Animated Woman Pregnancy

head and arms outside the window

other arms (other animals)

Daniel Diaz blanket shut up, boy

Omar Perez stations

Efraim Medina Reyes Shock / sexuality of the Pink Panther

Naief latex yehya people

Juan Francisco Ferré allegories of America / American subprime

the Ricardo Alberto Pérez strange metamorphosis of Cassia Heller

talked about God with Antonin Artaud Antonin Artaud
the Sorcerer's Stone / poetry

Rachel Resnick carnivorous Marrakesh medina

jamila three moments to

Debbie Malone Nestor cabrera going to Montana VII

Pedro Lemebel initiation of conscripts / Silvio Rodríguez

e. Brokeback Mountain Annie Proulx

james tate new blood witches &

Roberto Gonzalez Echevarria bridge ponte ponte
josé antonio fiesta black box

Breastfeeding Baby Chew

-
you intend angry with silly parables. I know all about his own father, Pavel Isaev told me about him, I said I was a dictator, that everyone hated him until his sharecroppers themselves killed. You think that, like his father and you hated each other, the history of the world will be just the history of wars fought between parents and children. You do not understand the meaning of the revolution. The revolution is the end of everything old, including parents and children. It's the end of the succession of dynasties. And constantly renewed, if true revolution. With each new generation, the old revolution is invalidated and the story starts again. This is the new idea, the truly new. Year One. FreeCell. Everything is reinvented, everything is erased and reborn: the law, morality, family, everything. All prisoners are released, all crimes are forgiven. The idea is so great that you not understood, nor understood by those of his generation. Rather, you understand too well, and seeks to stifle it in its cradle.
- Where's the money? When you forgive the crimes, is redistribute the money?
"Much more than that. Occasionally, when you least expect it people, said that the existing money is worthless and issue a new currency. That was the mistake of the French, allowing the old money in circulation continued. The French did not make a revolution, because they have the courage to go through. Liquidated the aristocracy, but did not eliminate the old way of thinking. In our schools will teach the thinking of the people itself, which has been repressed during this time. Everyone will go back to school, including teachers. Farmers will be the teachers, and teachers will become students. In our schools we new men and women at all. All reborn with a new heart.
- And God? What does God think of all this?
The young man laughs of pure joy.
- God? God will be green with envy.
"So you believe in God.
- Of course! What sense would not believe? The same would set fire to everything, turn the world into ashes. No, go before God, we will present ourselves standing before the throne, we will call. And come! Will have no choice but to listen. And then finally we will all be together on a equal footing!
- And the angels?
-Angels will form circles around us singing the hosanna. The angels will be charmed. They too will be free to walk the earth as footmen.
- And the souls of the dead?
- How much do you question! The souls of the dead, Surety Mikhailovich, also if you like. The souls of the dead will walk the earth, of course. If so it seems, Pavel Isaev. What we can do is limitless.

Peterbursgo the master of JM Coetzee

How Much Tequila Is In A Bucket Of Margarita Mix

blanket Daniel Diaz (Havana, 1970) shut up, boy

blanket Daniel Diaz (Havana, 1970)

