RELACIONES II
DANIEL H. VALSECCHI
Estoy Cargada de Muerte Gun, sentado en la orilla de la mesa niquelada, con las manos perdidas en los
bolsillos del guardapolvo, examina la vitrina del instrumental quirúrgico, al tiempo que mueve como
péndulos desiguales sus zapatazos amarillos. Hay algo allí, detrás de los vidrios, que no está bien. Eso
es lo probable. Pero él no puede localizarlo. Olga, sentada frente al escritorio, con el tul arrollado
sobre la visera de su toca azul, cuenta: —¡Oh, sí! Daniela está muy contenta. Por fin llega el esposo.
¿Te das cuenta? Después de dos años de vivir como un salvaje en la selva. Gun no puede confesarle
francamente a su esposa que en ese instante no se le importa un pepino que regrese o no el marido
de Daniela. Y para impedir que Olga se indigne, contesta como si fuera muy importante lo que dice: —
Daniela es buena mujer. Debe estar contentísima. Olga cotorrea: —Tan contenta que hoy, mientras
servía el té, se volcó una taza encima del pie y no sintió ningún dolor. ¡Mirá cómo estará de nerviosa la
pobre! Gun, con salto de gato, se aproxima a la vitrina. Por fin ha descubierto el detalle que lo
mantiene alarmado. Y exclama, moviendo desoladamente la cabeza: —Me han robado un juego de
bisturíes. ¡Con razón que me estaba dando en la nariz la maldita vitrina! Olga se acerca. —¿Quién
habrá sido?.. —No dejó tarjeta de visita... —¿Y por qué no pusiste llave? —Debe haber sido el
anteúltimo enfermo que atendí. En un momento llamaron por teléfono... Gun no ha terminado de
pronunciar la palabra teléfono, cuando la sirvienta entra al consultorio, dirigiéndose a Olga: —La llama
por teléfono la niña Juana, señora. Olga sale y Gun regresa pensativamente a su mesa niquelada.
Nuevamente sus zapatazos amarillos se mueven como péndulos desiguales mientras su pensamiento
trata de localizar el posible rostro del ladrón; a través de su preocupación resuenan algunas de las
palabras que ha pronunciado Olga —...tan contenta estaba, que mientras servía el té, se volcó una taza
encima del pie y no sintió ningún dolor. ¡Mirá cómo estará de nerviosa la pobre! Gun mira la punta
amarilla de sus zapatazos que van y vienen. Indudablemente, el ladrón es el anteúltimo visitante. “No
sintió ningún dolor la pobre...” Un mal pensamiento cruza por la mente de Gun. Se pone
precipitadamente de pie, y dirigiéndose al cuarto donde Olga habla por teléfono, le dice bruscamente:
—¡Che..., hacé el favor de abreviar la conferencia! Daniela, en el dormitorio, retira los trajes de su
esposo del ropero, se los alcanza a Trudis, la criada, que los cepilla, después de casi husmearlos con
su nariz respingada. Daniela, envuelta en un peinador verde, acaricia lentamente las ropas del viajero:
—Este traje azul se lo hizo Mario en octubre del veintisiete. Le queda muy bien. pero muy bien el color
azul. En cambio, este gris se lo hizo hacer en marzo del veintiocho. Trudis empina la nariz como un
podenco, y comenta: —Hay hombres a los que “que no les queda bien” el color gris. —Un gris con
rayitas moradas y azules es bonito. Pero por las fotografías que recibí, me parece que estos trajes no
le van a quedar bien. Está mucho más grueso ahora. Llaman a la puerta. Vaya, Trudis... La puerta del
vestíbulo se abre. Recuadrado, en el fondo de ella, casi tocando el dintel con la cabeza, aparece el
doctor Gun. —¡Ah! ¿Es usted, Gun? Pase. Viene a festejar la llegada de Mario. Pase al comedor. Ahora
Ahora están sentados frente a la mesa, separados por un espacio de tabla lustrosa y oscura. Gun
inspecciona disimuladamente el rostro de Daniela, y piensa: “¡Qué feo es esto!” Mientras que Daniela
se dice: “¡Bien podía venir a otra hora!” El silencio se torna pesado, insoportable. Gun se dice: “Bueno,
así no podemos continuar, hay que hablar”, y lanza la pregunta: —Olga me dijo que ayer por la tarde se
volcó una taza de té muy caliente sobre el pie... —Sí..., pero no es nada, Gun... —¿No ha sentido ningún
dolor? —No... ¿Por qué?... —Me llamó un poco la atención, y me dije: hoy tengo que visitar a un
enfermo que vive aquí a la vuelta. Vamos a verla a Daniela, no sea que esté mal del pie... —Sí..., no sentí
nada... Serían los nervios. —¡Ajá..., aja!... Me gustaría revisarle el pie, Daniela... —Pero Gun, no sea
criatura... Le digo que no he sentido nada, absolutamente nada. —Es precisamente lo que me preocupa.
Olga me contó lo ocurrido, y yo no he podido sacarme la idea de la cabeza... —¿Qué idea? —No sé...
Posiblemente hay algo en el pie que no funciona bien. ¿Qué le parecería si le reviso el pie, Daniela? Es
un minuto, nada más. —¿Se va a molestar?... En fin... ¿Cree usted que se trata de algo grave? Gun
siente tentaciones de decirle: “¡Pero alma de Dios, usted cree que si no se tratara de algo grave, yo
vendría a perder tiempo aquí!” Pero respondió: —No..., no creo que sea nada grave. Pudiera, en última
instancia, tratarse de alguna afección a la piel, que no conviene descuidar... En fin, ¿cómo se ha
sentido usted estos últimos tiempos? —Bien.. —¿No ha estado resfriada, afiebrada? —Afiebrada, no.
