La fuente de jade

His car was literally shattered. Too many long journeys, bad driving, rough roads, excess weight. It displayed no interest in starting on that final morning of Vincent's mundane life, so he took the small yellow car that belonged to his younger sister. She was 77 now and entirely uninterested in traveling, so it was in good shape. However, it was comically small, absurdly small, really nothing more than an engine on wheels with a seat, which was an issue since Vincent needed

Era primavera, aunque el calor aún no había llegado con la suficiente dignidad como para que yo caminara desabrigada. Ya sabía que no podía esperar más, así que me puse mi mejor abrigo, envolviéndome con cuidado contra el frío que todavía persistía en el camino hacia el bar. Debajo llevaba el vestido de seda blanca que mi abuela me había regalado aquella misma tarde en que me confesó, casi con ligereza, que había sido una prostituta célebre en el oeste del condado de Greenwic

La madre había salido a pagar el alquiler. Antes de cerrar la puerta había dejado la radio encendida en la cocina con el programa de historia que escuchaba cada tarde y al que, al final, hacía una pequeña venia, inclinación elegante y sincera que su hija nunca había comprendido. El padre, quizás trabajando, o no. La niña había acabado de leer una breve novela de terror que terminaba en el momento más álgido: una cabeza del tamaño de una mano se asomaba al horno de la protagon

When she had been young Cenza had always loved the southerly winds, the one which mainly visited in the olive picking season. They would tease the smoke out of the village tile factory's tall chimney and spread it slowly over the lowlands where she lived and her family worked. She liked how these industrial clouds diffused the harsh bright sunlight and change the shapes of the shadows cast by the olive trees. The soft shadow play during these winds made her feel like the t

The amazing hotel-world quickly closes around him … the air swarms, to intensity with the characteristic, condensed and accumulated as he rarely elsewhere has had the luck to find it._ Henry James, 1969: 102. Le pareció que había encontrado la empresa con el servicio perfecto: ellos se encargarían de hasta el más mínimo detalle, incluso de hacer fotografías del antes que no fuesen únicamente planos generales, sino también de pequeños descuidos en el doblez de uno de dos calce

Gerald stood in the queue, acknowledging the predictable sense of his growing disappointment. He heard the bells outside on the square striking 2 o’clock, the disappointment shifted to a mood located somewhere between resentment and anger. 2 o’clock was check in time, from 2 o’clock the room was his for 21 hours, why was he still in the queue waiting to check in? He was at best anonymous, benign, but ever-present, like an untreatable but nonterminal cancer, and when he

La ley sonora del gallo Preludio A lo lejos, bajo un fresno, un niño sollozaba en silencio, y las hojas no se movían porque no había viento y las puertas no sonaban porque no había llaves con qué abrirlas ni con qué hacer el ruido necesario para distraerse, para no pensar en el agujero y no sentir que entras a una casa llena de gente, vacía por dentro, con vinilos que no suenan porque ya pasaron de moda y con un gallo dentro, que espera un motivo para ser interrumpido. Primer

Preamble: This is the story of Eamonn, the lord of the dominion of hatred. During his reign all humans are condemned. And exonerated, all animals. His story is a desperate one, often horrific. Too dark for straight telling, however it needs to be shared. I have realised that when it is applied to a popular music song structure it becomes softer and, if you can extract the pain and loss, it is almost understandable. I attempt to keep it short, a synopsis of the dialogue

Los placeres de la vida son dos: cerrar los ojos y abrir los ojos. El segundo es muy superior, pero para abrir los ojos hay que haberlos cerrado.   Pompeya, Girolamo Vico Acquanera   i El granero. La paja desperdigada —los niños desperdigados— baña de amarillo narciso las prendas desgastadas. Luciana levanta el húmero del brazo derecho que choca con el cúbito del antebrazo izquierdo. Una vez más tienen el día solo para ellos y Julio frota el radio del antebrazo derecho con el

The apartment was a typical East London Victorian terrace house conversion. The windows shook in the ground-floor living room every time a bus drove past—too big for the street and not big enough for the passengers. I dropped the ash from the joint into the blue ashtray that Shane had probably stolen from the bar next door. It was a Wednesday, late afternoon. We’d been out last night and were both feeling the effects of our overindulgence and lack of sleep. The soft smell of

La revista de Batman estaba toda manchada de aceite. La había leído tantas veces que las manchas densas que estaban ya derritiendo letras, miradas certeras y misterios, no distorsionaron la claridad de la historia, el drama de aquellas dos páginas que tanto quería. Allí estaba ahora con esas hojas engrasadas como sosteniendo un cadáver, justo en la parte en donde Robin, que había sido traicionado por su madre, moría a manos del Joker y Batman lo cargaba ensangrentado y hecho

Wales, 1994 The oil slowly accumulated in the plastic bottles in the cupboard beneath the kitchen sink. Every time she cooked for him she used the cheapest she could find. And used in abundance. She kept the best for herself. Why? Because she could. There wasn’t much she controlled but the decision on the quality of the cooking oil was hers and hers alone. And this lonely autonomy had been hers since they had met. Happy they were when they began. He, working in some o