger ones are coming now, look they are five or ten or fifteen centimetres long! Have you ever seen such big ashes? It is a unique event! See? They are as gracious as the little ones, but with the slight difference that these big ones have taken some classes of how to fly like a plane. I think that sometimes they are so pretentious, they believe they are parachutists themselves! The evidence is that they reach a certain altitude and with a disdaining courage they jump towards the ground without a parachute! They are so self centred that I began to hate them. Nevertheless they do not care about my opinions. Look how gracious they wave, they are soaring, flying, falling in a slow trip from heaven to ground. One has landed, there are more, what a pity! They are so fragile that when they land they brake into pieces, but others not, so you can take them as souveniers. Or you could start a collection of odd things so you can include the big ashes . I am thinking of starting a collection of them myself.
ENTRY 25- WORSHIPPERS OF SUN
Language 4 Entry Nª 25
WORSHIPPERS OF SUN
The sun has always been worshipped as a god for many extinguished tribes, for many people, like the Egyptians , at a certain time when Akhenathon was pharaoh, he changed the religion, with him Egyptians had to worship only one god, it was the sun, he called it Athon. In southamerican culture, the Aztec and maya tribes. The sun for them was everything. It represented the success of a crop, warmth and light. The Incas called it Inti.
The tradition of worshipping the sun has not disappeared. I saw two pictures which appeared on “The Buenos Aires Herald” Friday, June 22, 2007, because of the summer solstice in England and winter solstice of southern hemisphere.
One picture is on page 6 and shows a groups of young people gathered in front of the remains of Stonehenge. The title says “Sun disappoints worshippers” and the epigraph says that drummers pound the parchments and visitors mill around and listen at the ancient Stonehenge monument, seen in the background, in England yesterday after thousands waited in vain for the summer solstice sunrise yesterday. The sun was obscured by clouds.”
The second photograph is on page3 under the title of “The dawning of a New year”, and in the picture there are many indigenous people wearing traditional clothes, like “ponchos” hats, and they look happy and they are with their hands up smiling to the sun, in contrast with the previous photo, where the people looked disappointed, and they looked as if they were cold. The epigraph of the second photo says “Aymara Indians hold up their hands to catch the first rays of dawn in a traditional New Year’s ritual held at the Tiwanaku ruins near La Paz yesterday. The Aymara calendar, now in year 5515, begins each year at the southern hemisphere’s winter solstice.”
Perhaps the ancient tribes which gathered in Stonehenge, celebrated the new year, as the Aymara tribes do. They used to worship the first ray of the sun on the solstice, but the stones cannot tell us anything. On the other hand the Aymara tribe has survived enough time so as to make the world know what their traditions are.
WORSHIPPERS OF SUN
The sun has always been worshipped as a god for many extinguished tribes, for many people, like the Egyptians , at a certain time when Akhenathon was pharaoh, he changed the religion, with him Egyptians had to worship only one god, it was the sun, he called it Athon. In southamerican culture, the Aztec and maya tribes. The sun for them was everything. It represented the success of a crop, warmth and light. The Incas called it Inti.
The tradition of worshipping the sun has not disappeared. I saw two pictures which appeared on “The Buenos Aires Herald” Friday, June 22, 2007, because of the summer solstice in England and winter solstice of southern hemisphere.
One picture is on page 6 and shows a groups of young people gathered in front of the remains of Stonehenge. The title says “Sun disappoints worshippers” and the epigraph says that drummers pound the parchments and visitors mill around and listen at the ancient Stonehenge monument, seen in the background, in England yesterday after thousands waited in vain for the summer solstice sunrise yesterday. The sun was obscured by clouds.”
The second photograph is on page3 under the title of “The dawning of a New year”, and in the picture there are many indigenous people wearing traditional clothes, like “ponchos” hats, and they look happy and they are with their hands up smiling to the sun, in contrast with the previous photo, where the people looked disappointed, and they looked as if they were cold. The epigraph of the second photo says “Aymara Indians hold up their hands to catch the first rays of dawn in a traditional New Year’s ritual held at the Tiwanaku ruins near La Paz yesterday. The Aymara calendar, now in year 5515, begins each year at the southern hemisphere’s winter solstice.”
Perhaps the ancient tribes which gathered in Stonehenge, celebrated the new year, as the Aymara tribes do. They used to worship the first ray of the sun on the solstice, but the stones cannot tell us anything. On the other hand the Aymara tribe has survived enough time so as to make the world know what their traditions are.
ENTRY 24- SHAPES IN THE SKY
Language 4 Entry Nª 24
SHAPES AND FORMS IN THE SKY
For many years I didn´t look at the sky looking for something magic. I always studied it with a critical view, looking for the signs of a storm, in the grey fat menacing clouds, or wind in the circular red rings around the moon. Well I am a grown up now. If I say, come look, can´t you see the shape of a monster in that cloud, I am sure, I will be taken for a crazy person.
When I was a child, I used to lay on the grass, under the shadow of a tree and look for the different shapes hidden in the white clouds. Sometimes they began as the head of somebody and changed into a fat snake. Or at the beginning it was a beautiful white horse running in the sky and after a few seconds it vanished into a ragged piece of cloth.
It is difficult for me to find forms in the clouds, nowadays but there is still a bit of fantasy and imagination inside me. The time for fantasy has passed. But if I have to write an entry about the clouds, I am able to seek deep into my mind to look for dreams and fantasy again. I feel transported to a kind of virtual time, looking for imagination, I can still find dragons and princes and princesses in love.
Some clouds travel at very fast speed. They travel in groups and in a few seconds they change from one thing to another. It is difficult to see their shape. They could be nothing, but the influence of the books I once read made me imagine, ships, pirates fighting Sandokan, or the monsters Lester del Rey talked about in his novel Abandoned in Mars. A flock of sheep from David’s time seems to be running up the dry mountains to find grass and water.
One day I was travelling to Tafi del Valle on bus and when it reached a certain altitude I could appreciate the clouds very close to the bus. We were inside the cloud, and it looked like a curtain of microscopic drops of water. The mountains disappeared, also the sun, my ears could not hear anything and my stomach began to feel bad. I forgot all about the clouds and the beauty of the mountains and the narrow streams.
Sometimes the clouds scare me, when they get dark grey predicting that it will rain. Sometimes I get disappointed when I expect a beautiful sunny day and I find stubborn quiet dark clouds covering the sky.
SHAPES AND FORMS IN THE SKY
For many years I didn´t look at the sky looking for something magic. I always studied it with a critical view, looking for the signs of a storm, in the grey fat menacing clouds, or wind in the circular red rings around the moon. Well I am a grown up now. If I say, come look, can´t you see the shape of a monster in that cloud, I am sure, I will be taken for a crazy person.
When I was a child, I used to lay on the grass, under the shadow of a tree and look for the different shapes hidden in the white clouds. Sometimes they began as the head of somebody and changed into a fat snake. Or at the beginning it was a beautiful white horse running in the sky and after a few seconds it vanished into a ragged piece of cloth.
It is difficult for me to find forms in the clouds, nowadays but there is still a bit of fantasy and imagination inside me. The time for fantasy has passed. But if I have to write an entry about the clouds, I am able to seek deep into my mind to look for dreams and fantasy again. I feel transported to a kind of virtual time, looking for imagination, I can still find dragons and princes and princesses in love.
Some clouds travel at very fast speed. They travel in groups and in a few seconds they change from one thing to another. It is difficult to see their shape. They could be nothing, but the influence of the books I once read made me imagine, ships, pirates fighting Sandokan, or the monsters Lester del Rey talked about in his novel Abandoned in Mars. A flock of sheep from David’s time seems to be running up the dry mountains to find grass and water.
One day I was travelling to Tafi del Valle on bus and when it reached a certain altitude I could appreciate the clouds very close to the bus. We were inside the cloud, and it looked like a curtain of microscopic drops of water. The mountains disappeared, also the sun, my ears could not hear anything and my stomach began to feel bad. I forgot all about the clouds and the beauty of the mountains and the narrow streams.
Sometimes the clouds scare me, when they get dark grey predicting that it will rain. Sometimes I get disappointed when I expect a beautiful sunny day and I find stubborn quiet dark clouds covering the sky.
ENTRY 23- TRADITIONS
Language 4 Entry Nª 23
Traditions that still survive in my town.
The fast development of technology during the last decade is making many interesting, characterising and pictoresque customs and traditions disappear. This is the case of the grocer who sells vegetables in a cart drawn by horses. The cart is generally made of wood, with beautiful paintings on its walls, and a kind of roof. Many of them shout aloud their products, but others have a loudspeaker. You can hear them from a long distance. But it is not sure that they will give you the exact weight.
Many of them go to the countryside to sell their vegetables, but they also have competitors who go to sell goods in vans as well. Nevertheless they still insist on their business. They also have one advantage over the ones who go in vans. As their cart is drawn by horses, they can go to the countryside even when it is raining, or when there is mud in the roads which makes difficult for vans to drive in the mud. Horses need some corn and water, they will not stop if you have run out of petrol. The same happens with the cart wheels, as they are made of wood and iron, they do not suffer from punctures.
On the other hand carts have a disadvantage, they are slower than vans. Nevertheless they still survive.
Another traditional character is the man who sells peanuts, the peanut seller. He also drives a cart drawn by a horse. Their cart is not as colourful as the grocers are, they have a special machine to toast the peanuts. So when you buy them, they are warm. They offer salad peanuts, with sugar, raw peanuts. They also carry very little and thin paper bags. Many years before, they used to put the peanuts in a cone made of paper. It was a kind of science, this craft of them, the way they put the sheet of paper in order to make a cone. They also have a characteristic whistle which identifies them. They sell peanuts specially during the evening.
The next character is the man who sells sugar cottons in the street. He walks across the neighbourhoods carrying a big pole with holes in it. In each hole he puts a colourful sugar cotton, he has pink, yellow, blue cottons, all of them wrapped in a plastic bag. Other sugar cotton sellers install their machine in a corner where they play a whistle. They prepare the sugar cottons while the kids choose the colour. It is also a science for them to see them preparing the sugar and when the machine makes the sugar liquid they introduce a long stick where the sugar cottons stick forming a great ball. I used to buy them when I was a child. Now I buy them to my son. But I still like to eat a sugar cotton.
Traditions that still survive in my town.
The fast development of technology during the last decade is making many interesting, characterising and pictoresque customs and traditions disappear. This is the case of the grocer who sells vegetables in a cart drawn by horses. The cart is generally made of wood, with beautiful paintings on its walls, and a kind of roof. Many of them shout aloud their products, but others have a loudspeaker. You can hear them from a long distance. But it is not sure that they will give you the exact weight.
Many of them go to the countryside to sell their vegetables, but they also have competitors who go to sell goods in vans as well. Nevertheless they still insist on their business. They also have one advantage over the ones who go in vans. As their cart is drawn by horses, they can go to the countryside even when it is raining, or when there is mud in the roads which makes difficult for vans to drive in the mud. Horses need some corn and water, they will not stop if you have run out of petrol. The same happens with the cart wheels, as they are made of wood and iron, they do not suffer from punctures.
On the other hand carts have a disadvantage, they are slower than vans. Nevertheless they still survive.
