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# 23 Summary of 2010 in an incomprehensible manner.

January 2010: In the first hours of the year, lying with someone's head sunk between vertebrae of the spine, at about 10 morning. Do not tighten the slow leak of water adventures next snowflakes, bizarre incidents, laughter, and tears, but happy.
February 2010: overcooked in a metal cup thought complemented the desire to get rid of snow outside the window. Moving a wooden bench silver dish excitement grew with each approaching the tape measure to an imaginary pen to paper odfajkowania important steps for me then.
March 2010: the piercing delicate greenish creatures, brought with them the characteristic smell of early spring. Trembling legs as hard as rock excavation drifts. A time for change came ...
April 2010: I sat at a table with an egg in his hand, drew with precision and accuracy of Easter designs and then put it in a basket, sending a kiss to the church is a small child. Still nothing happened, and my worthy of your attention.
May 2010: The sun rays were killing the windows of the house, as if trying to escape. Pulses were getting stronger.
June 2010: at the very beginning everyone was preparing for that day when you hear the "end". And with a smile on his face coming home with the knowledge that tomorrow will be able to wake up whenever you want. Unfortunately, I still need to wait for this moment. Torn by thoughts, stress and rage of the day was getting stronger, the focus was increasing. It worked.
July 2010: Now is the moment in which clicking the "send" I had no awareness of what happens in a few days. I went to Krakow, with the rest enjoyed the time, as always. Described earlier visit to the oracle came when I left I did not believe that he was alive. Could life be so amazingly beautiful?
August 2010: The first phone brought with it the excitement and the desire to experience this adventure with modeling. I unleashed the demon, mixing relationships in my unconsciously designed product.
September 2010: Orders and feelings. and it became - I started. In private life, much has changed, sometimes not necessarily for the better.
October 2010: Sense. Metamorphosis. Abstract. Relation. Smile. Sadness. Anger, Joy, and millions of others.
November 2010: Dopieszczałem every kilometer of life film. Sometimes the desire to escape from reality was so strong that the aforementioned cup of hot metal to red tick is not allowed. They say that laughter is healthy.
December 2010: The outbreak is beyond belief. Crushed this imaginary piece of paper. Time to live the truth.

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Video clip JULIAN GARCIA.
Topic: I will not pretend



Address: Alejandro Genes
Actors: Lucia Giraudo, Nicolas Figueroa, Julian Garcia.
Camera and editing: Roberto Spasari
Assistant Address: Dolores Perez Demaria
Costume: Loneliness Buelow

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Waking up before noon, slipped from their ornamented cuddly toys, a large quilt in shades of mother of pearl. With every step, aroma tea was becoming stronger. Then, after leaving the bathroom, sat down at the table, drove shiny fork into a juicy, scarlet, previously chopped tomato. Obijały crumbs for a porcelain plate. I drew attention to the time he showed standing watch on the shelf then stood up and began to dress hurriedly. Looking out of the house, grabbed a glove and scarf wearing them at the time of getting a lift on the ground floor. With notebook in hand I got off at the fourth stop from evolving into a home office agency. I sat on the snow-white sofa, taking a newspaper to hand. After greeting the booker, I gave some basic information about yourself. We left moving towards tapestry. Getting to know the participants in the event, the smile never left my face. Dressing up in the bathroom labeled as "casting" is not had too big an area, makeup done perfectly, it was hard to be serious in this situation. The time spent was not wasted - resulted.

Reaching for a show which made it difficult when the weather did not end quite as colorful as the finish was. Anyway, everyone was happy. I hope ...

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Gaspard de la nuit, by Aloysius Bertrand


Medardo
From Faust, to Melmoth and several others, the reappearance of the Devil was in the late eighteenth century and the beginning of the nineteenth century one of its biggest booms in the collective memory literature. Almost always characterized naturally, everyday, within the standards of behavior in the Middle Ages, under recurrent and obsessive than the writers of the time.

this presentation is not oblivious to the short work of this author of Italian origin but French adoption. Gaspard is the devil, monk-like, take possession of our author to make a few brief strokes of his world view, under the imposture dissolute buffoon. Divided into six parts, and in turn those stories divided into several more or less poetic, Bertrand travels to them by the medieval French, English or Italian, with the eyes of Dutch Baroque (Rembrandt) placing the shape and color. Thus, in "The Flemish school" dominates the description, detail and dialogue short and customs, becoming decidedly fantastic chapters as "Way of the sabbath." Scarbo, gnome and acrobat, is the protagonist of "Night and its prestige," the otherness of Gaspard and one of the main attractions of the book, he feels a special predilection for the poor, dark or unprepared, either vampirism crackle the day or from the mist of dreams.




had Gaspard, as any single work in this case, and damn-your particular musical adaptation (Ravel), plus the opportunity to serve as a stimulus to a genre in constant turmoil since then, the prose poem. "The work which inspired Baudelaire" says the band that accompanies the release of Artemis. And such a statement is not part of the business fad or the lure free. Carlos dealt with make it very clear at the beginning of your "Spleen de Paris" ( "to browse" Gaspard de la Nuit ", I thought the idea of \u200b\u200btrying something like that), so narcotic influenced by" The old Paris Bertrand, one of the legs of this ubiquitous and prophetic work where true poetry will take the helm at its end, that of "Silvas", by rhythm, intonation and instinct.

freest, avoiding immediate cataloging, Bertrand himself took to inform us (through his epilogue devoted to Nodier, since his justice or his Trilby Smarra born that Scarbo) diverging from any imperative: "Here's my book, as I have written as to be read before obscure critics with their clarifications ".