Arriba la lluvia silenciosa y abajo el estruendo de un
corazón caliente bajo un nórdico porque la nórdica duerme. Los tirabuzones en
la almohada ajenos a mi alma atribulada. A poniente misteriosos relámpagos y a
levante, más que me pese, la oscuridad más absoluta. La lluvia, en cualquier caso, civiliza mi espíritu. Pero esta madrugada, en la que el líquido
elemento corre desbocado en mi pueblo mediterráneo, aullaría como un lobo para saber si estoy solo
en el mundo. Escucho gemidos y lamentos de un pretérito que se repite cada
noche. Una voz espectral parece decirme que
me condenaron al olvido para encadenarse a su triste soledad.
Equivoqué el natalicio porque en este tiempo,
desgraciadamente, el honor y el asaltar castillos no están de moda. Erré al
pensar que los legajos y pergaminos leídos en silencio me
salvarían de aquellos que prefieren morir en vida. Patiné esperando poder
entablar un diálogo pero todo, absolutamente todo, es un juicio ad hominem
cuando mis opiniones se deslizan por el peligroso desfiladero de las ideas que
divergen. Pienso, luego ofendo. Gracias Forges.
Me levanto a escribir unas líneas y, al leerlas como
siempre, mi moral se acuesta entre dudas lacerantes: ¿Amaneceré mañana con la
rabia de Quevedo o con el amor de Lope de Vega? ¿Abrazaré la canción
báquica de Espronceda mientras surco
los océanos del tiempo señoreando mi propia bandera? ¿Es un barco fantasma lo
que veo en la lontananza o la celestial pirotecnia me juega una mala pasada? ¿Tomaré
la pluma como una espada para acometer a mis supuestos enemigos, o usaré “el
santo cuchillo que tengo entre las piernas para calmar su sed y la mía? Dudas
brumosas. Incertidumbres hirientes que alcanzan de lleno el ánima de este
humilde escribiente.
La lluvia sigue
cayendo inmisericorde. Los barquitos pesqueros amarrados a puerto sin poder ganarse el sustento y los
agricultores dando gracias al cielo. Nunca llueve a gusto de todos pero ahora
todos coinciden, y hacerlo en estas tierras es un acto milagroso: los
persistentes chubascos son una bendición divina. Pues que siga la lluvia; ella
arriba, yo abajo y el mundo al carajo.
Sergio Calle Llorens
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The ideas, and even scenes, in this movie can be found in a whole list of SF novels and movies from Invasion of the Body Snatchers to Leviathan Wakes (The Expanse series), John Carpenter's The Thing, Alien, Avatar, The Astronaut's Wife, Blair Witch, Tarkovsky's Stalker & Solaris, and JG Ballard's The Crystal World. (In one scene I thought I was watching Ghostbusters.) It throws in some genetics jargon and wraps everything in pseudo-philosophical nonsense while adding nothing new. watch happy death day online free
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Over the course of several years many research teams have entered the Shimmer, never to return (mostly). Surely, by now they'd have nuked it? But no, they do exactly the same thing again with a new team. watch the devils candy online free hd
They go in with no back-up plan; in fact no plan at all. No protocols. Not even a bio-hazard suit? And apparently no paper and pencil for making notes, which would have been useful when they find themselves lost and with no memory of the previous 4 days. Really? They are supposed to be scientists. watch Avengers: Infinity War free online
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