Another traditional character is the man who sells peanuts, the peanut seller. He also drives a cart drawn by a horse. Their cart is not as colourful as the grocers are, they have a special machine to toast the peanuts. So when you buy them, they are warm. They offer salad peanuts, with sugar, raw peanuts. They also carry very little and thin paper bags. Many years before, they used to put the peanuts in a cone made of paper. It was a kind of science, this craft of them, the way they put the sheet of paper in order to make a cone. They also have a characteristic whistle which identifies them. They sell peanuts specially during the evening.
The next character is the man who sells sugar cottons in the street. He walks across the neighbourhoods carrying a big pole with holes in it. In each hole he puts a colourful sugar cotton, he has pink, yellow, blue cottons, all of them wrapped in a plastic bag. Other sugar cotton sellers install their machine in a corner where they play a whistle. They prepare the sugar cottons while the kids choose the colour. It is also a science for them to see them preparing the sugar and when the machine makes the sugar liquid they introduce a long stick where the sugar cottons stick forming a great ball. I used to buy them when I was a child. Now I buy them to my son. But I still like to eat a sugar cotton.
ENTRY 22- BROKEN DREAM
Language 4 Entry Nª 22
A BROKEN DREAM (Story)
The happy couple were waiting for the bus at the bus stop. When the bus came, the boy kissed the girl in a hurry and he gave her a present when he said goodbye. It was a red rose inside a glass vase with the shape of a bottle. The girl gave him another kiss on his lips and she got in the bus. He stayed at the bus stop for a moment waving his hand to her.
She was young, may be eighteen, tall, slim, dark long hair, with a pale face and dressed very informal with a jumper, a jean jacket and a pair of blue jeans. She did not take handbag. She paid the bus ticket and went to the seats, but as there were no seats free, she stood standing holding from a bar of one of the seats. She had a dreamer’s face, she was in love and she adored that beautiful, simple red rose her boyfriend had given her. Now she could show it to her sisters at home, to her friends. But not to her mother or father, they would better not know about her boyfriend yet. In her inner thoughts she was planning to tell them that she had bought the flower to a poor woman at the street.
The bus driver took the curve of the roundabout quite fast, and she almost fell. She touched another handle with her hand holding the rose and it almost broke. The passengers could hear the tinkling of the fragile, thin glass, touching the metal handle. A few blocks more of travelling and she could get a seat at the front.
She sat quickly, and she hold the rose with both hands. She cherished the glass as she was cherishing her boyfriend’s face. And she repeated in her mind the romantic moment at the bus stop. “He loves me”, she thought. “And I love him so much, he is so sensible, it was a delicate gesture to give me this flower”, she followed in her dreams.
She got up and walked towards the bus driver and said “Stop, please”. The driver pressed the brake and she tumbled a bit and she took from another bar near the bus door with the rose in her hand. Now the tinkle was stronger, it was a crash and a splash, because the bottom end of the vase contained water. Pieces of fragile glass rolled into the hole of the gear, at the bottom of the bus floor. The water was there running through the holes in the floor until the stream reached the steps, and there it stopped. The other part of the vase was in her hand, dangerous, with its sharp endings.
She could not realize that her vase was broken. Her face was sad, she hold the remains of the flower and the vase, and looked at them as if she could fix them with magic. Why she had to take that handle with the vase in her hand? If only she could go back in time and solve the problem. But she could not.
The bus stopped, she did not say anything nor anyone in the bus said anything. The ones who had witnessed the unfortunate accident looked at her with sorrow. She got off the bus and reached the sidewalk. She began to cry in silence. She looked at the broken rose and many tears fell from her eyes.
All her dreams were broken, what would she say to her boyfriend when he asked about the flower? She had planned to put it on her night table. To remember him and how much he loved her. Now what?
She silently prayed to God wishing that this horrible irreparable incident would not be a bad prediction for her and for her boyfriend, for their relationship, for their love.
She stopped crying. She thought that she could still have the rose. It was intact inside the remaining pieces of glass. She could put the red rose in another vase on her night table. She could still look at it at night and think of her beloved, on his kisses, on his promises to her. She smiled, took the rose in her hand and threw the broken vase on the street.
A BROKEN DREAM (Story)
The happy couple were waiting for the bus at the bus stop. When the bus came, the boy kissed the girl in a hurry and he gave her a present when he said goodbye. It was a red rose inside a glass vase with the shape of a bottle. The girl gave him another kiss on his lips and she got in the bus. He stayed at the bus stop for a moment waving his hand to her.
She was young, may be eighteen, tall, slim, dark long hair, with a pale face and dressed very informal with a jumper, a jean jacket and a pair of blue jeans. She did not take handbag. She paid the bus ticket and went to the seats, but as there were no seats free, she stood standing holding from a bar of one of the seats. She had a dreamer’s face, she was in love and she adored that beautiful, simple red rose her boyfriend had given her. Now she could show it to her sisters at home, to her friends. But not to her mother or father, they would better not know about her boyfriend yet. In her inner thoughts she was planning to tell them that she had bought the flower to a poor woman at the street.
The bus driver took the curve of the roundabout quite fast, and she almost fell. She touched another handle with her hand holding the rose and it almost broke. The passengers could hear the tinkling of the fragile, thin glass, touching the metal handle. A few blocks more of travelling and she could get a seat at the front.
She sat quickly, and she hold the rose with both hands. She cherished the glass as she was cherishing her boyfriend’s face. And she repeated in her mind the romantic moment at the bus stop. “He loves me”, she thought. “And I love him so much, he is so sensible, it was a delicate gesture to give me this flower”, she followed in her dreams.
She got up and walked towards the bus driver and said “Stop, please”. The driver pressed the brake and she tumbled a bit and she took from another bar near the bus door with the rose in her hand. Now the tinkle was stronger, it was a crash and a splash, because the bottom end of the vase contained water. Pieces of fragile glass rolled into the hole of the gear, at the bottom of the bus floor. The water was there running through the holes in the floor until the stream reached the steps, and there it stopped. The other part of the vase was in her hand, dangerous, with its sharp endings.
She could not realize that her vase was broken. Her face was sad, she hold the remains of the flower and the vase, and looked at them as if she could fix them with magic. Why she had to take that handle with the vase in her hand? If only she could go back in time and solve the problem. But she could not.
The bus stopped, she did not say anything nor anyone in the bus said anything. The ones who had witnessed the unfortunate accident looked at her with sorrow. She got off the bus and reached the sidewalk. She began to cry in silence. She looked at the broken rose and many tears fell from her eyes.
All her dreams were broken, what would she say to her boyfriend when he asked about the flower? She had planned to put it on her night table. To remember him and how much he loved her. Now what?
She silently prayed to God wishing that this horrible irreparable incident would not be a bad prediction for her and for her boyfriend, for their relationship, for their love.
She stopped crying. She thought that she could still have the rose. It was intact inside the remaining pieces of glass. She could put the red rose in another vase on her night table. She could still look at it at night and think of her beloved, on his kisses, on his promises to her. She smiled, took the rose in her hand and threw the broken vase on the street.
ENTRY 21- ART
Language 4 Entry Nª 21
ART USED TO INFLUENCE AND LIE TO PEOPLE
I used to think about Art as a painting or a sculpture an artist makes in order to reflect his interior self, to show agreement or disagreement with a political system. I know that Art is part of the humankind since prehistoric times, such as the paintings on the cave’s walls. It had some mysterious, magic power to make their hunting abundant. The dictionary says that Art is :::”paintings, drawings, and sculptures that are created to be beautiful or to express ideas. But it does not say that people uses Art for other things apart from beauty.
Last week I was looking for an interesting programme on television, because I couldn’t sleep, and a documentary about art called my attention. It was on a new channel, called Encuentro. I was really surprised to listen a research on how people have used Art along the times as a means to get something from others. Art giving them power in ancient times and as a powerful strategy to cheat and to lie to people in modern times.
This function of Art was new to me. I never thought about the important function of art in a people’s life. Art, after all, isn’t as useless and valueless as many people think, because many intelligent people have learned how to make it useful to get what they want. I was tempted to change the channel on the television, but as I saw that Stonehenge was involved, it called my attention again.
Stonehenge is a mysterious place and scientists have given it a lot of explanations for its construction. Some say it functioned as a clock to mark the seasons for crops, others that it was so perfect a construction that the first ray of sun could enter at a certain point on the 21st of June , others that it was a temple were the druids gathered to prepare their magic drinks. Now there’ s another explanation derived from a recent discovery that some archaeologists have made near the site. They have found a skeleton and a pair of gold rings used to braid men’s hair. Those who made the documentary take this fact as a starting point to treat Art as a means to give power to a leader. This man may have come from central Europe and he had the figure of a great leader, he was big, his garments were rich, his weapons were important and the two golden rings on his hair may have been used as a symbol of power, gold was a symbol of prosperity and power. Scientists say that that man could have been the first to improve his appearance as a sign of power and to transmit his leadership, his dominance over others, perhaps he was the chief of a tribe.
It seems that since ancient times image played an important role in achieving power and inspiring credibility among the people depending on a chief, a king or a queen. They were so smart to find in Art the way to build up the impressive image they wanted, to be known in the remote parts of their kingdoms because they could not be there in live, they asked an artist to make a picture or a sculpture to be taken there representing the image they wanted to transmit. This is said about Alexander the Great. His empire was so large that he couldn’t be everywhere, so he found the solution in Art. He sent everywhere his image, showing decision, power, strong character and beauty.
The greatest leaders such as Queen Elizabeth II was pictures with rich dresses and jewellery and an important crown to show her country and colonies her power, and to make them believe she was there, as Alexander did. Many pharaohs had paintings on walls and sculptures so big that transmitted their great power to their subjects. They also used many jewellery made of gold to impress their people and to show gold as a powerful image, giving importance to them.
Augustus put special emphasis on his public image, his appearance to impress people in a different way. He was shown in his sculptures humbler and nicer than he really was. He began to change the way he combed his hair, he made it more plain to appear as any common man, trustful and without arrogance. He dressed like a general with a military waistcoat but with a robe covering his legs, he did not carry a sword, he had his right hand up in an attempt to address his people, and he was represented without crown and on bare feet to give the impression that he was a peaceful man. But in his real life he was all the contrary, he was a dictator, he was not nice, he was arrogant and had feasts with lots of food and fun while the people were hungry. He had produced his image just to cheat on people, and lie to them making them and all his empire believe what he was not.
Nowadays leaders as those from ancient times use the power of Art to impress people and to lie to them by creating a false image, with the advantage that nowadays they have a great allied on technology and what is more they have their own personal assessors, who advice them what to wear, what gestures to do, what to say or not to say, their attitudes are well appreciated to win elections if they kiss a poor child and other tricks. Actual leaders may not wear a crown or gold jewellery like the ancient ones but they are as smart as them in using Art to influence on people.
ART USED TO INFLUENCE AND LIE TO PEOPLE
I used to think about Art as a painting or a sculpture an artist makes in order to reflect his interior self, to show agreement or disagreement with a political system. I know that Art is part of the humankind since prehistoric times, such as the paintings on the cave’s walls. It had some mysterious, magic power to make their hunting abundant. The dictionary says that Art is :::”paintings, drawings, and sculptures that are created to be beautiful or to express ideas. But it does not say that people uses Art for other things apart from beauty.
Last week I was looking for an interesting programme on television, because I couldn’t sleep, and a documentary about art called my attention. It was on a new channel, called Encuentro. I was really surprised to listen a research on how people have used Art along the times as a means to get something from others. Art giving them power in ancient times and as a powerful strategy to cheat and to lie to people in modern times.