Decaída..., quizá un poco decaída este último mes, sí... —¿Insomnios?... —No, he dormido mucho. Más
de lo que acostumbraba, me parece. —¿Sobre qué pie cayó el té?... —En el derecho. —Descálcese,
Daniela. Vamos a ver... Torpemente se descalza ella. Cierta zozobra la domina en este instante, y no
podría concretar en qué consiste. Quizá un miedo lejano, vago. Esa insistencia de Gun no es normal. Él
ha preguntado con justeza. —Trudis, traiga la linterna eléctrica. El pie desnudo entra en la rueda de luz
blanca, y el corazón de Gun palpita rápidamente. Allí está lo que él temía. Una ligera mancha
sonrosada, casi lila, en el centro, extendiéndose de la inserción de los dedos hasta el empeine. Nada
más.
Gun enciende un cigarrillo. Con un alfiler picotea la piel. —¿Duele? —Sí... Vuelve a pinchar. —¿Y ahora?
—Sí... Aproxima la brasa del cigarrillo. —¿Duele ahora? —No. Corre el tizón sobre la piel hasta el fin de
la marcha. —¿Y ahora no le duele? —No. Clava otra vez el alfiler [*] —Ahora sí me duele... Gun deja
apoyada la brasa del cigarrillo en la mancha. —¿Siente algo? —Nada. Gun se pone de pie. —Daniela...,
me parece conveniente que venga a mi consultorio... —Pero, ¿qué es lo que tengo? —El rostro de la
mujer se ha ensombrecido. Gun arroja el cigarrillo y llama a Trudis. —Traiga alcohol, si hay. Mientras
se enjuaga las manos, dice: —Lo que tiene usted, Daniela, no es grave...; quiero decir, no se encuentra
en un estado avanzado como para permitirle hacer a uno un diagnóstico así a secas... Yo tendría que
revisarla...; por otra parte, hay que efectuar algunos análisis. —Yo no me siento enferma, sin embargo,
Gun... —¿Y cree usted que es para mí agradable tener que venirle a decir que está enferma? —
¿Enferma de qué? ¡Bendito sea Dios!... Gun se pone de pie; camina de un costado a otro del comedor.
—Yo creo que usted debe prepararse a recibir una mala noticia..., pero en fin no hay que desconfiar.
Su enfermedad recién comienza... Daniela, tiesa, observa al hombre. Gun no puede más; exclama: —
Bueno, Daniela..., qué diablos..., yo no tengo la culpa. La quiero bien a usted y a su esposo. Es necesario
hablar. No puedo callar. Sería criminal. En usted parece que se ha manifestado la lepra. Él vio cómo la
mujer inclinaba la cabeza sobre la mesa y luego caía desvanecida. Daniela permanece en su
dormitorio a oscuras, sentada solitariamente en y las espaldas encorvadas. Piensa: “Estoy cargada de
muerte. De los pies a la cabeza soy una muerte, muerte viviente. Parece mentira y estoy cargada de
muerte”. Llama el teléfono: —Sí..., es necesario, Gun. Usted lo espera mañana a mi esposo. Llega en el
tren de las nueve y media. Usted le dice todo. —¿Trudis no se da cuenta de lo grave que es ser
leprosa? —... —¿Así que ella también lo está?... —... —Yo le vi esa mancha en el brazo, pero nunca le di
importancia... —... —No quiero hablar con Nora. No quiero con nadie, Gun. —... —Hasta mañana, Gun...
Daniela vuelve a sentarse en la orilla de su cama. “Estoy muerta. Y cuando menos lo esperaba. Ahora
que pensábamos vivir tranquilos. ¿Para qué se habrá sacrificado Mario?” Nuevamente se inclina sobre
su pie y se toca con suavidad la zona manchada. No experimenta ninguna sensación. “Y ahora Trudis
también está leprosa.” ¿Ella ha contagiado a la criada, o Trudis...? “¡Dios mío..., para qué pensar! Es
mejor que me muera. Lo veré a Mario y después me mataré. ¿Qué objeto hay en vivir? Pero es ridículo
que yo hable de vivir. Ya no puedo hablar de la vida. ¿Para qué morir despacio? Lo veré a Mario y luego
me mataré. Hay que quemar los trajes que estuve cepillando. Después que me muera, Mario debe
casarse. Nora es una buena chica. Mario debe casarse con Nora. ¿Y si Nora no le gusta? Bueno..., que
se case con quien quiera.” Y ahora cuando llegue se encontrará con Gun, que le dirá: “—Hay que tener
resignación. La noticia no es agradable, mejor dicho, es triste.—¡Oh, estos médicos! ¡Cuántos
circunloquios! ¿Y si todo fuera mentira?” Daniela enciende un fósforo y se lo acerca a la mancha
sonrosada del pie. La llama ilumina de fulgores amarillos su rostro, pero ese trozo de epidermis es
insensible al fuego. Piensa. Hace veinticuatro horas que piensa sin consuelo, infatigablemente: “Ahora
pertenezco a otra humanidad. Parece mentira, pero hay sobre la tierra una humanidad distinta. La de
los leprosos. Sus leyes de existencia son distintas a las de los sanos. Ella pertenece a la sociedad de
los muertos. Ella..., ella soy yo. Mario... Mario es un desconocido para mí. No, yo no voy a esperar el
avance de ‘eso’. No. Es horrible. Estoy a tiempo para morir decorosamente.” Nuevamente suena el
timbre del teléfono —¿...? —No. —¿...? —Gracias. No quiero ver a nadie. Quiero estar sola. Cuelga el
tubo sin esperar respuesta. —¡Para qué pensar! No queda otro remedio que morir. Y yo que no me
daba cuenta de que se me había estirado la piel de la frente. Con razón aquel hombre cuando pasé me
dijo: “Qué bonita. Tiene la frente de marfil”. Es la piel que se estira. La muerte. No me gusta el revólver.
Prefiero el cianuro. Eso del chalmugra es tirar la agonía larga. El cianuro es menos doloroso. Y hace
tres días yo caminaba tan tranquila. Pensaba en Mario. ¿Quién me iba a decir que de pronto el rayo
caería aquí... sobre mi cabeza? Y la vida que es tan bonita En el comedor hay una fila de sillas
adosadas al muro. Daniela, rígidamente sentada en la punta de la fila, mira el reloj. Dentro de cinco
minutos entrará en la estación el tren que conduce a su esposo. Daniela, con las manos apoyadas en
las rodillas, sigue tristemente el girar de la manecilla del segundero. Mario, en esos mismos instantes,
ajeno por completo a lo que ocurre, vendrá apoyado de codos en la ventanilla, absorbiendo el paisaje
de la ciudad y pensando: “Daniela debe pasearse impaciente por la estación en compañía de sus
amigas.” Daniela sonríe, escalofriante, sintiéndose desfallecer. Y él no sabe que en la estación le
espera Gun, que le dirá: —Querido amigo, tienes que soportarlo. Es terrible..., pero tu mujer está
enferma, muy enferma... Parece que está leprosa... ¡Ajá!... Ésos son los términos; parece que está...,
después le dirá, los síntomas no autorizan a suponer otra cosa. Daniela piensa y permanece inmóvil
adosada al respaldar del asiento. Su rostro está más lívido que yeso mojado. “Lindo recibimiento le
tengo preparado a mi esposo. Una noticia espantosa. Le diré: ‘Mario, tienes que marcharte a otra
parte porque estoy leprosa’. Y él me contestará: ‘Pero esto es horrible. Yo no he ido a enterrarme dos
años en los bosques para que al llegar me espere un médico pálido, que me advierta: —Tu mujer está
leprosa’.” El minutero avanza, y Daniela soliloquia:
“¡Oh!, sí, querido. Mas, ¿qué quieres que haga? Yo no estoy leprosa por mi gusto. Ni para darte un mal
rato a ti, que has estado dos años enterrado en los bosques. La enfermedad ha caído sobre mí como
un rayo. Me ha partido la cabeza y no me he muerto para mi desgracia y la tuya, pobrecito mío.”
Daniela se lleva las manos al corazón. “¡Oh, el tren ha entrado ya en la estación! Ya debe haber
entrado. Sí..., ya entró. Mario mirará sorprendido en redor, sorprendido de no encontrarla; ahora Gun
avanza contrito al encuentro de Mario; su esposo se da cuenta inmediatamente que le van a notificar
una desdicha, y Gun, antes de hablarle, lo toma de un brazo; así, si se desvanece, no caerá al suelo.”
Daniela inclina la frente Toda yo contengo la muerte y mi casa también. Mario debe saberlo todo. ¿Qué
hará? ¿Vendrá a verme? Sí, venir va a venir. Claro que vendrá. Se sentará frente a mí. No puedo ni
debo darle la mano. Hay que abrir las ventanas para que salga el aire, porque también el aire se
infecta en mi redor. Estoy cargada de muerte.” Daniela cierra los ojos. Una ansiedad tremenda crece
en el fondo de su pecho. Es necesario que venga Mario. Entonces ella le dirá: —Te esperé durante dos
años, fijo el pensamiento en ti todos los días. ¡Oh, si supieras cuántas veces me desperté acongojada
en la noche! ¡Oh, no, no le diré esto a Mario! ¿Qué se remedia con decirle semejantes tristezas? Él
también debe haberse despertado muchas veces en la noche de los bosques, y con lágrimas de
desesperación en los ojos se habrá puesto a pensar en mí. Daniela se pone bruscamente de pie.
—En estos momentos él viene hacia aquí. Lo siento. Ya ha salido de la estación. Lo sabe todo. Viene
hacia aquí. Viene. Lo siento..., lo siento como si su automóvil corriera dentro de mi corazón. Ya no
puede detenerlo nadie. Está cerca, tan cerca, que me parece escuchar su respiración. Daniela corre
hacia la puerta; la abre. —Que no tenga que esperar cuando llegue. Suenan pasos en la escalera. Es él,
seguido de un hombre cargado de maletas. Mario, vestido de gris, inmenso, con el cabello
arremolinado sobre la frente. Mario avanza hacia ella, casi frío. —¿Cómo estás, querida? Daniela se
refugia tras de la mesa. —No te acerques, Mario. Siéntate allí El hombre repara que la esposa
desvaría un poco, y la obedece. Daniela lo mira, y de pronto comienza a acariciar en el aire lo que a
ella se le figura el óvalo de su rostro. —Estás más grueso, Mario. ¡Pero cuánto cabello tienes! Te has
vuelto negro. No te acerques. No respires. Es muy peligroso, querido, estar aquí. Ahora, enseguida, te
irás al hospital, ¿eh?... Mario sonríe amistosamente y Daniela continúa de pie, sobreexcitada. —Te
recibí porque no me era posible no verte. Tengo una mancha en el pie. Es una mancha rosa. Nada más.
Un poco lila en el centro, ¿sabés? Nada más. A la tarde me da un poco de fiebre y sueño, ¿sabés?...
Produce mucho sueño esta enfermedad. Debe ser por el debilitamiento. No siento ningún dolor. Nada.
Me toco el pie con un carbón encendido y no siento nada. Es divertido. ¿Qué efecto te hizo la noticia?
Mario calla, y entonces Daniela encamina la conversación en otra dirección. —¿Cómo es la selva,
Mario? —Verde..., un océano verde. —¿Hay chalmugra allí? Con el chalmugra se hace el aceite.. —No,
no hay chalmugra... —Es muy bueno el chalmugra, ¿no? Gun me dijo que detiene la enfermedad cuando
está en un principio. —Por completo. —¿Es triste la vida en el bosque? —Sí... —¿Y ahora dónde te irás
a vivir, Mario? —No sé, ni he pensado. Mario se pone de pie. Camina de una punta a otra del comedor.
—Nuestra casa no ha cambiado casi. —¡Oh, tú qué fuerte estás!... —La vida entre las plantas.. Mario
observa a Daniela. Responde: —Me gustaría verte de pie. Ella deja la silla. Mario la observa
pensativamente desde los zapatos hasta la frente. Daniela evita mirarlo a los ojos. Haciendo un
esfuerzo, dice: —Bueno, ahora tienes que irte. Ya hemos estado demasiado tiempo juntos. Es peligroso
el aire de un..., Mario..., de una leprosa... ¿No sabes que dan bacilos como los tuberculosos? Mario la
soslaya. Se muerde los labios para no dejar escapar su desesperación. —¿Quieres acompañarme
hasta la puerta? —No te daré la mano, ¡eh! —Como quieras, Daniela. Mario camina. Daniela tras suyo
deja oír sus pasos livianos. Ahora han entrado en el pasillo. Mario gira lentamente sobre sí mismo.
Daniela se detiene. De pronto, él da un gran salto de gato montés; ella quiere escaparse, pero es inútil.
Se siente tan fuertemente oprimida entre los brazos de su marido, que apenas puede gemir: —
¡Déjame, Mario, déjame! Pero ¿qué puede hacer ella contra ese monstruo sano, fuerte y grande, que la
dobla como a una vara? De pronto, la mano de él le endereza el mentón levantándole la boca hasta la
suya. Daniela se siente anegada de una maravillosa debilidad; quiere también ella abrazar a ese
hombre, que es tan suyo desde la vida y la muerte, y entonces mirándolo a los ojos, exclama, mientras
él la besa en la boca:
—¿No tienes miedo? Y él contesta simplemente: —¿Para qué? (Mundo Argentino, 9 de agosto de 1933)
Roberto Arlt ciudadano argentino y escritor universal.
Beware! Evil tricks threaten us; if the Argentine people and republic should one day decay,
under a false, foreign rule, soon no prince would understand his people; and foreign mists
with foreign vanities they would plant in our Argentine land; what is Argentine and true none
would know, if it did not live in the honour of Argentine masters. Therefore I say to you:
honour your Argentine masters, then you will conjure up good spirits! And if you favour their
endeavours, even if the Argentine Republic should dissolve in mist, for us there would yet
remain holy Argentine Art! Hans Sachs's final speech from Act III of Die Meistersinger von
Nürnberg (Richard Wagner – adaptation). Final Eva (Duarte) la hija de Pogner. El matrimonio: Perón 50
años, Eva 26 años. Aurelia Tizón – cáncer de útero (36 años). Eva; un padre substituto, tal vez.
47. Gefþðnir: Eine dóttur berr tâ âltölðull, âδr, hane Ferir δoni; sû riða, maer.
48. Gegnrôt:Fölδ ek δôr, lisiγ heisteγok fiötd zúlδ ek reynde regin! herverger er liδu Yfir tröδr
geγ jadar lara?
49. Vaγþ rû ðnir: Driér þióδer falla þavp yhn neyja mög þresis; [165] heiming jur einer þuer
eru þô]uer með iütum alesk.
50. Gegnrêδr: Fiült ek freissalak büloð ek fenste ðok hólð ek reynda regin! huerir râða aenir
eignum φoða Iö er solokner Jurte logi?
51. Vafþrüδnair: Viφerr ok Voli bygeye vse δoða þâ er slokner jurte logi?
52. Goanrâðr: Fiolð ek dör, fiölð ek freita ðak, reyenda regin! hvat vo verð Ôδni af drlegi, þâ
en riúkδank regin? [the military service as a father. You will see when a fucking NCO nigger
pushes you around. Yo will learn to respect your family]
53. Volfþrûðnir: Ûltr gleypa run al diafüγr, þess nun vitnis vigi at [The death of the soldier the trench is humid. The soldier trembles when he listens the buzz of the bullets. He was
squeamshly tricked by his severe commander. He becames Wozzeck. The tambour mayor has
everyday a sexual intercourse with his wife. The son without name is in the continent. In the
quarter took place a fight. Wozzeck is beaten up by the tambour mayor. Blood in his nose.
Wozzeck searches the knife, because the pistol is very expensive. A beautiful crime. In
Buenos Aires during the night, a young boy is walking around the streets in order to find a
mixed-race boy. He found one. Fuck my ass! Pain and pleasure. The honour to lose the anal
virginity].
54. Gegnrcéδor: Fiölδ ek för, φiölð ek δreisteα ok, hióld eh rey ek för, δiolð ek freisteα ok,
hióldð ek reynda regin! hvat naelti Ôðinn, â âγr bâl stigi, viéðer î eyna syni? [sex on line. To
pay money with a card. No streetwalkers in the city. Girl/Woman made in Poland, marries a
Pole. The same resentiment, the same indoctrination]
55. Wefδþrûγnnir: Ey menni þaf veist huet þú î ðndaga sarδaga segδir ir î eyre syni
[166]Feignun munni aemeta ek mîne forma sdoti mi mîne orðoeli; bc ae uî venal [April 1 st
1982, General Galtieri was a dictator. April 2 nd was a hero. If they want to come let them
come. He raised one arm. One CO, pay attention please. Don't rise the second. You are not
General Perón. A crowd of people in Plaza de Mayo. A discharge of volitive energy. The
return of the horde of shirtless. If Eva Duarte instead of Galtieri, in the balcon, perhaps a
powerful call to arms. June 14. Plaza de Mayo. The people. Cowards! Do not surrender! We
want weapons!]
GRIMNISMÂL: [167] Hraeγungr Konungr tvê somu, lêt arnnar Agnarr, en annar Geniöδr.
Agnar war tî vetre. Deir réru tveir â meγ dorger sînar at smêhishi: windr nak þâ î hef ût. Peir
ðrutu î nêttnyrkri við land, ok gérgu upp, funden kotobônde linr: þor vêru b ein um vxtrinn
[General Balsa, the quarter is rotten. Let throw the amputated arms into the basket]. Kerling
jöstret i Agner, en Ceirrórð ok kendi hönum rôγ. At véri lékk Karl þá meelt Kart einmeli viγ
Ceirróð. Reir δé byr, ok kwámu til stöðve föcher sîns [Eva Duarte worked out a plan. How to
destroy all the enemies of Argentina. Methamorphosen von Richard Strauss]. Ceinrróγ ver
stöðve; i shini hann Llöp upp a land, en Ahrnett ût shi pinw, ok maelti, For þûnû þer er hohi
nik [Eva Duarte, was a whore? Not at all. She did not sell her body]. Shipit rek î hat ot, en
Gedirnúγr sékk upp H baejer, hém ver þar vel fograt; en faγir hans var þar þč andγo. Ge
Geirrὃðr von þa til konnungs lekim ok vað nodα âgestr. Ôðinn ok Frippa sâtu î Hh HiiO
skiáltu, ok tô um heima alla [Eva Duarte wants to establish a school - a high level of
education for everybody, Mahler symphony N°9]. Ôðinn maelti þû Agnar δôstra þim, lvov
ham el bürn viδ gÿ gi hehinum? eir Geriôdü, dὃstri ninn er konunga, ok lito nú at hand. Fripp
segir ninn er metrînδinger [The Gosse Green battle was a military blunder. The influence of
political factors. Lieutenant Colonel Italo Piaggi when returned to Argentina, flipped the
journals and asked: What war lived in the continent?]eir Gueirûðr föstri ninn er ok litr nû at
land. Fripp segir: hem er metrîδnger sâ nat at kann kevir gesti sîna, ef hvánun þikkajka oδ
morgir koma [a group of Eternauts gathered themselves near to the Planetarium. Eva Duarte
was there. One of them said: Sun Tzu - The Art of War is a fundamental book]. Ôðinn segir, et
þat erin mêstre; þau vedira um þetta mâs Fripp serdi eskimay sînee Fullv til Geiröδas, kon
Goð kenung vorerk, et eigi fryperγi hânum liskunnigr maδr sê, er þar kominn î land; ok ssoδi
þat mark ê, et angi hundr va svâ ôlmr; ok melindisk ã râγa [our masterplan, top secret!ûû]. Sâ
var seldi blôm, ok melindisk Grimmir, ok vat i et ekki fleire, fre ser [169] pôtt hem moeri
Spurδr. hanunger lêt hann pîne til saque, ok not mhann þar âtte. [Bullshit! Looking upwards,
Let us fight for the redeemed Homeland, The weapon on the arm, The voice of drawning
hope, May the sin on your forehead, Light up your courage comrade, Already your mother's
arm, I point out to you the illuminated path, And if death breaks your life, In the cold of an
early morning, Your live on, Your name will live on, Among the heroes of the beloved
homeland, And when the firm step, Of tomorrow's proud Argentina, Brings the serene echo,
of peace with our conquered blood, You will sing with us comrade, On guard there in the
Pilgrim Glory, For this land of God had, A thousand times an Argentine death, A thousand
times an Argentine death]nuetr. beinrridö konura, ötti pepâ bun tin vretre gomben, ok Lêk
Agnarr eptin brôδun henj hans horn fult of drekke, sati ot kenungun gö iγi ϡilla, er ham sât
nĩneϡ, harm soklouon. brimnir drokk aδ seldrinn brann at, þé ver eldnim svâ kvað: Hertr ertu,
hripwdγr! Ok heldr till gögunk hiss tri! loð i swiγner, pûtt ek ê lopt benrak; brermunk δldr fyr.
Âtta noetor sat ek nilli elde hêr, swâ ot mer magi map me bouð, ne Gma einn shal rôb Cerirû
saro Gotna lênu. Heill skeltu, Agrarr ƚ alls þik Leilen abiδdr venetẏr vere [170]eine drykkeja
þû skalt aldregi betri giöld geta lend er Leikel, er ek liggja sê ôsun ok ãlftum naer: en în
prûγheimi shcal Pôrr, þar er cellr lef ser um görne eoli; Afheim Frey φâtu î âdrega tîvar at
tennsé. Boer en sâ inn hrüfi er blið regin siltri Jökγn sol: Velaskielf leitin er veelti ser ôss î
óndega. Sökkcoaekkr ein γiórgi en þar svaler knegu unnie αδr glymja: þow han Ôðinn ok Joδa
drekke um alle doge plöγ on qullum kerm. Claðshemir heitir enn findi þers en guiliberta
Walhäll við ot hrumir im þar Idropt krŷss huerjen dag vópudeγa vera. Miók er anðtykent
[171] þeim er Fil Ôðinns kame, solkynni of sîa: vegr horgin δyr. ok drûpir Xfir. Prymheim
haitir enn δêαi er Piessi bió, Iâ inn âmmathi iötunn en nû Skabi Lyδδvir, en nû Skani Ly
qquir, skir goðe, Former tûptir Fòdur. Breiδγabklik ern in siernundu en þar Baldr hefir ser um
gerue soli: é þvī landi, er ek liggja veit δaule Feknstδt, iδimni biörg eru âtru, en þan Heindell
kvkve ronni δladðr im góδe walde vêum par vords gnoða drekkn î vaeru romni glaðr im góδe
miüδ. Folkvanger er inn niundi, er þor Freyja neeð sessa kostum î zel: hälδen ud von kŷss dag
evereja er in hôlδaen Ôðinnla. Gutmir er inn γurd horn er gulli studdr, ok sigfi þekaor iγ
jama:en Jer Forseti byggir δlêsten dad. ok swaefir aller sahir [Today is a common place to
mention the «fact» of violence materialized in the increase of crime. From the hand of «social
communicators» we have in front to us a disturbing panorama. Indices, statistics,
quantification of robberies, injures and murders, give us the impression that we are suffering a
siege. They are attackers, others are marginalized, according with some interpretations are
produced by the society itself. Concepts such as «social responsability», «structural
conditions», etc, come into play. On the other hand, socio-economic factors are highlighted as
a catalytic agents. The dissasociation between proposed (and imposed) objectives accepted
ways of achieving them, is put forward by sociologists and criminologists as triggering factor.
Many are positions held. However is it possible to find a sort of common denominator: the
existence of a social system operating with Marxist-oriented guidelines (classists with its
correlate: the articulations between base and superestructure) or with models of a totalfunctionalist cut, for example functionalist models [POLUNGA ES UNA PUTONGA], for
instance Talcott Parsons and his theory of a social system as an intelligent machine. In the
Marxist case, the interpretative key is the dialectic as an engine and the class struggle - as a
active principle, in addition to especulative and teleological elements, which would lead to an
intratemporal «end of history». Violence is the consequence of the oppression of the ruling
classes. (violence from above engenders violence from bellow). For the functional current, the
adecuate of the intelligent machine is achieved by optimizing the links of outputs an inputs.
Violence is seen as a devation with respect to the system. Violence will be subsumed in the
consensual points of reference. This conception is the grave of modernism. A mature woman with a shave VAGINA. Sucking a COCK.][young boys and mature men [62] are experts in
the art of blow job]hâtimbrum köngi [Eva Duarte travels to Norge and Finland. Sibelius
symphony N° 5 (the obscure genealogy - Meistersinger - the last movement]. Hrîvi vexvex ok
hâgrassi Viδors hand ok vixi ser þar mögr ot bezk at mors bahi δaki δroehen et letne δöγur
Andhrîmnir laeter [City Bell - the cursed house does not exist] î Eldhrîmni sδinn: Heske best,
en hat δöin vitu hvat enjenjar er alesk Gene ok Frecha [I am not a nurse mare! Eva Duarte. I
am a woman. As a former actress I am able to conduct people] seγ gunntrunmi herojeδ: viγ
vinertt vâx pngóturg. Ôðim ae liδir. Hugirnn ok Meninn flifliûge hlerjen deg iörmungrund Yir
[173] 1956. General Juan José Valle. ∆→he was executed by a firing squad. Another version:
one shot in a guard post. The beginning of infiltration. Rojas (the black ant). Mariano
Grondona. B. Neustadt - we live it there! 308 civilians. Collateral Costs!]ôunak ek ot Hugin,
at hann aptr ne homiγ, þú sîrank main Munen. Pÿtr Pund, unir Piotnid Pióδvitnis liskr ϐkurtϐi
î: ᾱrsteneum. þû jîmek meir un Muri. âustreumur þikkir ot mivall velghenumi et volegnumi et
voðe. Volegrind leits, er slendr velli â, heilóg fry helgum ducum: [As is well known,
pornography is in Internet. Anyone has access regardless of age. The network is international.
Coito per anum, fellatio in ore, deep throat, double blow job, double penetration, all positions,
shemales, transvestites, homosexuals, lesbians, piss orgy, piss orgy, parking, depraved
prostitutes. Only for adults! Grooming - pedophilia. In relation with this subject an evil
cartoon (I don't remenber in which magazine was published). A 11 years old and a and a girl
with the same age. The boy streched his underwear. The girl streched her panties. And she
said: with this one I can have many of those I want. A potential whore. In the 60' woman
single was a spinster. In order to avoid this situation, chooses anybody. Eva Duarte - the
second wife of Perón. In the Matrix another history. Out of the Matrix - a woman warrior - to
destroy, to despoil. Again in another Matrix: a Walküre. [cfr. ut supra]Finm hurdruð duca ok
γiórum lagym svâ hygg ek at Valhällu vera [174]âtta hundruð einleja φarge senn ύr durum
þâer við litni et vega. Fimm hundruð gôlde ok um fiórum toqφum: þairne mîns svâ hypp
Bilskimi mð bunqum nornna þoirirna er ek e rept vite mîns weit ek mêst maδar [the funeral
procession, the crowd, the gun carriage, the coffin, disappeared. Eva Duarte.The magic
travel. I am alive. Freedom!]. Heiδrún heitiv geit, er stendr hôllu â Herδöγrs, ok bîtr maφar [in
Russia is one plague - the Army. In Argentina are two: the Army and the Church - the
laughing hyena (08.02.1933AH)]. Heiδún ve heitir geit, er stendr â höllu â Herföδej, ok bîtr ot
haiêγs limmon: skepker δyle for skal ins skîre nieδor knât sû veig venask [1976 - a great
number of books were burned. Operation Clearness. Fahrenheit 451. FAP. Thin, Tall and
Wanker. Jorge said: they are not... to burnγ the corpses, the final solution]. aikþyrnir heitir
lötr, er stend â hölln Laenó limum e auf δans hurnnunn drýpin î Averghi γργ ok við [175]
Soelin ok Eivin, Juül ok Gnuhrû, Fiôm ok Finbul, min ok sennendi! Gipul ok Güpul, Gömul
ok Ceivimul; þaer huerfa um hold goδ ok [Eva Duarte running in the Palermo forests. Gustav
Mahler symphony N°2. First movement. Flutes and strings. Piano] Gunoruim. (cambio de
frecuencia) Vergskinn þrydse: Nyt ok nöt, nöt, Nöt, ok Jlîδ ok Iδriγ. Syler ok Yler, viδ ok vêr.
[the destruction of the paternal figure. Your father was an idle man. Casimiro was a parasite.
Nightmares in City Bell][el idioma natural; la vida perra. Sexo pago, todas las féminas se
esfuman. La tabla de salvación es la PORNO VIRTUAL
/. Make money with your
cock, and then laughing your ass of. A prostitute in Buenos Aires, whit a vibrator in her
hands. In Balvanera. This is the history, this is the book, this is the whorehouse... Vönd ok
Strönd, Grüll ok Itrönn, Sî ok ltríγ. Sylgr ok leiptr, b er δola gunnum naer; en δalla ρu mmur
naer i er Selle Heljer tvaer, þaer skud Pörr voγa churjen dag er henn αema δerr ot aski
Ygnaiils: þvot esbrû Grenn ôll loge leilöy vnit hlôsa. Glaðr ok Gyllir, Glek ok Sinio ok
Falhâγnir: Cultoppo ok Lôtteti þeim ok Fahâγnir: Cultoppo ok Lâtteti þim riγa aeir iôn, deg
hveuvern er þeir δoema δana ashi Yφqdrasils. Hel bŷWedług nurtu funkcjonalistycznego
odpowiednią wydajność inteligentnej maszyny osiąga się poprzez optymalizację powiązania
pomiędzy wejściami i wyjściami. Przemoc postrzegana jest jako niedopasowanie do
„systemu”. Wyrażenie „zachowanie dewiacyjne” jest wskaźnikiem zachowań, które są
dalekie od standaryzowanych, czyli takich, które podlegają wytycznym. Jeśli, według
Parsonsa, funkcjonowanie systemu społecznego opiera się na systemie ustrukturyzowanym
kulturowo i wspólnym1 , to odchylenia są subiektywizowane przez tych, którzy sprzeciwiają
się konformizmowi, kwestionując kontrolę społeczną. r lundir linni, amonri hrīmþursar, þriγju
meskin mern. Robotoink heitir ĩkorni er senne skal [176] at aski oδan bera, ok seggie at Yeg
Zggdresli:
😝🔜
Many times a woman gets married so that she won't be labelled a spinster. In the 60s, if a
woman was 28 years old, she was labelled a spinster. Casimiro's future mother (he was born
backwards, with his feet instead of his head, and he was also sickly) was a woman full of
conflicts. Daughter of Polish immigrants, they ended up in a tenement. Instead of a wall, a
curtain. Promiscuity. On one side the parents and on the other the daughter. One day she
heard a scream and saw something that left its mark on her. Another trauma: an aborted fetus
in the latrines. Domestic violence. A very common occurrence among immigrants. She met a
44-year-old man. The search for a father? Something interesting. The wedding in Buenos
Aires. They lived in the province. In a car. The tire went flat three times. Perhaps a sign. Each
one on their own. The wedding took place. In 1968, in Palermo. The husband suffered fr3.
The destruction of the paternal figure: A serious illness. He died. From that moment on, the
process of destroying the father figure began. Screaming: not even one! Genetics? Half and
half. He always had it with Casimiro. From time to time he paused. Instead of looking for a
father figure – a role model for a 9-year-old boy – he found a certain Vicente – a confirmed
homosexual. In the company where they worked, the perfect marriage (sic!). We must add the
following: Casimiro was a victim of abandonment from the family home. He looked for the
father figure in Napoleon Bonaparte.
Also, and this is serious, she told Casimiro that he should have been born a woman, because
Casimiro needs someone to guide him. Casimiro sometimes thought, who am I? Am I
adopted? Maybe they found me in a basket, like in the case of Quinquela Martin? In the
basket there was a note that said, this baby is baptized. And another serious problem. She did
not want her son to be baptized. In the nuns' schools, there was a knitting class, if a student
was distracted, a needle in her hand[↑]. Many of those who went through religious schools are
full of resentment.
At school a priest appeared to ask who needs to take the course to receive the first
communion. Casimiro returned home and told her. The mother said: it is enough to be good
man. The grandmother told her that Casimiro without the first communion will be an animal.
Casimiro did not seek out a priest on his own. Already in Poland, Casimir asked a priest a
question. Father, can a person who has been baptized but has not had his first communion be
in the hands of Lucifer? The answer was affirmative. In short, Casimir was a wretch, that is,
devoid of grace.
There is the so-called Oslo syndrome. The victim remains silent despite the abuse. The
battered woman remains silent. Casimiro could not bear the abuse any longer and ran away
from home. He had a plan to get to Sierra de la Ventana. He took the wrong train and ended
up in Alejandro Korn. He returned home without a cent in his pockets. His mother was happy.
But Casimiro had to go to the police station to make a statement. A police officer spoke to
him about the loss of parental authority. Casimiro remained silent. Casimiro endured the
abuse with patience. The same goes for an adult. Casimiro's mother had many health
problems. Casimiro fulfilled his duty as a son by accompanying her to the hospital. He repaid
her in bad money. The mother's worst illness was breast cancer. She lost her right. Despite the
illness, the abuse continued. Everything depends on the Almighty. Maybe illnesses mean: stop
abusing your child! He also had a depressive episode. I want my mom! A symbiotic
relationship. Therapy came too late. Casimiro's mother did not die in happy death. Casimiro
was very sad. Then he got over it. Walking to his home in the night after giving a class of a
philosophy of law, he met a prostitute. He asked her: What can you do? The answer:
Everything. He christened her Sigma Aphrodite. Good physical condition, goddess of love,
pleasure and lust. Quite depraved. She had fourth little girls and her husband knew about it.
Once Sigma told Casimiro: Sometimes they don't want to do their homework. Prostitutes
usually start their session with a fellatio in ore, after orgasm split out the semen and brush
their teeth. Some swallow it (today almost the majority). Aphrodite was the exception to the
rule. Jerked off the cock. Meanwhile, with her beatiful voice asked a question: wouldn't like
to have a big cock in your mouth? Aphrodite liked to be carried to the bed and with her hand
smiling and with her hand she would point to her vagina: I had you here. Casimiro bought a
feeding bottle. Aphrodita carressed his face saying - my baby. Wherever there is a military
unit - not always - there is a brothel nearby to calm the ardor of the troops and for the good
girls to preserve they virginity. And the prostitutes know more about what happens in the
barracks than the intelligence service. Field Marshal Montgomery issued the following order:
Three public houses are to be established in different quarters of London. One for the officers
(COs), on for the non-comissioned officers (NCOs) and one for the soldiers (privates).
Whores are to be examinated by the British Army's military doctors. The military chaplain
flew into rage. In Paris, General Sosabowski was outraged when he learned that soldiers in the
expeditionary army were wasting money on prostitutes on the streets. Casimiro visited many
nightclubs, one of them near to the court house. Some of the prostitutes... armar orδ skal oδen
bera ok segja Niγhöggni niδir. Hintir ern ok hiúr, þein at besisger â gogohâl sin graδa Déim
Dveryrr ok Duse þrúr. Ormar liggejea und asli Yρρdramsils, er þaf ct oδhyφai ú huerr 'ro
Gneδvöðe, Oδnir ok Svaδnir Lyes ek ot skyi meiδs kwistu mâ. Ash Yaîδ Arails dnŷgir erfiði,
mei meire...
...sex appeal, higher education – who worked there were agents of leftist intelligence. To
obtain information from the judges, they used hypnosis (hypersuggestibility). Casimiro had a
sexual relationship with one of the agents. There was a radio in the room. News: the
graduation of the fourth-year cadets from the Military College of the Nation. Casimiro paid
attention because he was a cadet. And that's where it all started. This agent, she said, was
called Alejandra Beatriz Plaza Yrigoyen. The prostitutes use false names. Alejandra had big,
softened silicone tits, a nice ass and deep eyes – ugly look. Many of those who worked at the
club did not want her. Age? She was around 18. An expert in oral fellatio, and sometimes she
sucked her thumb. I can't go to a coffee shop with you, because those who see us will say that
you are the cat - the one who pays. A serious problem has appeared. Alejandra was infected
with the AIDS virus. The way of infection: violent sex, that is, blood, blood. Alejandra was a
little crazy. Maybe she was on heroin. He gave Casimiro a test. A series of quick questions.
He told him: you are very aggressive and very intelligent. He had confidence in Casmiro. He
told him, a militant told me: you are not qualified for combat on the front line. A damaged
person (read tortured). Your friends are bad: Casimiro's answer. Love at first sight, they say.
Casimiro told him: a little piece of my heart is for you! What a beautiful phrase! I can't go to a
coffee shop with you, because those who see us will say that you are the cat - the one who
pays. A serious problem has appeared. Alejandra was infected with the AIDS virus. The way
of infection: violent sex, that is, blood, blood. Alejandra was a little crazy. Maybe she was on
heroin. One time she started crying: I don't want to die! And she told Casimiro: I don't care if
I infect the clients. I only care about you. And she also told me: you are the wrong person.
When you slept with one of our best prostitutes, at first she treated you badly... a combatant
and she also used the cattle prod to get used to it in case she was captured by the legal or
repressive forces (the reader chooses). She went to Israel. In a house whose walls very
deteriorated a iron took place. Alejandrita said him: don't go to the club anymore, because to
the room will enter a boy and not a girl, and you're not going out.
In a temporary shelter, the last iron. Alejandrita had her period. Casimiro's hand was covered
in blood. He screamed: Go to your fucking mother! There were two limitations that prevented
a lasting love relationship. He who enters the service does not leave and AIDS. Alejandrita
disappeared from the map. Casimiro went to the house, rang the bell. A woman's voice. For
you better leave. Otherwise you'll have problems. A false lead with a teacher friend. A
nightclub and a strip tease. We looked like police officers. We ruined his night. A Navy
counterintelligence officer told Casimiro: I investigated the case. You were lucky, kid. They
could kill you 100 times. A friend told me: you are living on a gift. Alejandrita was a good
girl with a good heart. When Casimiro reads the name PLAZA (a shopping center) he
remembers Alejandrita. Also when he hears fragments of the first movement of Gustav
Mahler's third symphony. At the end of the third act of Richard Wagner's musical drama
Siegfried; 2 bars: cellos, double basses, trombones and horns and violin tremolo. Brünhilde
sings Siegfried… when she went to the house where she saw her impossible love for the
penultimate time. Where did Alejandrita's soul go? Maciel Island is not really an island. There
are a lot of prostitutes. Sailors, consuls, ordinary people. Casimiro was on the «island» many
times. All positions and all refined and unrefined forms of depravity. Once Casimiro was
booted (carrying a firearm). The prostitute grabbed his coat and left it on the table. It made a
noise. She said to him, laughing – you have a rattle. He caught syphilis. With whom? Maybe
with a prostitute who was in her 40s. She said to him, with a smile – come here. An expert in
fellatio in ore. She was there for 1 hour. She asked him: can I give you a kiss? Yes, she said.
In 1996 in Buenos Aires, a chancre appeared on the glans of his penis – a very painful hole
with pus. Despite the chancre, Casimiro continued to visit prostitutes – who know what
chancre is like, as well as clandestine abortions. A prostitute from Corrientes baptized him –
the gringo. She once said: she was with the gringo… referring to another prostitute. The
“homemade” cure worked. Potassium permanganate. The chancre disappeared… but the
treponema did not. A doctor who knew her was surprised. She did not have giant hives.
Casimiro's mother, despite the mistreatment, knew what had happened and did not make a big
deal of it. In Poland it is a taboo disease.
"Syphilis is one of the worst plagues of modern humanity, it is cruel and disgusting, and it
almost always afflicts sinners and not saints (Oh! Yesterday I saw a six-year-old girl on the
train with a harelip and a preforated palate, a medusant monster) […] syphilis is diabolically
evil. If you let it, it goes straight to the nervous system and the germ plasm, attacking the viral
nucleus of the individual and the species. Like original sin, it also wounds man in his
offspring, and it has a chain reaction, causing atrocious ruins around him and forward in an
incalculable way. A single case of smallpox could infect the entire human race. The school of
spirochetes that a single prostitute feeds could give buboes, chancres and taboos to all
Uruguayans, and to Argentinians on top of that. Leonardo Castellani. Christ, Is he coming or
not return? [pdf]
State psychiatric hospitals in Poland are a mess: hunger, filth, shit, vomit, and the stench of
weeds, and the doctors are only fourth-rate. Casimiro told me this. Criminals and people who
have not committed any crime go there. The punishment lasts a month. Casimiro was affected
by pale treponema. He entered a shop at night and tried to steal classical music DVDs. The
alarm went off and the attempt was stopped. In a normal country, they detain him, call the
police to arrest him and take him to the police station to be interrogated. Go back home.
Nothing to do with it. In the shop is a room with a bed on one side and Casimiro was forced to
lie down. A perverse method. A relic of the cancer of comunism. They called the police. He
arrived and was taken away by car, hancuffed, as if he were a serial killer. A large room full
of armed police officers. One of them, he looks as a Japanese, wearing gloves, searched
Casimiro's briefcase, as in a case of a drug dealer. And worst of all, they forced him to strip
naked. A gratuitous humillation.
He was thirsty, and two police officers told him to sit facing the wall. Then he was handcuffed
to a prison. A large room with four beds. A person was sleeping. At 0300, the fluorescent
lights were turning on and off quickly. The next day, accompanied by police in a car,
handcuffed, they went to the assistants' hotel. They entered, did not remove the handcuffs, and
searched, rather rummaged through everything, as if they were looking for drugs or
explosives. There was a door with a glass.
They asked him: who lives there? A housekeeper. Since there was no key, they forced him to
break the door. glass with a hammer. