Noche de Insomnio

Estaba solo, completamente solo, incluso el sueño nocturno me había abandonado… De pronto me pareció oír no unas palabras sino unos sonidos, unos sonidos siempre en tres suspiros Como viento y harina… “¿Qué puede ser eso? ¡No hay tiempo que perder!”, mascullé, y enderezándome el cabello con un trago de vino me puse en pie…

The Tunnel by Ernesto Sabato — Winstonsdad’s Blog

The Tunnel by Ernesto Sabato Argentian fiction Original title –El túnel Translator – Margaret Sayers Peden Source – personal copy I was kindly sent this a few years ago by Annabelle of the blog Annabookbel here review is here . I had left this on my shelves to long Sabato is a writer I had…

Paris in the Spring (1)

Originally posted on Etcetera Etcetera Etcetera:
“Paris in the Spring” Paris, France. May 2018. (6 photos) This is Part 1 of my France 2018 photo series, and also Part 1 of my Europe 2018 photo series. Perhaps you’ve noticed my absence and wondered why I haven’t made any posts for a while. The answer is…

In Search of Lost Time

We believe that we can change the things around us in accordance with our desires—we believe it because otherwise we can see no favourable outcome. We do not think of the outcome which generally comes to pass and is also favourable: we do not succeed in changing things in accordance with our desires, but gradually…


  Si cuarenta mil niños diariamente  en el purgatorio del hambre y de la sed si la tortura de los pobres cuerpos envilece una a una a las almas y si el poder se ufana de sus cuarentenas o si los pobres de solemnidad son cada vez menos solemnes y más pobres ya es bastante…

An Alpine Divorce

  by Robert Barr In some natures there are no half-tones; nothing but raw primary colours. John Bodman was a man who was always at one extreme or the other. This probably would have mattered little had he not married a wife whose nature was an exact duplicate of his own. Doubtless there exists in…

When it Rains on Sunday

When it rains on Sunday and you are alone, open to the world but no thief comes and neither drunkard nor enemy knocks at the door, when it rains on Sunday and you’re deserted and can’t imagine living without the body or not living since you have it, when it rains on Sunday and you’re…

Todos los Putos Días

Elegir un libro, y que encima nos guste, no deja de ser un riesgo “asumido” por el lector.  ¿Qué es lo primero que nos atrae de un libro? ¿La portada, la sinopsis, una recomendación…? Sea lo que sea, las grandes editoriales, pese a su  gran maquinaria de marketing, no  pueden garantizan la calidad de un …

A Bread and Butter Miss

The young have aspirations that never come to pass, the old have reminiscences of what never

Quotes from Joan Didion

  I write entirely to find out what I’m thinking, what I’m looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear. To free us from the expectations of others, to give us back to ourselves – there lies the great, singular power off self-respect. Life changes fast. Life…

Ballad of Forgotten Places

My most beautiful hiding places, places that best fit my soul’s deepest colors, are made of all that others forgot. They are solitary sites hollowed out in the grass’s caress, in a shadow of wings, in a passing song; regions whose limits swirl with the ghostly carriages that transport the mist in the dawn, and…

Address to the Moon

How sweet the silver Moon’s pale ray, Falls trembling on the distant bay, O’er which the breezes sigh no more, Nor billows lash the sounding shore. Say, do the eyes of those I love, Behold thee as thou soar’st above, Lonely, majestic and serene, The calm and placid evening’s Queen? Say, if upon thy peaceful…

Death in Spring by Mercè Rodoreda

Originally posted on Winstonsdad's Blog:
Death in Spring by  Mercè Rodoreda Spanish Catalan fiction Original title –  La mort i la primavera Translator – Martha Tennet Source – personnel copy Well, I read the first of my post-holiday reads in a day. This book came out a few years ago in the US and earlier this year…


Whenever you read a good book, somewhere in the world a door opens to allow in more light. Vera Nazarian             If we encounter a man of rare intellect, we should ask him what books he reads. Ralph Waldo Emerson Always read something that will make you look good if…

Tony’s Wife

  by Alice Dunbar-Nelson “Gimme fi’ cents worth o’ candy, please.” It was the little Jew girl who spoke, and Tony’s wife roused herself from her knitting to rise and count out the multi-hued candy which should go in exchange for the dingy nickel grasped in warm, damp fingers. Three long sticks, carefully wrapped in crispest…

City that does not sleep

I will always be on the side of those who have nothing and who are not even allowed to enjoy the nothing they have in peace.
Federico García Lorca

When a person is born…

When a person is born, he can embark on only one of three roads of life: if you go right, the wolves will eat you; if you go left, you’ll eat the wolves; if you go straight, you’ll eat yourself. Anton Chekhov My ambition is to say in ten sentences what other men say in…

A Dynamite Explosion

No one can tell, when two people walk closely together, what unconscious communication one mind may have with another.
Robert Barr


Nowadays, the demand for ghostwriters is on the rise. Some people like to use their services to write for their blogs and social media accouts to lessen their burden while others even hire them to write a book for them. Nonetheless, ghostwriting has been around for centuries, in one form or another. There are historians […]…

The Tomb and the Rose

The tomb asked of the rose: “What dost thou with the tears, which dawn Sheds on thee every summer morn, Thou sweetest flower that blows?” The rose asked of the tomb: “What dost thou with the treasures rare, Thou hidest deep from light and air, Until the day of doom?” The rose said: “Home of…

Taxi, de Carlos Zanón, una novela de película

Carlos Zanón, como es habitual, sabe cómo acariciar las llagas ocultas de sus personajes con el único fin de despertar sus miedos para que vomiten la vida al ritmo de un arrastrado tango.

Drink my soul, as if with a straw

Drink my soul, as if with a straw I know it’s bitter, intoxicating taste. I won’t disturb the torment with pleading, Oh, for weeks now I’ve been at peace. Tell me, when you’re done. No sadness, That my soul’s no more of this world. I’ll walk down that road nearby And see how children play….

On the streets of San Francisco

Originally posted on Etcetera Etcetera Etcetera:
“The fellowship of the cable car.” San Francisco, USA. October 2017 (17 photos) This is part 1 of my USA 2017 photo series. I thought I’d take a momentary pause from my posts about Cuba to post about one of my other destinations from my trip last year, San…


The artist must possess the courageous soul that dares and defies.
Kate Chopin


  Fears The sensation of being the only guest in a grand hotel on the outskirts of the city —and hearing the somnambulistic elevator and a scream— or being in an empty theater or in a lonely plaza of a lonely unknown city weighed down with suitcases and no money surrounded by escaped doves from…


Patience and I have traveled hand in hand
So many days that I have grown to trace
The lines of sad, sweet beauty in her face,
And all its veiled depths to understand.

In Black and White

My last look at Jun’ichirō Tanizaki’s work involved a short piece blending thriller and erotic themes, and today’s choice, on the surface at least, is a very similar novel. Once again, we’re off to Tokyo, in the company of a writer who becomes swept up in an intrigue involving a beautiful woman and night-time assignations. […]…

Life is fine

I went down to the river, I set down on the bank. I tried to think but couldn’t, So I jumped in and sank. I came up once and hollered! I came up twice and cried! If that water hadn’t a-been so cold I might’ve sunk and died. But it was Cold in that water!…

Do not Ask Me to Remember

  Do not ask me to remember, Don’t try to make me understand, Let me rest and know you’re with me, Kiss my cheek and hold my hand. I’m confused beyond your concept, I am sad and sick and lost. All I know is that I need you To be with me at all cost….

Was it an Illusion? A Parson’s Story

My first appointment was to a West of England district largely peopled with my personal friends and connections. It was, therefore, much to my annoyance that I found myself, after a couple of years of very pleasant work, transferred to what a policeman would call ‘a new beat,’ up in the North. Unfortunately for me, my new beat-a rambling…

Elena Ferrante — Poetry Curator

“I believe that books, once they are written, have no need of their authors. If they have something to say, they will sooner or later find readers; if not, they won’t. . . . I very much love those mysterious volumes, both ancient and modern, that have no definite author but have had and continue […]…

The Last Sixty Minutes

A clock is a little machine that shuts us out from the wonder of time.
Susan Glaspell

The Lumber Room

The young have aspirations that never come to pass, the old have reminiscences of what never
H.H. Munro (SAKI)