shut up, boy

does not carry the wind here, no time passes. The window is a gap narrow, high reveals only a fragment of covered walkway, the door, a hole protected with thick rough bars painted black. There side, another narrow corridor leading to dens similar wet: just three by four meters in darkness, cold concrete niches with space for six legged bay.
Fortunately, tonight we are only four. Everyone in your niche, looking at the ceiling or walls, thinking at the time that passes without us and trying out useless measure as we try to come alive the next minute. All hope is reduced to this: moving from one minute to the next seamlessly, without losing control stand without falling. Any hope, however, can be a trap for these bipeds now, cornered, we await the next minute.
But the next minute does not arrive or, if it is merged with the former in an amorphous substance, elastic, with more events that feverish flow of ideas, anger iridisciendo eyes and a tension that increases at every moment , the surprise ending to exist within the world outside in a cold and dirty niche somebody away, sheltered in comfort, designed to deprive us of any condition other than that of bipeds.
"My name is Luis Emilio Guzmán Valdivia," says a voice at my left. Tomorrow is my birthday. I'm turning twenty-eight and took ten days here without my family knowing.
listen without moving. The tone is resigned, almost peaceful.
- Why are you here? He asks.
"They say that the slaughter of cattle, but I only bought the meat. You have to eat, he says, imagine.
Try to find a face to that voice and not successful. While it is an abstract way, I think, will be negligible in its grayness. A name, a face, a pain, get you closer to me. I have stared at the bulb: a light source built with clumsy yellow a hole in the wall at ceiling height, protected by steel bars, covered with soot and cobwebs. Almost hostile that light, almost its own antithesis. That is the face of Luis Emilio, this is also my face today.
"I am Leandro Azcuí another voice whispers in front of me, I'm of Rancho Las Mercedes, in the mountains, and killed my wife. I killed her, "he repeats with strength and the echo resounds in the hall with no sign of regret or sorrow.
Silence. I think my house away, my friends outside this unusual piece of reality for them, for me, we are meek my friends and I, good people that have seen only on television prisons, and although At times we feel caged, our cage is metaphorical.
"My name is Daniel," I say without thinking, "I am a writer. I went to El Valle. The bus stopped at the terminal and went to eat something. I was arrested, they say that I was leaving the country.
- And what the Valley is a writer, if I may ask? Asks the fourth voice below me. Say
writer imposes some respect, what you write can get away and that's a weapon. If you have tried to intimidate you into signing a ridiculous indictment and when you refused brought you here, no crime, no right to a phone call, maybe your gun be used against you, it's easy to reduce you to a bipedal cornered, very easy maybe. So maybe tomorrow Probe by the pen-and-desist fearful.
- And what you were going to the Valley? "He asks the captain.
I do not know, I think to see.
- Oh yeah, see what?
"Let's see what there is to know.
- What did you ask who you permission?
- Why do I have to ask permission?
"Because I feel like me. To go to the Valley or anywhere in this county must ask permission to me.
I look. It is a sad man this master, a prisoner of circumstances that will never reach to understand, so secure in his prison, with his gun at the waist and emptiness in the soul. If I were his son also would say: you have to ask permission to me. But I'm not your son or your friend, or his subordinate. I shrug my shoulders and looked at him without speaking.
"I am in July and I live in The Valley," says the fourth voice. What I'm about to tell is to write it, if you are as brave as you say.
"Speak," I ask. July
is twenty years. He moved with his wife and only son remained empty apartment in the building. All the people agreed, but police evicted them.
-waited until I was not to come, "mutters Julio, ¬ Zaron Nena entertaining that I would not see his face if he did not come out and thrown around outside. Now they say I threatened the captain.
- And the apartment? I ask.
"I have answered them," Julio, say that to make a dungeon to the people of the Valley.
"Shut up, boy," advised the guard beyond the bars.
Open the gate and called me. I follow him back to the room where they made me enter. Wet and without windows, is almost the antechamber of hell, I think as cordoned off my boots. Pick up the backpack and go. At the door the captain offered me an apology
"All men are mistaken," he says.
-some more than others, "I reply, but there's no point: it is a sad man, a prisoner of circumstances never understand. Outside is
morning. The people sleep protected from the cold of January. The street is tough on my feet. Unhurried way to the gate, thinking about the challenge of July. I want to get to the Valley, see what there is, tell the tale.

Good Thesis For Abortion

jamila medina (Holguin, 1981) three seconds to Debbie Malone: Teaspoons (II)

jamila
medina (Holguin, 1981)

three moments to Debbie Malone: \u200b\u200b

Teaspoons (II)

To

Casey Calvert:
who wrote through me without my knowledge.

Thursday I got dressed and called my daddy to lend me his driver again Thursday. It was my clinic day and he could not refuse.
After some slight kick when we were already accustomed: daddy and I better: daddy, its thursday-taxidriver and I (I need it, daddy, look I will make a scandal in the office, daddy, then we ask for and took two for five weeks without a period ...) I got it. Luckily daddy can not stand to talk about blood in front of his new secretary (white meat deliciously rebosadas and varicose legs), less than menses.
blood but Ray is preferred. I think. After brain shake, then the bit and everything else, it goes to our holes. These people, well oiled by the edge: because the bones also bleed, what sweetness, Ray told me in ecstasy eye-holes we love neuros open on a beautiful example (here I know that mine looked indecent, in bad lust carried) of human skull, which we harassed by pressures.
Best of Ray's who was also a gynecologist. And that has been programmed (in unfathomable, loaded like my cup of tea curricula) for general practitioners not-know-what-else. So I do not need to see her lovely face between my legs more than anyone, nor anyone else I "depressed" by placing a disposable wood pallet on my tongue, for digging into my tonsils, and I pricked fingertips, neatly, to see my blood run ... and analyzed step.
Promptly climbed seven floors (hated the blonde whispers, faux blonde, slim ankles, chains surrounded by metal slightest Charm, imitation metal, driving the elevator). I knocked gently at the door and waited to hear his voice. Not that I'm waiting for someone else: Ray is MY personal physician. Not that I feared to interrupt a round (of those that comments on how beautiful and nice liver tumor) of doctors. Everyone knows at the clinic Thursday at five p.m. Ray I is reserved to me. And to anyone else.
pass said with that tone of apparent indifference with which I always received, and I of course never believe. I knew I was shaking. I went and did go to my nana, pointing with a nod (under the scalp, dura mater, arachnoid that part ...: each layer of pastry in my skull unsettling), and he nodded before me point out (as desired and I know).
charge made himself right away and then, when everything arranged for tea, it was my nana who nodded and apologized (we saw this: an old skull, disgusting, wobble) ... and I let her go. I put
properly: milk and two lumps of sugar and, of course, a neat piece of tea into his cup. He had learned to calculate con primorosa exactitud las proporciones. Hizo girar, primero en redondo y luego en cruz la cucharilla: por disolver lenta pero cabalmente toda el azúcar. Golpeteó leve con ella sobre el borde de la taza, escurriendo cada gota. Y yo quise ser la taza, pensé en aquella fría cucharilla recorriendo el borde de mis labios rosáceos: escanciando la dispendiosa gelatina entre mis muslos.
Bebió con fruición y preguntó al fin: qué te sientes hoy, princesa –de nuevo el tono glacial que pretendía helarme el tuétano («para comerme mejor», ¿no, querido?: hubiera deseado escupirle a la cara, porque yo conocía sus deseos). De nuevo la cabeza, de egipcia probidad (ya I would also like Debbie, have you, dear Yorick, presiding over his desk: longed sympathetic) on the neck snowy Ray: in an imperceptible bow bent, and paying attention. Cursed Thinker, I poured with eyes (to me maudlin heart skipped a beat when I played for Ray Murthay ask again: What is today Debbie Mallone ...) the marble sculpture that presided over his desk. And your shot-Rodan in solitary session Rimey my tiny victory. Quiet
: Get on the green bed, Debby (and I hated to bail me and little-child-kind name), Ray continued the ritual. Get out before those panties, Debby (A little more and he pats the little back ... to ask, bluntly, naked pubis, the iliac and that he prized area-I had seen him touch it with a storm on the forehead, the fingertips, too often, "in which the stomach and the beginning of the leg draw a fine crease). Settle well, Debby. Over those legs open, Debby. And stop moving, Debby. And ... and ... and ... "I was mentally mimicking the usual snacks he had decided to" stay out "Ray Murthay.
But little Debbie Mallone I really wanted was to forget, predicting what Ray would say so delete it, believe it part of his head sick.
I looked and looked again to between my legs, wanting to vertigo (ever could hear, "the better to see" how the trash poured more and more gauze soaked with my cups of jelly: the longing to gelatin I called him, made a gesture with his finger and then a grimace and desperate with all the left hand, asking him to come into me).
And seeing him do ... I put words in his mouth or removed, adapting them to their lips whispering, the motions of his tongue to the palate (palatal articulating a phoneme any), or that that was a velar (kordura Debbie ... let's see if you're Trankil, Korazón) and, above all, their attention was still powerful liquid (light Debby, angry shrew mine ...). I
so, as every Thursday, under friendly edge of your eye. Were. Aperto beaver (this time I observed), was wisely crafted by Debbie Ray for fifteen (stretched and stretched Marshmallow calamellus) fortunately very long minutes, and I worked to change his words. Defoliation, the belly and me: making a personal-Debbie-bad-translation only for me to see her say what she wanted, just to make me a little pampering.
Luckily we finished the inspection and breath (I felt the mild asphyxia, the relish with which she washed her hands, but before the lick: I noticed mandatory, relying on sympathetic magic, there behind the green sheets antiseptic). Then breathe in and breathe out and a little quieter.
-Two to three months, small. No question you would like but I wonder how that might happen, if I no longer take care: To place IUDs delicate, prescribe and buy even almost putting them in your hand and a glass of water, your pills Anticop ... deal saw its
head, rarely distressed: her intracranial lava bubbling (like those balls vitreous paperweight whose bellies floating vessels).
I do not understand anything, Debbie.
But just then I was pondering this myth purulent majestic occupied thousands of skulls down there: the guys like him putting his tongue in there, to remove a tumor. Imagine your tongue between my capillaries, the thickness of my brain fluid, its powerful weight on it ... when Ray said again
"Nothing, nothing, Debbie," you explain me?
And I did not know how. Doubted (Doubt Contradict my self) if my greed was also putting words in his mouth, to estarme Ray this Thursday with a little more. Neither do I believe in parthenogenesis, or had been opening my beaver to anyone else during the last ten months. Neither do I understand anything.
We'll have to give a careful speech, a little dangerous Debby. How we do this, Debby. Did you want anything that Sir. Mallone kill us, Debby, leave without my baby Nan II, Debby? "I listened or not babble like a child grieving his need as a celestial personality unfolded Gollum: mint a" we ", making-we share in a unit for anything I understand.
Its griticos terrified and I think my dizziness understand, try to make clear, see through the well settled into my cup of tea, that was my father, who scared him kill me for this "careful interventions" that now had to undertake.
Dangerous: pink evil the trip would start, "he said. Ray did not kill me for my father was afraid, afraid to want to kill himself, was terrified that his hands and one hand he would be released from my stifling presence of the Thursday and on the other hand would be the liberators of their secret innermost desires, your unconscious triggers. Fear of you, afraid of you! "I tried to scream but I was late, did not respond herds language: Having stopped watching the beautiful, sweetest hands of Ray, they had engaged to supply directly into the vein, its pain-killers.
I started to see blurry and I knew the rest: Ray Murthay like floating over me (beautiful night mare ... I mean the incubus, the inoculated nightmare that is brewing, I think, in the cerebellum), be responsible first kiss in the mouth, the whole mouth under Debbie Ray, under their weight or power. Not for necrophilia, which goes: but to reward, thank, and finally rewarded for having me on the mountain (maybe a delicate, fine blade: precious violin string). Then it would
the banquet. I had not been behind the curtains never see green antiseptic, but surely there was a closet-perhaps provided a white kit, which would keep the lemon juice and successive ingredients orgy hot pot and the white Russian dressing and honeyed peanut butter, and myrrh and basil, even a bit of star anise and bijol, loquat jam, tomato, marked in italics his precious russet,
content ... I had never seen beyond the bed, nor would I did not know the likes of Ray, his hands groping each Thursday, their age, the androgynous smoothness of her hair, the taste of your colony right in the finger that put the compressor on my tongue ... But I knew the lesson.
He-after shave on the neck and secure the triumph of cefazolin, I would "supine". Enjoy polishing my skin with Hibiscrub and marking the incision site. Lavish-with the finery that is spent on a child-care to the most royal clothing my head. After the first cuts, escanciaría kindly, tonsil dissector: fat, galea periosteum.
No wonder I had sustained long duel with Ray: inquiring about each transaction, meaning recognize, in every gesture insurance Queiroz, the deepest, forgotten remnants of my beloved loft neurosurgeon.
knew the procedure, Hunter restrained until the end, the retractor Hansen, the burr hole, cross the dura mater and all that other shit ...
surgical not need to struggle against their "murderers of pain" to know the PUNCTURE ventricle and the endoscope that Ray had ["flexible Bronchoscope Olympus ® BF_ P10 (5mm). Can., Karl Storz ® rigid Arthroscope (5mm), Aesculap ® flexible fiberscope (5mm) 2mm working channel?] Favorite among fever-burning any tissue that touched me, "take out of their launch, for in my skull" navigate ": getting to my foramen of Monro (beautifully drawn half-moon, right Ray?) for my thalamic-I saw him chew it fluffy-way that was venosianas.
Then, in the heart of wonderful excitement, which I would never shake it for me, would practice fenestration. Murthay Ray committed suicide at the height of ecstasy for any hidden window was open or closed, back into my skull. Ray it would, after ten minutes of anesthesia to enjoy the pain. I do not had to tell me.
Later (I: do not know if completely severed the head, almost looking like Yorick and him, and with a bit of guilt welled up in her eyes, but still euphoric), would ask (are you?), Contemplating (" me?) with neutral tone, the well-known things about being and nothingness. Using the blade would cut through it, pressing her dearest clasical-rock tune ... as I opened. Violet would be my last hiding place and, as a bridge levada the top of my skull like opening a Pandora's box.
Lemon and Tabasco tend to do their work in half an hour tensarían thus perhaps too dangerously, the patience of Ray: extending far cloyingly these minutes. I can not predict, despite everything, I know little of the exact procedures of their greed. But I know that Ray (as my father would not young, I used to eat monkey brains directly from the container of your bones): tame your nerves, and the eager-lewd-secretion of saliva. And they even used some of their time in having, on the pale, pearly, and smooth surface of the tea table: the coveted delicacy.
With tongs for ice-making will take great care that nothing will spill-from Pandora's box of my head to your saucer for tea: that in all, on a blue background, a topical silver dragon scales. His white hands, trembling, let him still, spice, and orlar, and garnish the treat. And only then I do not know whether to like or more finely chopped and anxiety: stifle the little voice wanting Debbie Mallone that buzzing in the ear: leave Ray-clean their act of seasoned, a bit of brain with my teaspoon-Stainless Steel, made in United Kingdom, and will eat (do you?).

Will Huntik Have Season 2

Nestor Cabrera (Havana, 1976) going to Montana VII

Nestor Cabrera (Havana, 1976)

going to Montana VII

the sweet rib (group kitsch)
shudder

off ringer and fall in gold

slopes of soft, warm juices


oily caramel into that heady spinal
-mature crude bomb-
imagine where you can get
pretend that everything always turns

change and do not detect Actually the exquisite flavor until it is

to engage in that hobby
useless to seek the unique way in the other
which
is perhaps the reason

blah, blah, blah ...

where

no

● ● ●



grrracias, grrracias.
Silence. An old order was always intended for the top. For everything to fall into its proper place. Disconnection. For the first and last time, now. Find. Is it useful?

The channel is open. And something running through the gaps. Perhaps a sip of the sweetest of fruit tart. Before a new wave (and this does not end). Progressive nonstop. Neuronal damage. Rant. Sorry, we use ... devastated. If you feel better ...

The formula

Algunas_personas I self-same you stop by. talk-insurance tickets what? with, who expected a night again (let it smoke) signals plug & skills speak! ... no time, p ... "Which line are you from?

... please.



● ● ●




something you need two voices
not have to apologize for not being able to say
duration
beam and illuminates the fiber with the vacuum noise holding
distance

a taut rope
the agenda ... and night
- how about it?
nothing, dark-malicious
what poetry or poetry
... look, people
rocket
another alternative, bitch, very ... (3.). well ...
have tongues like
the edges and cuts
so bold as pointed

- do you have nail clippers in hand, or a plush?
for oddities (too)
pale
the "I do not care
without having to assume,
more, speak ill of her
as usual
make it an attractive item negligibly
which may be purchased in a dumpster
- is it too much weight?

interest ... again ... come on ... I assume

when I can snatch me

is

what was that from there?
always surprises credits and acknowledgments ... serve yours
notes / balls oxygen / proximity
sips, laugh
breeze goes one way and another

puya
by the way, and caught the echoes of which are not



● ● ●



against the wall
test of faith or otherwise speak properly
delivery solution,
units Valkyrie!
You and your levels

- This is the enhancer of the object, ie, the program only runs when the codes are dysfunctional. Parameters 1, 2 and 3, are never reproducible once the process is triggered, but always included to show the logical sequence and how to reach a practical use the object. (Do not show this dialog.)

What time is it?
practice snaps ...
volver_te
set soft surface
spout on a link boreal
where the surfaces are no longer barriers
or silence, and

be drugged by a radiant profile
Nein!

- The director has 12 stereo audio channels in one
- Stop the stopwatch at the end of the beat
- If you disable the button to start / stop
- If we are in the stage 7 then ...
- Run away from what is too close
a flexible framework
as never before with a stick

always that adorable ax

- End If
-
End If - End If enough
- The animation will restart at the same point



● ● ●



transition method

rope chew that over and over Once scratched the surface, quietly

cyst is lost
center contour / environment
a deep fissure
not re-write
which is to be marked by

spontaneity to the next ...
does that exist?


Nichts ist für dich
nichts war für dich nichts bleibt
für dich für immer


and search altitude
if returns
anomaly "What ball
-Jaja, na 'there
of such conditioning, soft
how could it be the part that fits?
would let me be myself ...
but nothing, no idea

How Long To Get Std Test Results Back

Antonio José Ponte (massacres, 1964) black box of the party (The party controlled fragment) No.12

Antonio José Ponte (massacres, 1964)

black box
Party (fragment The party controlled )

"Today, sitting at my desk in a morning no clouds, I see through the window the crowd of parallelepipedal static rectangular and I am cured of malignant disease that nearly hide the truth about Cuba: retinitis pigmentosa. " Today is a day of 1960. Before writer opens a view of the Havana neighborhood of El Vedado. The writer is Jean Paul Sartre. It is his second trip to Cuba. The first, which sometimes brings to mind for some comparisons, was at 49. Sartre has not heard anything about until this morning retinitis pigmentosa. It has not felt their obfuscations but states that it suffered. (He suffers, yes, strabismus). Simply find the name of the disease in the speech a Cuban official and decides to take over. According to that official, anyone who could draw a happy picture of the pre-revolutionary Cuba (Graham Greene in his first vacation in Havana, for example) suffer from retinitis pigmentosa or side vision loss. Able to see in front of the Cuban reality, not enough to descry the corner of my eye. And that got away. Jean Paul Sartre places such notice at the beginning of hurricane eye on sugar. Tune your instrument, look, before lending to execute a long suite of Cuban issues, in the manner of Gottschalk and Gershwin. doctor Notice serves as a warning for not having enough side vision possessed in his previous trip. In 1960, eleven years later, he proposed not to lose anything of view. should not take a look at the photographs that show him in his second stay in Cuba. Always dressed in suit, a cigarette in his hand, his strabismus seems to cover the whole picture. Like these reptiles to which the autonomy of both eyes allowed to hunt the entire round. Like one of these reptiles in the glass case of his glasses. See a copy of the newspaper Revolution, and under the banner of a Cuban proposal to resume relations with the United States, appears on the front page a large picture of him. Lee in an airplane seat map of the island. They portray him in the pantheon of José Martí in the cemetery of Santiago de Cuba. Visit a sugar mill and a rural town that is built. Assists , with the head of the revolution, Havana's putting his play The respectful prostitute. is the first time since Fidel Castro attends a theater performance. After the performance, an actress asks if it is true that it intends to end prostitution, and the revolutionary leader says yes. This seems a nonsense to Sartre. The leader of the revolution turn ensures that the former prostitutes in taxi drivers. Sartre held a gathering of Cuban writers he treats at length about the Soviet socialist realism and political commitment of the writer. Dinner at an inn whose sign promises to China and Creole food all day and all night. Attend one of the biggest rallies of the time. (That opens the slogan "Patria o muerte!" And take the photo Ernesto Guevara known. In his memoirs, an anthology of the lived between 1944 and 1962, Simone de Beauvoir mentioned that meeting with a role in Beijing opera, bulls in Huelva, Candomble in Bahia, the vision of the desert, the white nights of Leningrad, a orange fight on the Piraeus and the bells of the end of the war.) "Sartre is Sartre!" Taxi drivers shout at him in Havana. He changes the cigarette for a cigar in his visit to the commandant's office and it gives Guevara fire. Take a coffee together. Guevara sat in a chair with greater height than their visitors. An office like a television scenario. "In this office does not enter at night," Sartre describes it. As if they were playing that office in a wax museum. Simone de Beauvoir and Jean Paul Sartre sitting, not against a person, but to the authoritative copy of Guevara. "Due to the perfectly polished boots of it? What plasticoide texture of his jacket? In any case, we note incoincidencia between the French couple and argentinocubano military. If anything the three agree, they do not made a photomontage. Sartre dinner at the same restaurants previously delight Graham Greene. Walk the Paseo del Prado. I stay in a hotel room where National would all his Paris apartment. To describe the item listed silks, windshields, embroidered flowers and flowers in vases, two double beds for himself. (Simone de Beauvoir takes separate room, just as each has his own apartment in Paris.) Sartre first delivered to the pleasure of air conditioning. View the city from one of the privileged point of view. "It was enough to draw the curtains when I arrived, I saw ghosts graceful long stretch toward the sky." And associated with the modern buildings of the Vedado to the previous degradation politics. Nightclubs are more numerous than in his previous visit. "Swarm around the Prado up its doors back on track electricity and attractive names and twinkling eyes of passers hurt." Find a crowd gathered around the gaming tables of the Tropicana cabaret, but the city at night is not one that was crossing Graham Greene. Slot machines have been removed. The lottery continues to operate after having been adjusted. casinos in the major hotels are open, but its earnings and the state will deposit. A Night in Havana has little time left. Sartre has been commissioned to write several articles on the events of the island is the man in Havana in L'Express. Although once arrived in Cuba regrets the limited edition and the publication of weekly Paris and decides to move to France Soir, where you can relax. Write Hurricane on sugar for an audience of millions, but neither would break to explain the stupidity of some of its fragments. As when he says about beards and manes Cuban revolutionaries: "I saw black rivers cover the chest to the diaphragm and have seen faces hairless, with four grown desperately hairs at the junction of the chin and neck. had not stopped to admire the range of a beard, when his owner , to shed his military cap, I showed an early baldness. In the youthful heroes of the last battles his face is smooth, hairless as a girl, but the hair falls on the shoulders " case of Sartre , these lines need to be topped by pensamental conclusion: "The extreme variety of combinations is attested in the discipline, a deep individualism." The author confesses to having been less beard since his arrival in Cuba than in one evening in Saint Germain des Prés. What's so much pormenos fashion columnist in the description of an unprecedented haircut? The exotic, the explanation of strange beauty, seems to trigger this and other fragments of Sartre's Cuba. are also notorious some of your wits. "If America did not exist," he ventures, "perhaps the Cuban revolution inventory: it is they who will retain their freshness and originality." And he is closing his oracular public dialogue with Cuban writers: "Do not forget that the intellectuals are never happy anywhere." Cuba is a paradise and I wish to stay well, to remain so. " in Havana in 1960, Sartre notes that some brothels have been closed and others keep intact their trade. After one year of revolution in power, still works the national lottery, casinos and brothels are still open. And if one of the features of every revolution is the austerity, he asks where to find Cuban austerity. From the revolutionary triumph, political power in the country seemed divided into two. At the Palace Presidential located in the old city, met the council of ministers. Chairing the board a man of law. "The law itself in its universality more formal and tyrannical", describes Sartre. And in a suite at the newly opened Havana Hilton camp planted the commander of the revolutionary army. From there he ruled the country who has not stopped doing since. The President of the Council of Ministers appointed by him Habis. The ministers had their approval. However, the council persisted in carrying old-style public affairs. And young the Havana Hilton were made of the modernity of the environment in which they resided. was El Vedado to Old Havana. architecturally Each group boasted of how much was missing. The Palace of sufficient settlement. And in a suite at Havana's most modern hotel, the guest boasted of tentativeness, of being only in passing. At that time the mobs were engaged in raiding nightclubs and casinos on behalf of the revolution. "Where is the Cuban austerity?" Ask Sartre. mobs devastating the gambling halls and hotels Deauville Plaza. When they tried to sneak into the Capri hotel, found on his way to Hollywood actor George Raft. And this, which looked after the interests of the boss Meyer Lansky in the casino and hotel in Capri, decamped to the crowd a speech peppered with revolutionary slogans to cool their vandalism purposes. The best performance of his career, according to witnesses argue. Jean Paul Sartre would have been astonished to see how close the Presidential Palace was the largest prostitution district of Havana. Just a few blocks. And the president signed the Council of Ministers a decree which closed this quarter. Every house of prostitution, any game room. For a day later in the Havana Hilton concentrate people, a crowd replete hotel elevators, take the stairs and suddenly penetrated in the command suite. were employees of gambling houses and the families of those employees. They were from the sellers of cigarettes to the dealers, those who left the presidential decree unemployed. Not daring to appear on the hotel, prostitutes had their complaints in writing, addressed letters to the chief of police headquarters. Humane letters, according to Jean Paul Sartre, in claiming their rights to their work. Letters friendly prostitutes. The commander heard the reasons employees gave lectures to messages of prostitutes and immediately called the ministers. These let alone its president and left to account to the real ruler of the country. White anger, Sartre describes the commander. According to this, the council was guilty of a jerk moralism that threatened the revolution. "They wanted them to delete the game? He also wanted, but on condition that could encontrársele employment to all staff that such a move would leave the street. And there was no industry at the moment able to host such a figure. was resolved only when the unemployment problem could be settled the game. Moreover, the majority of prostitutes in the city from the countryside. Order to those women who sell their bodies was a tremendous ingenuity. And prosecuting them would be a crime. misery ended only when peasant could be canceled prostitution. The ministers made the same mistake of many previous governments for not undertaking the causes, fighting their effects. And instead of addressing unemployment and poverty, battling against gambling and prostitution. was not yet time for closure. While necessary, the revolutionary power would have to take over the public lottery, gambling houses and casinos. (The presidential elections were postponed until they were eliminated unemployment and illiteracy). slots could be deleted, since they did not offer jobs to anyone, but would have to ensure that every man and woman keep their jobs. As for prostitutes, had to be fought whom the parasites, pimps and corrupt police. Leave the sex trade in the bones, not to sweep. Crack down on pimping whores blind eye. So the decree signed by President of the Council of Ministers may not be current. It was too premature, lacking other precautions. And ministers would do well to convince the President of his mistake. The President, however, declined to retract. He had put his signature on the decree, had given his word. (Sartre showed suspected of concealing such intransigent when his hesitation to act). It became increasingly larger division of power in the country. In Sartrean formula: "The real authority was not legal, the legal authority was not true." It was time, therefore, openly taking the reins. Time for the Council of Ministers rid of this ballast was president. Time to leave the hotel. The host of the Habana Hilton announced its decision to withdraw from public life. For best output was not given the obstinacy of the President. unfolded a mock recall with an eye on the masses to prevent it. And it was according to his calculations. Simone de Beauvoir tells a million peasants met in Havana and "banging their machetes, with a deafening noise, demanded to stay at the head of the country." who had to retire was the President, demanded the popular will. And a press campaign accusing him of embezzlement. So the head of the command to take control eventually total. Nomadisms No more, no more detours. The confirmation of his fate came from the same village. "Finally Liberation Revolution was to become," Sartre breathes at ease. The deposed president had to seek asylum. Would be more than two years locked in the Embassy of Mexico to authorize their departure to the country. Having been instrumental in the seizure of power, dealers and prostitutes were forced to leave the stage. representation had already ended. Without were able to see new industrial development and without having put an end to the misery of the countryside, the revolutionary administration issued the closure of the gambling houses and prostitution. So a decree met before find unacceptable. The sang his last public lottery number roulette winning and the only survivors went to a warehouse in the newly established film industry. would spin again for the staging of a bygone era. game tables the same fate that the spindles in the kingdom of Sleeping Beauty. "No more fun. Commander arrived and ordered it to stop, "sang a son of the time. Where was the Capri Hotel Casino opened the Red Room, a new local music. The Havana Hilton was expropriated and became appointed the Habana Libre. In the old city, ending the presidential palace as a museum dedicated to the revolutionary epic. (There you can admire a life-size reproduction of Commander Guevara). And a year after his first visit to revolutionary Cuba, returning from a trip to Brazil, Simone de Beauvoir and Jean Paul Sartre made a brief stopover in Havana. not exist in the city and night spots. No gambling or American tourists. The National hotel, half-empty, houses a congress of the militias. militants of both sexes. Very young, according to the French writer who discovers militia maneuvers throughout the city. the country, say to the French couple, awaiting an invasion. Visiting a state factory, Sartre speaks to a group of workers. Asked a question, the workers begin to respond and a leader in detention and is responsible for them. Jean Paul Sartre wanted to know how advantageous it was for them the change of political regime. But who is an official answer, and one and release it for everyone. converse with the poet Nicolas Guillen and it says that any formal search is counterrevolutionary. Privately, some writers confess that Sartre and his partner were struck by the fear of not being true revolutionaries. And begin to censor themselves. De Beauvoir compares what is one to another stay in Cuba, from one year to another: "Less happy, less freedom, but in some ways great progress." And this progress refers to agricultural production, a field that will soon (if not already) a setback to another. is about the same time that Susan Sontag visit Havana. Attend a night club La Lupe on the Network because then include the Cuban singer in his catalog of "camp". Memories of Cuba will make recurring eight years later, traveling in Vietnam. His trip to Hanoi, written in June and July 1968, is the memory of her first out "outside the premises of Western culture." The example of the Cuban revolution worth it then for some approaches to the Vietnamese revolution. But also get it away from comprehension. "You probably do not understand anything here until you delete to Cuba in my mind," confesses a break from his diary. Anyone who knows the kind of illusions that a visit to revolutionary Cuba can afford to wake up in Sartre trust in what Susan Sontag Vietnamese perceived reality. However, Trip to Hanoi shows a more chastened than Hurricane on sugar. Sontag is more skeptical, go to step less steady. The strangeness is facing much greater and, fortunately, it behaves hesitantly. Perhaps care less often offer lessons and more intimate. (That bonachonería that Sartre welcomes readers into his hotel room is extremely unlikely). Sontag in 1954, to drive the French in Hanoi, including restaurants, inns, dens and dance halls, the number of these women were thousands and were to remain on the street once they close their brothels. Lose their livelihoods as their office was legally convicted. We proceeded then to the rehabilitation of such citizens. The new life of the capital allowed any kind of optimism, all starting from the beginning. If true the news that gives Sontag, any other revolution so far has led a program of rehabilitation. Prostitutes in Hanoi were placed under the guardianship of the Women's Union. The sorority set up rehabilitation centers in the field and sent thither his eyes. Far from the city, for revolutionary thought (as for many other logics), it is corrupt, bad influences. The well away from the old procurement and customer networks. women in these centers were spoiled during the first months. Treated as children. Field aimed at curing what the big city had hurt them, would be moved even further children. During the first months, the scheme contemplated teaching reading aloud fairy tales and children's play continued practice. Therapy was directed to the replacement memories of childhood, the biography soared far beyond the first violation, the first customer, the first night in the whorehouse. To start a new life was a need for new children. Only after this period of treatment and girls, boarders received reading and writing classes, learned a trade which underpinned the future and returning adult stage. O were first in it. Finally, they gave a dowry that would enable them to find within the hierarchical husband Vietnamese society. This feat, along with stories Fairy and newly learned writing, tucked the old prostitutes in tradition. Deep past and potential, seemed to be the motto of the Vietnamese program. The of the Cuban revolution, less detailed, would focus on the secrets of the seam. Seamstresses would much of the former prostitutes. Seamstresses and taxi drivers. Taxis yellow and black belong to the National Drivers Association Revolutionary Rentals (Anchara, since in the new company adopted all acronyms), and purple taxis prostitutes working re-educated. They did otherwise, the street. TP stood for these past vehicles: Popular Transportation. "All Whores", people called them. And those drivers were immediately on the color of the cars, the popular nickname of "Violetera." seemed like a great joke organized by the authorities. After the closure of casinos and brothels, gambling and prostitution in Cuba continued life timid, frail, illegal. Everyone who ran gambling stakes acquired skill in the act of digesting the list before it fell into the hands of the police. The Gambling Havana had to stick to proclaim the luck in Venezuela or South Florida's game of luck of others. And it was for the 90, three decades after its expropriation, the Habana Libre hotel was partly foreign owned. Because after having fought until the exile, the revolutionary government favored the arrival of foreign investment. Socialism, according to a definition that was popular in Eastern Europe, was the longest way between capitalism and capitalism. Who was chief guest of the old Havana Hilton, still head of government had no choice to accept the return of some foreign companies. had torn down the Berlin Wall, the Soviet empire had disintegrated. Of the Cold War left very little standing. going to be, of course, a return curtailed. Foreign capitalists could not become homeowners at all. Investment was mixed, some state and foreign party, with a preponderance of the first of these two. Only after the Cuban economy made strong, be strong again. If global capitalism is that not sink before, as claimed in their speeches the leader of the revolution Cuban. So, in the midst of blackouts, went on the hotels. And it turned out the notice to swarms surround these pockets. In search of light, however much they give head against the glass walls. At the risk of fire. was returning to prostitution and who managed to banish the beginning of his long government refused to accept the return. West of the city advanced genetic research laboratories. Ernesto Guevara had predicted the emergence, within the revolution, the new man. What decision had crept into the neighborhood of the alchemists to forty years after the homunculus announced Guevara had not just lifted from the table of vivisection? human experimentation threw too unpredictable results. A whore had received education and could be reformed, to become a seamstress or taxi driver. And in case mix Conversely, young people trained as doctors or engineers ended up invoking the exercise of prostitution. one who worth of letters from hookers to take power could now avert the Guevara myth of the new creature with the recognition of the return to Cuba for prostitution. End so on public boast that the country he ruled with the more cultured tell the world prostitution. Man passed back to the new prostitution, as the mythologies should be revised. New Man, new prostitution, capitalism just called ... As always when faced with a case of conflict, revolutionary thought put his hand on pedagogy. Forced to dismantle much of the sugar industry, faced a crowded number of unemployed and the only solution envisioned was to send to former sugar workers, no matter their age, to do further studies. covered her unemployment with the opening of new classrooms. As a major philanthropic success proclaimed a new educational system of the unemployed. Grown men were forced to wear galoshes student of one of those characters in Chekhov, fearful of adulthood, which can delay as his years of learning. Trofimov, which appears in The Cherry Orchard with glasses and a worn student uniform. Liubov Andreievna remembers: "Then you were still a boy, a nice estudiantillo, and now is almost bald and wears glasses. Can you still remain a student? " "It seems that my fate is to be an eternal student," he acknowledges. Being a student, living in the pending delay. and declaims Trofimov extensive parliaments about the future of humanity and Russia, although personally he can not do anything. Cuarentitantos years of revolution in Cuba have achieved outstanding educational results, a pool of brilliant professionals and technicians. Have failed, however, provide sufficient target all the staff beyond the classroom. What to do with who, having passed through the classrooms are bent on prostitution? What measures make the most educated prostitution in the world? Doctor? Prostitution and pimping are not offenses under the Criminal Code in force in Cuba. Although both activities may become punishable under the consideration of danger. danger, according to Article 72 of Law 62 of the Criminal Code adopted in 1988, "in which special proclivity of a person to commit crimes, demonstrated by the condition in manifest contradiction with the norms of socialist morality ". is, pure potentiality, which dispenses with evidence. The first Revolutionary Council of Ministers had shared with previous governments to combat the error effects rather than causes. Several decades later, not unlike the revolutionary administration favored the repression was not the best ways to police. (Try an understanding of the issue would lead to the fields of economics, the devastation planned). "New Delight" name, perhaps without irony, to the prison he received the new prostitution sentenced for "dangerousness. And Sartre who asked for the austerity of the revolution Cuban ... Ten years after the last visit made to Havana, Simone de Beauvoir and Jean Paul Sartre signed, along with many other intellectuals among whom was Susan Sontag, an open letter published in Le Monde that he reported the abuse suffered in Cuba by a group of intellectuals. One of the rectangular parallelepipedal French writer spotted from his hotel room would house, over time, a health center dedicated to fight in foreign patients to the whims of a particular eye disease, retinitis pigmentosa. After suffering from strabismus, Sartre die blind.