This function of Art was new to me. I never thought about the important function of art in a people’s life. Art, after all, isn’t as useless and valueless as many people think, because many intelligent people have learned how to make it useful to get what they want. I was tempted to change the channel on the television, but as I saw that Stonehenge was involved, it called my attention again.
Stonehenge is a mysterious place and scientists have given it a lot of explanations for its construction. Some say it functioned as a clock to mark the seasons for crops, others that it was so perfect a construction that the first ray of sun could enter at a certain point on the 21st of June , others that it was a temple were the druids gathered to prepare their magic drinks. Now there’ s another explanation derived from a recent discovery that some archaeologists have made near the site. They have found a skeleton and a pair of gold rings used to braid men’s hair. Those who made the documentary take this fact as a starting point to treat Art as a means to give power to a leader. This man may have come from central Europe and he had the figure of a great leader, he was big, his garments were rich, his weapons were important and the two golden rings on his hair may have been used as a symbol of power, gold was a symbol of prosperity and power. Scientists say that that man could have been the first to improve his appearance as a sign of power and to transmit his leadership, his dominance over others, perhaps he was the chief of a tribe.
It seems that since ancient times image played an important role in achieving power and inspiring credibility among the people depending on a chief, a king or a queen. They were so smart to find in Art the way to build up the impressive image they wanted, to be known in the remote parts of their kingdoms because they could not be there in live, they asked an artist to make a picture or a sculpture to be taken there representing the image they wanted to transmit. This is said about Alexander the Great. His empire was so large that he couldn’t be everywhere, so he found the solution in Art. He sent everywhere his image, showing decision, power, strong character and beauty.
The greatest leaders such as Queen Elizabeth II was pictures with rich dresses and jewellery and an important crown to show her country and colonies her power, and to make them believe she was there, as Alexander did. Many pharaohs had paintings on walls and sculptures so big that transmitted their great power to their subjects. They also used many jewellery made of gold to impress their people and to show gold as a powerful image, giving importance to them.
Augustus put special emphasis on his public image, his appearance to impress people in a different way. He was shown in his sculptures humbler and nicer than he really was. He began to change the way he combed his hair, he made it more plain to appear as any common man, trustful and without arrogance. He dressed like a general with a military waistcoat but with a robe covering his legs, he did not carry a sword, he had his right hand up in an attempt to address his people, and he was represented without crown and on bare feet to give the impression that he was a peaceful man. But in his real life he was all the contrary, he was a dictator, he was not nice, he was arrogant and had feasts with lots of food and fun while the people were hungry. He had produced his image just to cheat on people, and lie to them making them and all his empire believe what he was not.
Nowadays leaders as those from ancient times use the power of Art to impress people and to lie to them by creating a false image, with the advantage that nowadays they have a great allied on technology and what is more they have their own personal assessors, who advice them what to wear, what gestures to do, what to say or not to say, their attitudes are well appreciated to win elections if they kiss a poor child and other tricks. Actual leaders may not wear a crown or gold jewellery like the ancient ones but they are as smart as them in using Art to influence on people.
ENTRY 20- BLACK RAIN
Language 4. Entry Nª 20
BLACK RAIN ON MY TOWN
It is said that things look different, or as they really are when you take certain distance to appreciate the situation. It is true, I always get angry during the sugar cane harvest, because of the black ashes that fall like rain, and I have to clean the floors more or I got so stressed when one of that ashes gets into my eyes.
One day I had the chance to look at Banda del Rio Salí from the distance. My husband and I were taking some photos just to test the new camera, and he stopped the motorcycle at the top of the highway. Everything looked very small; the cars, the bridge, the houses. My husband took a picture of the bridge. I wanted to see the sugar cane factory chimney. I had to follow the dark grey smoke from the clouds to the bottom and it got confused with all the houses. At that moment I took notice that after a strong, long sound coming from the factory, a black rain began to fall over the town. The town looked so dirty, covered by that black curtain. I was lost in my thoughts about the ashes, my husband continued taking photos, when we heard the noise of a terrible burning. As preceding a storm, we heard a terrible explosion like a thunder, after that the noise of green leaves exploding into the air. Then big pieces of burnt sugar cane leaves were launched into the space crushing with the black ashes, they reached a certain height and they began to fall graciously, waving and landing on the roof of the houses, on the streets, on people’ s head without even apologising.
So leaving the poetic ironic terms, the black rain is composed of two elements, the black short dashes coming from the factory chimney and the black burnt pieces of sugar cane leaves, they are as big as ten centimetres.
The owners of the plantations find it easier, quicker and cheaper to set fire on the plantation instead of having men taking the leaves off from the plant. The owners only think on their own economic situation. They are not able to consider if they burn the electricity cables crossing over the plantations. The whole town is sometimes without electricity. What is worst, many hospitals are affected. They do not think that electricity could save a people’s life at an operation.
Not the owners of plantations nor the sugar cane factories take into consideration our environment. It’ s very expensive for them to install filters in order to reduce pollution. They use the sugar cane remains after they have taken the juice, to burn fire in order to make machines work. When the black ashes are free in the atmosphere, they look like menacing dashes, which could hit your eyes and hurt them causing problems in your vision. It is not enough for them, they also go into your nose and affect your respiratory system as well. Not to mention that your clothes and hair get dirtier than ever.
I really hate the time the months that the sugar cane harvesting takes place, on one hand because of the ashes, the black rain and on the other hand because the big trucks carrying the sugar cane because every season they cause accidents. I am not able to sleep without being afraid of them. I live half a block from the road where the trucks go all night and day. It is terrible when in my dreams I fell some kind of earthquake is moving my bed. I can hear the terrible noise of metal crushing at high speed, that I get crazy because I think it is the end of the world or a terrible earthquake. When I realize that it is an empty lorry coming at high speed, I get more calm.
BLACK RAIN ON MY TOWN
It is said that things look different, or as they really are when you take certain distance to appreciate the situation. It is true, I always get angry during the sugar cane harvest, because of the black ashes that fall like rain, and I have to clean the floors more or I got so stressed when one of that ashes gets into my eyes.
One day I had the chance to look at Banda del Rio Salí from the distance. My husband and I were taking some photos just to test the new camera, and he stopped the motorcycle at the top of the highway. Everything looked very small; the cars, the bridge, the houses. My husband took a picture of the bridge. I wanted to see the sugar cane factory chimney. I had to follow the dark grey smoke from the clouds to the bottom and it got confused with all the houses. At that moment I took notice that after a strong, long sound coming from the factory, a black rain began to fall over the town. The town looked so dirty, covered by that black curtain. I was lost in my thoughts about the ashes, my husband continued taking photos, when we heard the noise of a terrible burning. As preceding a storm, we heard a terrible explosion like a thunder, after that the noise of green leaves exploding into the air. Then big pieces of burnt sugar cane leaves were launched into the space crushing with the black ashes, they reached a certain height and they began to fall graciously, waving and landing on the roof of the houses, on the streets, on people’ s head without even apologising.
So leaving the poetic ironic terms, the black rain is composed of two elements, the black short dashes coming from the factory chimney and the black burnt pieces of sugar cane leaves, they are as big as ten centimetres.
The owners of the plantations find it easier, quicker and cheaper to set fire on the plantation instead of having men taking the leaves off from the plant. The owners only think on their own economic situation. They are not able to consider if they burn the electricity cables crossing over the plantations. The whole town is sometimes without electricity. What is worst, many hospitals are affected. They do not think that electricity could save a people’s life at an operation.
Not the owners of plantations nor the sugar cane factories take into consideration our environment. It’ s very expensive for them to install filters in order to reduce pollution. They use the sugar cane remains after they have taken the juice, to burn fire in order to make machines work. When the black ashes are free in the atmosphere, they look like menacing dashes, which could hit your eyes and hurt them causing problems in your vision. It is not enough for them, they also go into your nose and affect your respiratory system as well. Not to mention that your clothes and hair get dirtier than ever.
I really hate the time the months that the sugar cane harvesting takes place, on one hand because of the ashes, the black rain and on the other hand because the big trucks carrying the sugar cane because every season they cause accidents. I am not able to sleep without being afraid of them. I live half a block from the road where the trucks go all night and day. It is terrible when in my dreams I fell some kind of earthquake is moving my bed. I can hear the terrible noise of metal crushing at high speed, that I get crazy because I think it is the end of the world or a terrible earthquake. When I realize that it is an empty lorry coming at high speed, I get more calm.
ENTRY 19 BULLFIGTHING PICTURE
Language 4. Entry Nª 19
LOOKING AT A PICTURE OF CRAIGIE HORSEFIELD
I was interested on Art, so I looked at a magazine devoted to Art in America , May 2007, where some photographs by Craigie Horsefield called my attention. They appeared published in black and white. The critic of the magazine says that his photographs and videos are as visually absorbing as they are conceptually ambitious. He is not well known in his country, the USA but Horsefield’s achievement is that he printed very big photographs of 9 feet square from negatives dating back 30 year old. He believes that Art involves a “negotiation of language”, to say something through images.
Perhaps we have to interpret the artist’s purpose on painting or photographing but it happens very often that we cannot find the message, we cannot find the interpretation or intention of the artist. I also take photographs myself and some of them are to immortalize the beauty of a landscape, but most of the time they are of people who pose in an unnatural pose or gesture, at a party, for example. They are photographs to be valued in a future time.
At this moment I am looking at a picture from Horsefield called “Bull’s square. La Monumental”. It is in black and white. There is a black bull with its head bent menacing a bullfighter with its pointing horns. There are four bullfighters wearing the typical dress, opening their arms holding a piece of cloth that is usually red. The bull is surrounded and I think it is scared, it is angry, it does not understand that stupid sport, it is angry and ready to attack any of the bullfighters. If Art is the negotiation of language, perhaps it was what Horsefield wanted to say.
Personally, I do not like bullfighting at all because it is a rude and dangerous sport. Although bullfighters think they are so brave and a kind of hero to face the bull with just a piece of cloth and a spear. Bullfighting arena is like the Roman circus. Everything that happens in the arena is for the audience to have fun, no matter if someone dies. I do not like when the bullfighters wound the bull with spears. It is cruel, the poor animal dies from bleeding in the end. Sometimes a bullfighter gets wounded by the bull’s horns, and many have lost their lives in the arena, staining it with their blood.
I think that the photograph taken by Horsefiel is very effective. The image, although it shows the arena, the bull and the bullfighters, that is the principal characters, it transmits the feelings of the bull. He looks tired and scared, perhaps he does not want to wound or kill a bullfighter, but the men are so obsessive in making him angry that he probably will. The bull has been obliged to play a game he does not want to play. I think he would rather be eating grass with some cows very far from there. The bullfighters also look scared and very careful, looking at the bull and waiting for an unexpected attack. We can also imagine the crowd’s voice supporting the bullfighters.
LOOKING AT A PICTURE OF CRAIGIE HORSEFIELD
I was interested on Art, so I looked at a magazine devoted to Art in America , May 2007, where some photographs by Craigie Horsefield called my attention. They appeared published in black and white. The critic of the magazine says that his photographs and videos are as visually absorbing as they are conceptually ambitious. He is not well known in his country, the USA but Horsefield’s achievement is that he printed very big photographs of 9 feet square from negatives dating back 30 year old. He believes that Art involves a “negotiation of language”, to say something through images.
Perhaps we have to interpret the artist’s purpose on painting or photographing but it happens very often that we cannot find the message, we cannot find the interpretation or intention of the artist. I also take photographs myself and some of them are to immortalize the beauty of a landscape, but most of the time they are of people who pose in an unnatural pose or gesture, at a party, for example. They are photographs to be valued in a future time.
At this moment I am looking at a picture from Horsefield called “Bull’s square. La Monumental”. It is in black and white. There is a black bull with its head bent menacing a bullfighter with its pointing horns. There are four bullfighters wearing the typical dress, opening their arms holding a piece of cloth that is usually red. The bull is surrounded and I think it is scared, it is angry, it does not understand that stupid sport, it is angry and ready to attack any of the bullfighters. If Art is the negotiation of language, perhaps it was what Horsefield wanted to say.
Personally, I do not like bullfighting at all because it is a rude and dangerous sport. Although bullfighters think they are so brave and a kind of hero to face the bull with just a piece of cloth and a spear. Bullfighting arena is like the Roman circus. Everything that happens in the arena is for the audience to have fun, no matter if someone dies. I do not like when the bullfighters wound the bull with spears. It is cruel, the poor animal dies from bleeding in the end. Sometimes a bullfighter gets wounded by the bull’s horns, and many have lost their lives in the arena, staining it with their blood.
I think that the photograph taken by Horsefiel is very effective. The image, although it shows the arena, the bull and the bullfighters, that is the principal characters, it transmits the feelings of the bull. He looks tired and scared, perhaps he does not want to wound or kill a bullfighter, but the men are so obsessive in making him angry that he probably will. The bull has been obliged to play a game he does not want to play. I think he would rather be eating grass with some cows very far from there. The bullfighters also look scared and very careful, looking at the bull and waiting for an unexpected attack. We can also imagine the crowd’s voice supporting the bullfighters.
ENTRY 18- THE BAD GAUCHO
Languague 4 Entry Nª 18
The phantom of the bad “gaucho”
Many years ago in the recently founded “Los Perez”, when there was no television, no cars and no buses something violent happened. The place, my father told me, was founded by a pair of brothers sons of Russians immigrants whose surname was Peretz and for reasons of making the surname sound a little Spanish they lost the “t” and were called Perez. They had many hundreds and hundreds of hectares of land. Of course it was all covered by woods. The two brothers sold many portions to the first Spanish, Italian and Arabian immigrants. In a few years the woods were reduced to big portions of arable land with corn and sugar cane plantations.
There was only one storehouse where people could buy flour, sugar, salami, “mortadela”, candies, cookies with animal shapes, pasta, coffee, “yerba mate”, kerosene for the lamps, oil, cheese, tobacco and paper and of course wine. It was a very tall house made of bricks with a big wooden door and a wide wooden window which opened upwards as if it were a kind of roof. It was placed a few meters near the cemetery. A young couple with a young girl run the store. They were very nice but as at that time it was said that many “gauchos” were not peaceful, the man had a gun and a big knife, in case one of those renegades should try to brake into his store.
One evening two of these gauchos went to the store to buy something to eat and drink. Both of them were in dirty clothes, their hair was long and in a mess. One of them had many gold rings in his fingers. The owner knew that those rings had been taken from the people that man had killed. The owner sold them what they wanted but when they asked for a couple of glasses to drink there the man knowing that when these two brothers were drunk were very dangerous, he said he was sorry because his wife and little girl did not like seeing people drinking wine in the house. The two brothers paid, took their horses and rode to the path going north, leaving a thick cloud of dust in the air.
The owner of the store told his wife that he did not like those gauchos, that he had heard people talking bad things of them, that they had killed another man in another locality and that the sheriff was looking for them. He feared they would come that night for more wine so he prepared his shotgun near the door. When it was time to go to sleep, they blew off the last candle and went to bed.
People say that it was after midnight that the two renegades returned to the store.
“Knock, knock”. “we want more wine, open the door”.
The man and his wife woke up because of the noise at the door. The man did not answer.
The two brothers knocked harder this time
“Open! Open at this very mo,momet , I , I say “.
“They are drunk, they are dangerous, please do not open the door”
“I am not going to do that, I know they are drunk. Go to our daughter’s room and stay there”
“What are you going to do?”
“Pass me the torch, please. I want to look for the knife because I have the shotgun by my side, please go and comfort the little girl, she is crying”
The woman went to her daughter’s room in the half darkness and stayed there holding and comforting her.
“Knock, knock”, open you sun of a bitch. If you do not open we will crash the door, we will kill you and take your wife and your daughter with us.” This time the men turned violent and began to bump into the door.
“Go home, if you don’t I’ll kill you, I have a shotgun” The one with the gold rings said to the other:
“they must be scared , go to the back door, break the door, take the women. I will take care of this door.” Helped by the moonlight, the other man went to the back door and began to knock at it. The mother and the daughter were scared to death. Meanwhile the man at the front door took a big log and hit it with great force. The man inside the house was against the door holding it but with the force of the hit he stepped backwards with his gun in his hands. At the same time the back door was thrown down. The mother and her daughter were terrified in a corner of the room. They could not move, they could not help. The gaucho went in the dimness with long steps to help his brother who was struggling with the owner of the house. The man managed to put the shotgun on the gaucho’s belly and shot. At the same time the other brother stubbed the man with a knife in his back. When the killer saw his brother was dead and that the owner of the house was dead, he escaped in his horse.
When the sheriff came, he ordered to search for the fugitive. The two dead men were buried in the same cemetery. The man had a funeral ceremony with candles in the room where he was killed. He also had a coffin. The fingers of the gaucho had swollen so much that the coroner had to cut his fingers in order to take the gold rings off. He had been so cruel in his life that the sheriff ordered to bury him without a coffin. He was buried under a big “algarrobo” with a cross but without a memorial stone.
The widow and her daughter closed the store and left the locality. Nobody has heard from them again. But many people said that the poor man had been killed because the two women were so scared that they could not help him.
This was the end of the terrible renegade gaucho, who ended his days under a big tree and whose doomed devil soul turned into a white light called “the bad light”. When there is full moon this bad light goes up from the bottom of the big tree, raised through the branches of the tree and travels somewhere to a distant wooden place. People from the countryside say it is his soul that cannot find peace. They say that he is still a bad person because his bad light frightens everyone who has the bad chance to see it. The other brother, escaped but he was captured. He was found guilty of robbing cattle, murder of the owner of the store and he was sent to prison. He stayed in prison many years but when he left it, he formed a family and his surname which scared people just hearing it, for they knew that they were criminals and had no mercy with their victims, still exists. I do not include the surname because it is a well known one. But the story is true.
The phantom of the bad “gaucho”
Many years ago in the recently founded “Los Perez”, when there was no television, no cars and no buses something violent happened. The place, my father told me, was founded by a pair of brothers sons of Russians immigrants whose surname was Peretz and for reasons of making the surname sound a little Spanish they lost the “t” and were called Perez. They had many hundreds and hundreds of hectares of land. Of course it was all covered by woods. The two brothers sold many portions to the first Spanish, Italian and Arabian immigrants. In a few years the woods were reduced to big portions of arable land with corn and sugar cane plantations.
There was only one storehouse where people could buy flour, sugar, salami, “mortadela”, candies, cookies with animal shapes, pasta, coffee, “yerba mate”, kerosene for the lamps, oil, cheese, tobacco and paper and of course wine. It was a very tall house made of bricks with a big wooden door and a wide wooden window which opened upwards as if it were a kind of roof. It was placed a few meters near the cemetery. A young couple with a young girl run the store. They were very nice but as at that time it was said that many “gauchos” were not peaceful, the man had a gun and a big knife, in case one of those renegades should try to brake into his store.
One evening two of these gauchos went to the store to buy something to eat and drink. Both of them were in dirty clothes, their hair was long and in a mess. One of them had many gold rings in his fingers. The owner knew that those rings had been taken from the people that man had killed. The owner sold them what they wanted but when they asked for a couple of glasses to drink there the man knowing that when these two brothers were drunk were very dangerous, he said he was sorry because his wife and little girl did not like seeing people drinking wine in the house. The two brothers paid, took their horses and rode to the path going north, leaving a thick cloud of dust in the air.
The owner of the store told his wife that he did not like those gauchos, that he had heard people talking bad things of them, that they had killed another man in another locality and that the sheriff was looking for them. He feared they would come that night for more wine so he prepared his shotgun near the door. When it was time to go to sleep, they blew off the last candle and went to bed.
People say that it was after midnight that the two renegades returned to the store.
“Knock, knock”. “we want more wine, open the door”.
The man and his wife woke up because of the noise at the door. The man did not answer.
The two brothers knocked harder this time
“Open! Open at this very mo,momet , I , I say “.
“They are drunk, they are dangerous, please do not open the door”
“I am not going to do that, I know they are drunk. Go to our daughter’s room and stay there”
“What are you going to do?”
“Pass me the torch, please. I want to look for the knife because I have the shotgun by my side, please go and comfort the little girl, she is crying”
The woman went to her daughter’s room in the half darkness and stayed there holding and comforting her.
“Knock, knock”, open you sun of a bitch. If you do not open we will crash the door, we will kill you and take your wife and your daughter with us.” This time the men turned violent and began to bump into the door.
“Go home, if you don’t I’ll kill you, I have a shotgun” The one with the gold rings said to the other:
“they must be scared , go to the back door, break the door, take the women. I will take care of this door.” Helped by the moonlight, the other man went to the back door and began to knock at it. The mother and the daughter were scared to death. Meanwhile the man at the front door took a big log and hit it with great force. The man inside the house was against the door holding it but with the force of the hit he stepped backwards with his gun in his hands. At the same time the back door was thrown down. The mother and her daughter were terrified in a corner of the room. They could not move, they could not help. The gaucho went in the dimness with long steps to help his brother who was struggling with the owner of the house. The man managed to put the shotgun on the gaucho’s belly and shot. At the same time the other brother stubbed the man with a knife in his back. When the killer saw his brother was dead and that the owner of the house was dead, he escaped in his horse.
When the sheriff came, he ordered to search for the fugitive. The two dead men were buried in the same cemetery. The man had a funeral ceremony with candles in the room where he was killed. He also had a coffin. The fingers of the gaucho had swollen so much that the coroner had to cut his fingers in order to take the gold rings off. He had been so cruel in his life that the sheriff ordered to bury him without a coffin. He was buried under a big “algarrobo” with a cross but without a memorial stone.
The widow and her daughter closed the store and left the locality. Nobody has heard from them again. But many people said that the poor man had been killed because the two women were so scared that they could not help him.
This was the end of the terrible renegade gaucho, who ended his days under a big tree and whose doomed devil soul turned into a white light called “the bad light”. When there is full moon this bad light goes up from the bottom of the big tree, raised through the branches of the tree and travels somewhere to a distant wooden place. People from the countryside say it is his soul that cannot find peace. They say that he is still a bad person because his bad light frightens everyone who has the bad chance to see it. The other brother, escaped but he was captured. He was found guilty of robbing cattle, murder of the owner of the store and he was sent to prison. He stayed in prison many years but when he left it, he formed a family and his surname which scared people just hearing it, for they knew that they were criminals and had no mercy with their victims, still exists. I do not include the surname because it is a well known one. But the story is true.
ENTRY 17- TEARS
Language 4 Entry Nª 17
TEARS ARE AN UNNECESSARY EXPRESION OF EMOTION.
Since we are born, crying is the first manifestation of life we have in contact with the new world. Throughout our life tears have different tastes and causes. From my point of view, tear are the real expression of our different emotions, such as happiness, sadness, hatred and pain. They happen at all times although many people who are tied to old traditions may say that tears and crying are only for women and not for men.
To begin with, when we are just born, the first thing we do is cry. Of course, at that time babies do not have tears yet. At the moment of birth, crying is so important that if a baby does not do so, it means that there is something wrong with its health. Doctors give a soft slap on the baby’s buttocks. They expect the baby will react crying, consequently, it is in good health. When the baby’ s mother shows tears in her eyes is because of emotion, she is happy the baby’s health is ok. Later on when the baby has tears in his eyes, he uses them to call the mother’s attention because they cannot talk to ask for milk or food, or to say that he is dirty.
Secondly, the latest advances in psychology have proved, based on lots of evidences, that crying and tears can diminish stress with a potential benefit to the nervous system and to the heart. To illustrate this many people think that the worst thing to do is to swallow our tears. They begin to feel a pain in their chests with consequences in their hearts. So the best thing to do, if we have a problem or a pain, is to let our tears to flow from our eyes. Of course, the problem and the pain will not disappear but one thing is certain, the pain in your chest will ease and the stress will release a bit.
Thirdly, from a cultural point of view, crying and showing tears in public is seen as a symbol of weakness, specially when young and old men cry. There is a deeply rooted belief that only women should cry, that it is their stuff. But recently, this cultural burden is changing. An example of this is the fact that many famous people have started to show their emotion through tears in public, because of happiness when they are awarded a prize, when they are sad, or when they are angry or disappointed when they lose a match. In consequence, if world famous people do cry, and are not ashamed of that, why should not common men do the same?
Taking these points into consideration, I would say that tears and crying are not an unnecessary expression of emotion at all. Tears, as well as breathing, when we are born, are the first expression of life. Tears and emotions go together, they express triumph, defeat, anger or sadness. In the end it means that human beings men or women are provided with feelings, they are not robots, they are not as cold and indifferent as a machine. And swallowing our tears may bring us a lot of stress and heart and nervous problems.
TEARS ARE AN UNNECESSARY EXPRESION OF EMOTION.
Since we are born, crying is the first manifestation of life we have in contact with the new world. Throughout our life tears have different tastes and causes. From my point of view, tear are the real expression of our different emotions, such as happiness, sadness, hatred and pain. They happen at all times although many people who are tied to old traditions may say that tears and crying are only for women and not for men.
To begin with, when we are just born, the first thing we do is cry. Of course, at that time babies do not have tears yet. At the moment of birth, crying is so important that if a baby does not do so, it means that there is something wrong with its health. Doctors give a soft slap on the baby’s buttocks. They expect the baby will react crying, consequently, it is in good health. When the baby’ s mother shows tears in her eyes is because of emotion, she is happy the baby’s health is ok. Later on when the baby has tears in his eyes, he uses them to call the mother’s attention because they cannot talk to ask for milk or food, or to say that he is dirty.
Secondly, the latest advances in psychology have proved, based on lots of evidences, that crying and tears can diminish stress with a potential benefit to the nervous system and to the heart. To illustrate this many people think that the worst thing to do is to swallow our tears. They begin to feel a pain in their chests with consequences in their hearts. So the best thing to do, if we have a problem or a pain, is to let our tears to flow from our eyes. Of course, the problem and the pain will not disappear but one thing is certain, the pain in your chest will ease and the stress will release a bit.
Thirdly, from a cultural point of view, crying and showing tears in public is seen as a symbol of weakness, specially when young and old men cry. There is a deeply rooted belief that only women should cry, that it is their stuff. But recently, this cultural burden is changing. An example of this is the fact that many famous people have started to show their emotion through tears in public, because of happiness when they are awarded a prize, when they are sad, or when they are angry or disappointed when they lose a match. In consequence, if world famous people do cry, and are not ashamed of that, why should not common men do the same?
Taking these points into consideration, I would say that tears and crying are not an unnecessary expression of emotion at all. Tears, as well as breathing, when we are born, are the first expression of life. Tears and emotions go together, they express triumph, defeat, anger or sadness. In the end it means that human beings men or women are provided with feelings, they are not robots, they are not as cold and indifferent as a machine. And swallowing our tears may bring us a lot of stress and heart and nervous problems.
ENTRY 16- MY MOTHER
Language 4 Entry Nª 16
MY MOTHER
Her name was Maria. She was tall and had a very long straight brown hair that sometimes she braided in one plait and she looked like a Spanish flamenco dancer. I think her ancestors were descendants had Spanish blood. She had big brown eyes.
Her mother made her marry my father when she was almost a child. She was fourteen then. It was the time when daughters obeyed the disposition of their parents. She was very intelligent although she did not finish school. Now I realize she had many incomplete facts in her life. She wanted to go on studying and become a school teacher but she had to marry and have children. In fact, she had three, two daughters and a son. She could not marry wearing a wedding dress, she and my father had the civil ceremony only and they were married when their first daughter was baptized.
She could not even choose our godparents, her mother imposed them because they were their friends. Once she told me that she had never made the first communion because she did not have a white dress. And I do not know even if she was baptized, because I never asked her.
I know she suffered a lot. She did not have a friend in her mother. She loved one of her aunts very much and she lived with that aunt when she was a teenager. Her name was Micaela, and she taught my mother many good things. At that time my mother discovered that she was very skilful with her hands. Aunt Micaela taught her how to make dresses, embroidery and knitting, which were very useful for a married woman at that time.
I know my grandmother got very angry and jealous about aunt Micaela because she was giving my mum what she could not. They had a quarrel and my mum returned to her parent’s home. Since then, my grandmother always hated aunt Micaela for trying to take her role as a mother. I do not know what happened to my grandma, why she did not care much about my mum, perhaps she did not know how to raise a girl, because she had four sons and my mother was the only girl.
After that incident my grandmother never spoke to aunt Micaela who was my grandfather’s niece, until my mother died. That day they cried together.
My mother suffered for three years from pain on her hands. Doctors said it was arthritis, then she was diagnosed lupus. I did not know that it was a terminal disease, or perhaps I did not want to know. A year before she died I had a terrible dream, in the dream she was dead and it came true. Two days before she died an awful dark green humming bird came through the window and played a dreadful deathly dance on her stomach and went away. Since then I hate those birds. She was very thin due to the cancer affection. She could not walk by herself. I remember that my father very patient took her by her arm to go to the toilet. She did not want to eat. She had her brain in a good state. Now that I remember her little body in the coffin I cry, I cannot avoid this feeling, because she was very young, she was thirty nine. Although there was a lot of people there, I felt so lonely. I felt that she had gone somewhere and she would return next day but she didn’t. it is so painful to me to write this, but I have to. When the roosters sang early in the following morning I woke up thinking she was at home alive. But the candles’ light reminded me her death. I could not find comfort when the priest said she was in heaven now. I wanted her by my side. I was so shocked with her death that I could not cry, may be some people thought I did not love her. But I got ill after she was buried. It affected my nerves and I had the obsessive certainty that I would find her in the kitchen making the breakfast. I used to listen to footsteps coming from a door, and I thought it was her, but it was another person. My grandmother stayed with us for three months and during that time we tried to remember her with a smile but most of the time we cried without consolation because she was not there to share with us. I only pray to God and ask him that if my mum has suffered a lot in her life, in this world, could he please, give her the reward to forbid whatever sins she had and could she rest in peace. She is not alive, but she is always present in my dreams and when my sister and I remember her.
MY MOTHER
Her name was Maria. She was tall and had a very long straight brown hair that sometimes she braided in one plait and she looked like a Spanish flamenco dancer. I think her ancestors were descendants had Spanish blood. She had big brown eyes.
Her mother made her marry my father when she was almost a child. She was fourteen then. It was the time when daughters obeyed the disposition of their parents. She was very intelligent although she did not finish school. Now I realize she had many incomplete facts in her life. She wanted to go on studying and become a school teacher but she had to marry and have children. In fact, she had three, two daughters and a son. She could not marry wearing a wedding dress, she and my father had the civil ceremony only and they were married when their first daughter was baptized.
She could not even choose our godparents, her mother imposed them because they were their friends. Once she told me that she had never made the first communion because she did not have a white dress. And I do not know even if she was baptized, because I never asked her.
I know she suffered a lot. She did not have a friend in her mother. She loved one of her aunts very much and she lived with that aunt when she was a teenager. Her name was Micaela, and she taught my mother many good things. At that time my mother discovered that she was very skilful with her hands. Aunt Micaela taught her how to make dresses, embroidery and knitting, which were very useful for a married woman at that time.
I know my grandmother got very angry and jealous about aunt Micaela because she was giving my mum what she could not. They had a quarrel and my mum returned to her parent’s home. Since then, my grandmother always hated aunt Micaela for trying to take her role as a mother. I do not know what happened to my grandma, why she did not care much about my mum, perhaps she did not know how to raise a girl, because she had four sons and my mother was the only girl.
After that incident my grandmother never spoke to aunt Micaela who was my grandfather’s niece, until my mother died. That day they cried together.
My mother suffered for three years from pain on her hands. Doctors said it was arthritis, then she was diagnosed lupus. I did not know that it was a terminal disease, or perhaps I did not want to know. A year before she died I had a terrible dream, in the dream she was dead and it came true. Two days before she died an awful dark green humming bird came through the window and played a dreadful deathly dance on her stomach and went away. Since then I hate those birds. She was very thin due to the cancer affection. She could not walk by herself. I remember that my father very patient took her by her arm to go to the toilet. She did not want to eat. She had her brain in a good state. Now that I remember her little body in the coffin I cry, I cannot avoid this feeling, because she was very young, she was thirty nine. Although there was a lot of people there, I felt so lonely. I felt that she had gone somewhere and she would return next day but she didn’t. it is so painful to me to write this, but I have to. When the roosters sang early in the following morning I woke up thinking she was at home alive. But the candles’ light reminded me her death. I could not find comfort when the priest said she was in heaven now. I wanted her by my side. I was so shocked with her death that I could not cry, may be some people thought I did not love her. But I got ill after she was buried. It affected my nerves and I had the obsessive certainty that I would find her in the kitchen making the breakfast. I used to listen to footsteps coming from a door, and I thought it was her, but it was another person. My grandmother stayed with us for three months and during that time we tried to remember her with a smile but most of the time we cried without consolation because she was not there to share with us. I only pray to God and ask him that if my mum has suffered a lot in her life, in this world, could he please, give her the reward to forbid whatever sins she had and could she rest in peace. She is not alive, but she is always present in my dreams and when my sister and I remember her.
ENTRY 15- KILLING OF ANIMALS
Language 4 Entry Nª 15
THE KILLING OF ANIMALS FOR THEIR SKIN
A matter of great controversy nowadays is the killing of animals for their skin. Many animals have valuable skins to make clothes, such as foxes, minks, martens, rabbits and even snakes and crocodiles.
These animals are killed in order to make scarves, coats, hats, belts, shoes and handbags. Many people argue that it is all right to do it because of fashion, distinction or status, etc. But many others claim that it is unfair and cruel, moreover,they are against the governmental new policies for the raise of such animals and specially minks, for their skin.
On the one hand, those who are in favour of making coats from animals’ furs say it is all right and fashionable. People wearing mink coats look impressive, wealthy and important. Authentic fur coats are very expensive so only wealthy people can buy one. They fell mink gives them high status, a label of wealth , a symbol of power and money. For those who can afford authentic fur, it is a mater of distinction, because not everybody has the money to purchase a fur coat.
It is also important to wear the original, not an imitation. It happens the same with jewels. It is always better to have a real gold ring or a diamond collar than fake ones. In the past it used to be the tendency that women and men should wear fur coats. Many artists, male and female wore them. Clothes made from animal skins are more available now than many years before. This is thanks to the government authorities who have approved a policy which encourages small enterprises to raise animals such as mink and rabbits for their skin. In this case,wearing a mink coat or a rabbit hat or scarf, some people think, is not offensive. They argue that they are not interfering with the environment, and they are not putting in danger of extintion those animals, because there are specialized farms which provide them. Thanks to this policy many enterprisers have been given the chance to earn a lot of money, and the government gets a lot of benefits as well.
On the other hand, there are those who are against the killing of animals for their skin. Because in order to make a single coat, many animals have to be killed. Fashion in this case is associated with murder, insensibility and indifference. Besides, the government’s approval of the raising of such animals for their skins is unfair and cruel. There is no concern for the lives and suffering of poor animals whose only sin is to have such wealthy beautiful furs. Unfortunately, authorities only have taken into account economic profit. In consequence, those who buy authentic minks are accomplices of those who murder the poor little animals. It is important to remark that thanks to technology, we can afford fake fur coats without affecting the environment or causing the death of many animals just for a single coat or for a matter of distinction.
All things considered, it is time to admit that wearing a fur coat does not mean we are better, more important or more distinguished than other people. In my opinion the life of that animals should be respected, not necessarily as human beings but as living creatures and as a means of company to human beings, or just as part of a natural environment. Apart from that, I suggest the government should abolish the policy supporting the breeding of animals for their skin. I also suggest that people should ear fake coats instead because they look like real ones, they are easier to clean, cheaper to buy and also because we should leave animals in peace. We are no more in the prehistoric age when men and women had the necessity to make their coats with the furs of animals they used to kill to eat their meat. They were more civilized than we are now because they were really conscious and careful in keeping a certain balance in nature, and they killed just to eat.
THE KILLING OF ANIMALS FOR THEIR SKIN
A matter of great controversy nowadays is the killing of animals for their skin. Many animals have valuable skins to make clothes, such as foxes, minks, martens, rabbits and even snakes and crocodiles.
These animals are killed in order to make scarves, coats, hats, belts, shoes and handbags. Many people argue that it is all right to do it because of fashion, distinction or status, etc. But many others claim that it is unfair and cruel, moreover,they are against the governmental new policies for the raise of such animals and specially minks, for their skin.
On the one hand, those who are in favour of making coats from animals’ furs say it is all right and fashionable. People wearing mink coats look impressive, wealthy and important. Authentic fur coats are very expensive so only wealthy people can buy one. They fell mink gives them high status, a label of wealth , a symbol of power and money. For those who can afford authentic fur, it is a mater of distinction, because not everybody has the money to purchase a fur coat.
It is also important to wear the original, not an imitation. It happens the same with jewels. It is always better to have a real gold ring or a diamond collar than fake ones. In the past it used to be the tendency that women and men should wear fur coats. Many artists, male and female wore them. Clothes made from animal skins are more available now than many years before. This is thanks to the government authorities who have approved a policy which encourages small enterprises to raise animals such as mink and rabbits for their skin. In this case,wearing a mink coat or a rabbit hat or scarf, some people think, is not offensive. They argue that they are not interfering with the environment, and they are not putting in danger of extintion those animals, because there are specialized farms which provide them. Thanks to this policy many enterprisers have been given the chance to earn a lot of money, and the government gets a lot of benefits as well.
On the other hand, there are those who are against the killing of animals for their skin. Because in order to make a single coat, many animals have to be killed. Fashion in this case is associated with murder, insensibility and indifference. Besides, the government’s approval of the raising of such animals for their skins is unfair and cruel. There is no concern for the lives and suffering of poor animals whose only sin is to have such wealthy beautiful furs. Unfortunately, authorities only have taken into account economic profit. In consequence, those who buy authentic minks are accomplices of those who murder the poor little animals. It is important to remark that thanks to technology, we can afford fake fur coats without affecting the environment or causing the death of many animals just for a single coat or for a matter of distinction.
All things considered, it is time to admit that wearing a fur coat does not mean we are better, more important or more distinguished than other people. In my opinion the life of that animals should be respected, not necessarily as human beings but as living creatures and as a means of company to human beings, or just as part of a natural environment. Apart from that, I suggest the government should abolish the policy supporting the breeding of animals for their skin. I also suggest that people should ear fake coats instead because they look like real ones, they are easier to clean, cheaper to buy and also because we should leave animals in peace. We are no more in the prehistoric age when men and women had the necessity to make their coats with the furs of animals they used to kill to eat their meat. They were more civilized than we are now because they were really conscious and careful in keeping a certain balance in nature, and they killed just to eat.
ENTRY 14- SALT
Language 4 Entry Nª 14
SALT
Salt is a well known and a very common mineral. It is white, and essential for cooking and giving a good taste to food. Many people would think that salt is a topic of less importance to talk about. But if we stop for a moment to think and analyse and also investigate about its origin, the important part it played in history and its effects on our health, we will surely change our opinion about salt.
Salt is insignificant in appearance but our life depends on salt as much as on water or oxygen. It was used as money in Tibet, Ethiopia and Rome. It was and it is commercialised in the Arabian dessert in conical shaped bars and it is expensive there. Selling salt in the dessert was a way of earning some money for certain members of a tribe and they used their camels for the transportation. But as many vehicles were introduced, delivering salt has turned quicker and cheaper. People carrying the salt on their camels almost lost their jobs.
Egyptians used to preserve their mummies in a solution of salt. So the combination of salt and the dry weather made it possible for many mummies to survive and be in a perfect state telling more about the ancient history of this mysterious and attractive civilization.
When there were no fridges many years ago, people used to preserve fish and meat covered with salt. Moreover the tasty bacon is prepared with a nice piece of pork leg with its skin and fat and some meat and covered with a thick layer of salt for many days, then the salt is taken away and more salt has to be added. So after some time bacon is ready to be eaten. That is the way my grandfather and father used to prepare it.
When Julius Caesar conquered Great Britain, he was interested not only in the country itself but also in the deposits of salt there. Salt was so important that Caesar used to pay his soldiers in salt, in consequence the word “salary” or “salarium”, comes from the word “salt”.
Salt, it is said has its magical properties. There is a belief that witches are afraid of salt. So if a person wanted to defeat a witch, he had to spread salt forming a kind of circle with it, and he had to put the affected person in the middle of the ring, when the witch or wizard saw it he or she immediately flied away. It was also used in rituals in the Greek, Roman, Hebrew and Christian civilization.
There exists a superstition in some countries: it says that if you spill salt accidentally, it is considered of bad luck, and in order to counteract it you have to throw a pinch of salt over your shoulder.
There are many deposits of salt, the biggest is in Bolivia. There is one in Tucuman in Departamento Burruyacu. Salt is also present in the sea water and on certain rocks. There are two methods for the extraction of salt: by evaporation and by boiling it. People working in the salt fields say it is an unhealthy job because the salt combined with the brilliant sunlight affects their eyes, and may of them complain about affections in their kidneys.
As everything in life is not perfect, the overuse of salt in foods may affect our heart and kidneys; and it is a great enemy of high-blood pressure. That is why people suffering from high-blood pressure have to use salt from celery, light salt and salt from algae.
Life and food without salt are tasteless. We should give it the importance it deserves and use it rationally, as everything on earth.
Sayings related to salt:
“To rub salt in a wound” ; means to do or say something that makes someone who already feels bad, feel worse.
“To take something with a pinch of salt “ : means to doubt the truth or value of something, for example : to take and advise or a criticism with a pinch of salt.
SALT
Salt is a well known and a very common mineral. It is white, and essential for cooking and giving a good taste to food. Many people would think that salt is a topic of less importance to talk about. But if we stop for a moment to think and analyse and also investigate about its origin, the important part it played in history and its effects on our health, we will surely change our opinion about salt.
Salt is insignificant in appearance but our life depends on salt as much as on water or oxygen. It was used as money in Tibet, Ethiopia and Rome. It was and it is commercialised in the Arabian dessert in conical shaped bars and it is expensive there. Selling salt in the dessert was a way of earning some money for certain members of a tribe and they used their camels for the transportation. But as many vehicles were introduced, delivering salt has turned quicker and cheaper. People carrying the salt on their camels almost lost their jobs.
Egyptians used to preserve their mummies in a solution of salt. So the combination of salt and the dry weather made it possible for many mummies to survive and be in a perfect state telling more about the ancient history of this mysterious and attractive civilization.
When there were no fridges many years ago, people used to preserve fish and meat covered with salt. Moreover the tasty bacon is prepared with a nice piece of pork leg with its skin and fat and some meat and covered with a thick layer of salt for many days, then the salt is taken away and more salt has to be added. So after some time bacon is ready to be eaten. That is the way my grandfather and father used to prepare it.
When Julius Caesar conquered Great Britain, he was interested not only in the country itself but also in the deposits of salt there. Salt was so important that Caesar used to pay his soldiers in salt, in consequence the word “salary” or “salarium”, comes from the word “salt”.
Salt, it is said has its magical properties. There is a belief that witches are afraid of salt. So if a person wanted to defeat a witch, he had to spread salt forming a kind of circle with it, and he had to put the affected person in the middle of the ring, when the witch or wizard saw it he or she immediately flied away. It was also used in rituals in the Greek, Roman, Hebrew and Christian civilization.
There exists a superstition in some countries: it says that if you spill salt accidentally, it is considered of bad luck, and in order to counteract it you have to throw a pinch of salt over your shoulder.
There are many deposits of salt, the biggest is in Bolivia. There is one in Tucuman in Departamento Burruyacu. Salt is also present in the sea water and on certain rocks. There are two methods for the extraction of salt: by evaporation and by boiling it. People working in the salt fields say it is an unhealthy job because the salt combined with the brilliant sunlight affects their eyes, and may of them complain about affections in their kidneys.
As everything in life is not perfect, the overuse of salt in foods may affect our heart and kidneys; and it is a great enemy of high-blood pressure. That is why people suffering from high-blood pressure have to use salt from celery, light salt and salt from algae.
Life and food without salt are tasteless. We should give it the importance it deserves and use it rationally, as everything on earth.
Sayings related to salt:
“To rub salt in a wound” ; means to do or say something that makes someone who already feels bad, feel worse.
“To take something with a pinch of salt “ : means to doubt the truth or value of something, for example : to take and advise or a criticism with a pinch of salt.
ENTRY 13- TELEVISION
Language 4 Entry Nª 13
TELEVISION IS DOING IRREPARABLE HARM
Since 1920 when Baird invented television it has evolved very quickly until now. Therefore , its influence has spread and changed our lives in such a way that in many cases it is doing irreparable harm, but, in other cases, it is a kind of help. It all has to do with a matter of self limit, control and parental guidance.
To begin with, we need television to be well informed. Some people say that it is not the same to listening to the news on the radio than watching them on television with the support of images. But in this matter technology has gone too far, because we are allowed to see a war going on, with real people dying. This is thanks to the help of satellite images. Watching certain programmes is good for our general knowledge, it is a kind of entertainment for people who cannot travel. Thus, through documentaries people can make a trip wherever they want through the images television provides. If television is used in the right way we can learn a lot from documentaries, for example about other cultures, traditions and beliefs.
Regarding children and adolescents is another chapter. Parents are the ones who have the responsibility to check what their children see on television. It is very difficult for parents nowadays to do so because of cable television and the so called porno channels which are at the children’s hand. All the same if children do not watch porno channels they are exposed to so much violence in the series they see, and some programmes which have become famous because they show porno images during the day or the evening, such as the programme of Tinelli, and the “baile del caño”, which provoked a considerable raise in the audience at that time. He definitely is a bad example in our society. He is in the media, because he produces a lot of money paying fines for the rubbish he shows. Moreover, he laughs at people, he makes fun of people in their own nose and stupid people do not take notice of that. If they do , may be they like to be shown as clowns, because they will be given a lot of money for their shameful performance.
In these days we see many coach potatoes among adolescents and children. They spend a lot of time in front of the television, that it brings secondary effects to them, such as fat, bad blood circulation, vision problems, and the sense that they can get everything with magic, or that violence is all right. They are passive, lazy and they do not have time to do homework. They do not have time to play, or to talk to other children as well. Not only children, but also grown ups, prefer to watch television and live other people’s stories in unreal world. The facts happening in a soap opera is a matter or comment afterwards, and nowadays not only women are addicted to soap operas, but also men.
To conclude, television can be compared with drugs. If it is used in the wrong way it is harmful and can cause irreparable harm. If the government authorities do not take care of the children’s well being, may be it is time parents and teachers should restrict programmes, impose moderation and make them realize which is a good programme or which is rubbish, harmful for their mind.
TELEVISION IS DOING IRREPARABLE HARM
Since 1920 when Baird invented television it has evolved very quickly until now. Therefore , its influence has spread and changed our lives in such a way that in many cases it is doing irreparable harm, but, in other cases, it is a kind of help. It all has to do with a matter of self limit, control and parental guidance.
To begin with, we need television to be well informed. Some people say that it is not the same to listening to the news on the radio than watching them on television with the support of images. But in this matter technology has gone too far, because we are allowed to see a war going on, with real people dying. This is thanks to the help of satellite images. Watching certain programmes is good for our general knowledge, it is a kind of entertainment for people who cannot travel. Thus, through documentaries people can make a trip wherever they want through the images television provides. If television is used in the right way we can learn a lot from documentaries, for example about other cultures, traditions and beliefs.
Regarding children and adolescents is another chapter. Parents are the ones who have the responsibility to check what their children see on television. It is very difficult for parents nowadays to do so because of cable television and the so called porno channels which are at the children’s hand. All the same if children do not watch porno channels they are exposed to so much violence in the series they see, and some programmes which have become famous because they show porno images during the day or the evening, such as the programme of Tinelli, and the “baile del caño”, which provoked a considerable raise in the audience at that time. He definitely is a bad example in our society. He is in the media, because he produces a lot of money paying fines for the rubbish he shows. Moreover, he laughs at people, he makes fun of people in their own nose and stupid people do not take notice of that. If they do , may be they like to be shown as clowns, because they will be given a lot of money for their shameful performance.
In these days we see many coach potatoes among adolescents and children. They spend a lot of time in front of the television, that it brings secondary effects to them, such as fat, bad blood circulation, vision problems, and the sense that they can get everything with magic, or that violence is all right. They are passive, lazy and they do not have time to do homework. They do not have time to play, or to talk to other children as well. Not only children, but also grown ups, prefer to watch television and live other people’s stories in unreal world. The facts happening in a soap opera is a matter or comment afterwards, and nowadays not only women are addicted to soap operas, but also men.
To conclude, television can be compared with drugs. If it is used in the wrong way it is harmful and can cause irreparable harm. If the government authorities do not take care of the children’s well being, may be it is time parents and teachers should restrict programmes, impose moderation and make them realize which is a good programme or which is rubbish, harmful for their mind.
ENTRY 12- THE MAN UNDER THE TREE
Language 4 Entry Nª-12
THE MAN UNDER THE TREE
He is part of the park. He is always camping under the same tree. He is part of the environment with his many plastic bags full of… I don’t know what he carries in those dirty bags, five, may be six. Perhaps the bags are full of old clothes, and elements to cook. A few plastic bottles full of water to drink or cook.
He is anonymous and he is part of the landscape. He is rather stout, not very short, he has clear skin and baldness has bean to appear in his forehead. His hair is turning grey. Perhaps he is in his early fifties.
Whenever I see him he is busy making fire. He puts a kettle on it. Sometimes I see him when he is having breakfast, sometimes when he is cooking. One day I was surprised when I saw him shaving himself with a round yellow mirror on one hand and a yellow disposable razor on the other.
He looks clean and he walks with his hands in his jacket pockets, under the tree. It is his tree, his roof, his home. Whenever he wants he transforms the shadow of the immense tree in a bedroom, and he piles all his plastic bags to make a mattress and he has a snap. I saw him once or twice especially in summer, having a snap, with his hands under his neck, sometimes with a cap on his face, and careless of what the people passing by could think.
Sometimes he is engaged in a conversation with himself. He is never doing nothing. I think he talks to the tree, it is his trustful friend, his home, his family, the one who understands him and the one who will not betray or deny some kind of comfort for his pains.
I don’t know where hegoes when it rains or when it is very cold. One day I was travelling by bus from the Central Bus Station and I looked at the park through the bus window and it looked particularly beautiful that friday morning. The picture was like a postcard from England for all the farthest trees were covered with a greyish foggy veil that could reach the clouds, the sky. The nearest trees were all crowned with a dark smog of microscopic drops of water that never fell to the grass. The morning was cold and I imagined that he would not be there because of the cold weather, but he was there, as always, under the tree, trying to make some fire with wet logs and leaves, trying to prepare a late breakfast, without caring about others who look at him as an outcast, some people look at him indifferent. He seems to be living on an island, he made me remember of the island of Lord of the Flies, when the children try to make some fire after the storm with wet logs.
I don’t know whether he takes into account what date is it today, he doesn’t look as stressed people look like when living in a hurry, and trying to get money to pay the electricity or phone bills.
When I don’ t see him, I miss him, and I look for this man without a name under the trees along the avenue. I got accustomed to see the strange little figure of that man without a family, without nothing, except himself. Perhaps he is so unlucky that he has lost a part of himself, his dignity of a past prosperous life broken by a bad investment, a rupture with his family, may be the Bank has taken all his possessions and the turned a vagabound. I think he has also lost part of his mind. It seems that the few meters around the tree is the area of his island with only one tree. He has began to talk to himself like Robinson Crusoe so as he could not lose the ability to talk.
At the beginning when I first took notice of him, I felt sorry because I imagined a terrible, unlucky past that almost made him get mad. I felt that he hated humanity for his misfortune. As time passed, I discovered by looking him through the bus window, some attitudes about him that made change my mind. I think he’s there not to make us feel compassion, but he is there because he is happy, or happier than with his pas life. He feels free as the birds, which live in the park, sharing the trees, the benches, the fountain, the shadows, the rain and the cold. He is free as the geese which swim in the artificial lake, free as the falling tree leaves which can go wherever the autumn wind blows.
P.S. it was almost midday when I was coming from the city and I saw him in interaction with other people. A group of students were laughing at his bags, he immediately went there and told them something I couldn’t hear. He felt offended and he rescued his bags.
I got interested on him because I know there is a sad story in his life, I will try to ask someone from the surroundings during the winter holidays, about his life. I don’t think I could speak to him and ask :”why do you live in that way? What happened in your past that made you end like this? Or is it that you escaped from a mental hospital and nobody cares?” I ‘m afraid he could be rude to me.
THE MAN UNDER THE TREE
He is part of the park. He is always camping under the same tree. He is part of the environment with his many plastic bags full of… I don’t know what he carries in those dirty bags, five, may be six. Perhaps the bags are full of old clothes, and elements to cook. A few plastic bottles full of water to drink or cook.
He is anonymous and he is part of the landscape. He is rather stout, not very short, he has clear skin and baldness has bean to appear in his forehead. His hair is turning grey. Perhaps he is in his early fifties.
Whenever I see him he is busy making fire. He puts a kettle on it. Sometimes I see him when he is having breakfast, sometimes when he is cooking. One day I was surprised when I saw him shaving himself with a round yellow mirror on one hand and a yellow disposable razor on the other.
He looks clean and he walks with his hands in his jacket pockets, under the tree. It is his tree, his roof, his home. Whenever he wants he transforms the shadow of the immense tree in a bedroom, and he piles all his plastic bags to make a mattress and he has a snap. I saw him once or twice especially in summer, having a snap, with his hands under his neck, sometimes with a cap on his face, and careless of what the people passing by could think.
Sometimes he is engaged in a conversation with himself. He is never doing nothing. I think he talks to the tree, it is his trustful friend, his home, his family, the one who understands him and the one who will not betray or deny some kind of comfort for his pains.
I don’t know where hegoes when it rains or when it is very cold. One day I was travelling by bus from the Central Bus Station and I looked at the park through the bus window and it looked particularly beautiful that friday morning. The picture was like a postcard from England for all the farthest trees were covered with a greyish foggy veil that could reach the clouds, the sky. The nearest trees were all crowned with a dark smog of microscopic drops of water that never fell to the grass. The morning was cold and I imagined that he would not be there because of the cold weather, but he was there, as always, under the tree, trying to make some fire with wet logs and leaves, trying to prepare a late breakfast, without caring about others who look at him as an outcast, some people look at him indifferent. He seems to be living on an island, he made me remember of the island of Lord of the Flies, when the children try to make some fire after the storm with wet logs.
I don’t know whether he takes into account what date is it today, he doesn’t look as stressed people look like when living in a hurry, and trying to get money to pay the electricity or phone bills.
When I don’ t see him, I miss him, and I look for this man without a name under the trees along the avenue. I got accustomed to see the strange little figure of that man without a family, without nothing, except himself. Perhaps he is so unlucky that he has lost a part of himself, his dignity of a past prosperous life broken by a bad investment, a rupture with his family, may be the Bank has taken all his possessions and the turned a vagabound. I think he has also lost part of his mind. It seems that the few meters around the tree is the area of his island with only one tree. He has began to talk to himself like Robinson Crusoe so as he could not lose the ability to talk.
At the beginning when I first took notice of him, I felt sorry because I imagined a terrible, unlucky past that almost made him get mad. I felt that he hated humanity for his misfortune. As time passed, I discovered by looking him through the bus window, some attitudes about him that made change my mind. I think he’s there not to make us feel compassion, but he is there because he is happy, or happier than with his pas life. He feels free as the birds, which live in the park, sharing the trees, the benches, the fountain, the shadows, the rain and the cold. He is free as the geese which swim in the artificial lake, free as the falling tree leaves which can go wherever the autumn wind blows.
P.S. it was almost midday when I was coming from the city and I saw him in interaction with other people. A group of students were laughing at his bags, he immediately went there and told them something I couldn’t hear. He felt offended and he rescued his bags.
I got interested on him because I know there is a sad story in his life, I will try to ask someone from the surroundings during the winter holidays, about his life. I don’t think I could speak to him and ask :”why do you live in that way? What happened in your past that made you end like this? Or is it that you escaped from a mental hospital and nobody cares?” I ‘m afraid he could be rude to me.
Entry 11- TIME ALBUM
Language 4. Entry Nª-11
“TIME” , ALBUM BY ELECTRIC LIGHT ORCHESTRA.
Thanks to technology and the invention of MP3 and the compilation of old songs I could get the album “Time” by Electric Light Orchestra. Once I had listened the song “21st century man” while I was reading The time machine, and I fell in love with this song. For many years I tried to find it but I couldn`t until the invention of MP3.
I remember Electric Light Orchestra when they produced the successful song “Last train to London”. It is still a beautiful song and I used to sing it along. In 1984, they changed the style and produced the album “Time”, containing beautiful electronic music mixed with space and metallic sounds. The sounds of synthesizers and the metallic voice of a robot are fantastic. The album consists of 13 songs included a prologue and an epilogue. Most of the songs have futurist lyrics, such as the Prologue which begins with the sound of a spaceship as if it were coming out of Earth or out of the ocean. Afterwards the sad and patient metallic voice of a robot speaks. He asks people to wait for the ship at the border side. At this point I imagine people in the future will be able to buy a ticket to a planet and take a space ship to go to the Moon or to Mars on tourism.
“Twilight” follows the brief prologue with an abrupt beginning, and the sounds of electric guitars, battery, drums, synthesizers and piano. Then comes “Yours truly 2095” is like the ending of a later from another time. But you realize that it is a repeated and mechanical answer of a female robot lover. It is faster, the voice of the singer is modified. He is in love with a robot, but she is an IBM, programmed to be nice, but she is cold. She is not a real woman. This song has a kind of message, a futuristic view that by 2095, people will be able to buy robot lovers, as company. They will feel so lonely that they will need a pleasing robot, but robots are cold as ice, as the singer says. So why is it that relationships between human beings are so difficult? May be because we are so complex and have feeling whereas a robot does not have, so she can bare anything.
The fourth song “Ticket to the moon”, is like a ballad with special sounds. It is very romantic. He has a ticket to travel to the moon, but he is not happy because his beloved is in Earth. The next song “Way life’s meant to be”, he wishes to be back in 1984 because he is not happy in the future. He wishes to be back in 1984 the best time of all when the album was produced. Present time is better than the past and the future.
Song number six is very particular and very original and strange. It is “Another heart breaks”. I have never listened to something like that before. It is an amazing piece of composition, with electronic sounds and space effects as a background imitating the beats of your heart. It is really touching because the beats of the song go along with the bits of your heart. You can taste it by listening to the song and touching your chest. The beats of your heart seem to be part of the song. This composition is mostly instrumental. A moment comes when it seems that the heart breaks, or has a heart attack and it is dying, someone tries to revive it, counting from 1 to 8, to give it an electric shock.
Song number seven is also beautiful and very realistic because ELO has incorporated real sounds of a storm. You can hear the sound of wind blowing, then a thunder sounds very near and you imagine the lightning breaking the sky, then the sound of rain falling, the song is called “Rain is falling”. A man is inside his home looking through the window how the rain falls. He needs someone at that time, he feels alone. He is transported with his mind somewhere, looking for somebody else.
It seems that loneliness , insecurity and the lack of communication is a recurrent theme in ELO’s songs.
An abrupt change comes with “From the end of the world”, the title is very suggestive, the rhythm is very fast. It’s very hard to understand the lyrics because the voice has special effects. In “Light goes down” the tone changes, the rhythm is slow. A man needs someone close to him at this special moment when the lights go down, but there is no one around. And again, loneliness is expressed.
“Here is the news”, is the tenth song. You can listen to a radio telling the news. It is 1984, a difficult time. The news show all the worst of the world’s convention. Someone is afraid, within a violent society full of news about murder, he does not want to end in a plastic bag. Here we have another theme: death, insecurity, violence. A verse “somebody’s broken at 792, look very carefully,/ it may be you,you,you”, sounds as an advise you may feel scared because violence is part of our society.
My favourite song is number 11 “ 21st century man” it is the most beautiful and significant of them all. It is a sad ballad which talks about man living in the 21st century. Man at this century is described as being always busy, caring about money all the time. And lives in a hurry in order to get it. “ a penny in your pocket,/ suitcase in your hand, /they want get you very far,/ now you are a 21st century man”
“fly across the city,/ rise upon the land,/ you can do most anything,/ now you are a 21st century man” as if man is different in this century, he is always travelling, he kinds of multitask, he can do most everything.
“one day you are a hero/ next time you are a clown” showing the ups and downs of the man , sometimes happy, we are like heroes, doing great things, but sometimes we may feel ridiculous, like clowns when others laugh at us. An interesting question comes when “you should be so happy, / you should be so glad, / so why are you so lonely / you 21st man”. Having technology at hand, work, money, prestige, family, we are so lonely. May be we do not have time for others nor for ourselves. Again lack of communication is present. It seems that having all material things is useless if we cannot find ourselves and communicate or share with others.
Song number 12 seems not to belong to the same sequence as the previous ones. The rhythm changes, It is a rock’n roll with traditional instruments, very fast, nevertheless the lyrics give you comfort and hope . it is called “Hold on tight to your dreams”, brings a beautiful message to all people who have a dream and cannot make it true, so the better way to achieve it is holding tight to your dreams. One stanza is in English and another is in French.
The last is “Epilogue” is very brief and with a summary of the lyrics of the song “21st century man” , it is very short and in the end you can hear the sound of the same space ship of the beginning launching into space. When you join the epilogue and the prologue together, they sound as one composition split by the other songs, so there is a kind of continuity.
“Time” is not only a well done, beautiful album, but with some messages to the mankind living in the 21st century. If you listen to the lyrics you can find the message.
“TIME” , ALBUM BY ELECTRIC LIGHT ORCHESTRA.
Thanks to technology and the invention of MP3 and the compilation of old songs I could get the album “Time” by Electric Light Orchestra. Once I had listened the song “21st century man” while I was reading The time machine, and I fell in love with this song. For many years I tried to find it but I couldn`t until the invention of MP3.
I remember Electric Light Orchestra when they produced the successful song “Last train to London”. It is still a beautiful song and I used to sing it along. In 1984, they changed the style and produced the album “Time”, containing beautiful electronic music mixed with space and metallic sounds. The sounds of synthesizers and the metallic voice of a robot are fantastic. The album consists of 13 songs included a prologue and an epilogue. Most of the songs have futurist lyrics, such as the Prologue which begins with the sound of a spaceship as if it were coming out of Earth or out of the ocean. Afterwards the sad and patient metallic voice of a robot speaks. He asks people to wait for the ship at the border side. At this point I imagine people in the future will be able to buy a ticket to a planet and take a space ship to go to the Moon or to Mars on tourism.
“Twilight” follows the brief prologue with an abrupt beginning, and the sounds of electric guitars, battery, drums, synthesizers and piano. Then comes “Yours truly 2095” is like the ending of a later from another time. But you realize that it is a repeated and mechanical answer of a female robot lover. It is faster, the voice of the singer is modified. He is in love with a robot, but she is an IBM, programmed to be nice, but she is cold. She is not a real woman. This song has a kind of message, a futuristic view that by 2095, people will be able to buy robot lovers, as company. They will feel so lonely that they will need a pleasing robot, but robots are cold as ice, as the singer says. So why is it that relationships between human beings are so difficult? May be because we are so complex and have feeling whereas a robot does not have, so she can bare anything.
The fourth song “Ticket to the moon”, is like a ballad with special sounds. It is very romantic. He has a ticket to travel to the moon, but he is not happy because his beloved is in Earth. The next song “Way life’s meant to be”, he wishes to be back in 1984 because he is not happy in the future. He wishes to be back in 1984 the best time of all when the album was produced. Present time is better than the past and the future.
Song number six is very particular and very original and strange. It is “Another heart breaks”. I have never listened to something like that before. It is an amazing piece of composition, with electronic sounds and space effects as a background imitating the beats of your heart. It is really touching because the beats of the song go along with the bits of your heart. You can taste it by listening to the song and touching your chest. The beats of your heart seem to be part of the song. This composition is mostly instrumental. A moment comes when it seems that the heart breaks, or has a heart attack and it is dying, someone tries to revive it, counting from 1 to 8, to give it an electric shock.
Song number seven is also beautiful and very realistic because ELO has incorporated real sounds of a storm. You can hear the sound of wind blowing, then a thunder sounds very near and you imagine the lightning breaking the sky, then the sound of rain falling, the song is called “Rain is falling”. A man is inside his home looking through the window how the rain falls. He needs someone at that time, he feels alone. He is transported with his mind somewhere, looking for somebody else.
It seems that loneliness , insecurity and the lack of communication is a recurrent theme in ELO’s songs.
An abrupt change comes with “From the end of the world”, the title is very suggestive, the rhythm is very fast. It’s very hard to understand the lyrics because the voice has special effects. In “Light goes down” the tone changes, the rhythm is slow. A man needs someone close to him at this special moment when the lights go down, but there is no one around. And again, loneliness is expressed.
“Here is the news”, is the tenth song. You can listen to a radio telling the news. It is 1984, a difficult time. The news show all the worst of the world’s convention. Someone is afraid, within a violent society full of news about murder, he does not want to end in a plastic bag. Here we have another theme: death, insecurity, violence. A verse “somebody’s broken at 792, look very carefully,/ it may be you,you,you”, sounds as an advise you may feel scared because violence is part of our society.
My favourite song is number 11 “ 21st century man” it is the most beautiful and significant of them all. It is a sad ballad which talks about man living in the 21st century. Man at this century is described as being always busy, caring about money all the time. And lives in a hurry in order to get it. “ a penny in your pocket,/ suitcase in your hand, /they want get you very far,/ now you are a 21st century man”
“fly across the city,/ rise upon the land,/ you can do most anything,/ now you are a 21st century man” as if man is different in this century, he is always travelling, he kinds of multitask, he can do most everything.
“one day you are a hero/ next time you are a clown” showing the ups and downs of the man , sometimes happy, we are like heroes, doing great things, but sometimes we may feel ridiculous, like clowns when others laugh at us. An interesting question comes when “you should be so happy, / you should be so glad, / so why are you so lonely / you 21st man”. Having technology at hand, work, money, prestige, family, we are so lonely. May be we do not have time for others nor for ourselves. Again lack of communication is present. It seems that having all material things is useless if we cannot find ourselves and communicate or share with others.
Song number 12 seems not to belong to the same sequence as the previous ones. The rhythm changes, It is a rock’n roll with traditional instruments, very fast, nevertheless the lyrics give you comfort and hope . it is called “Hold on tight to your dreams”, brings a beautiful message to all people who have a dream and cannot make it true, so the better way to achieve it is holding tight to your dreams. One stanza is in English and another is in French.
The last is “Epilogue” is very brief and with a summary of the lyrics of the song “21st century man” , it is very short and in the end you can hear the sound of the same space ship of the beginning launching into space. When you join the epilogue and the prologue together, they sound as one composition split by the other songs, so there is a kind of continuity.
“Time” is not only a well done, beautiful album, but with some messages to the mankind living in the 21st century. If you listen to the lyrics you can find the message.
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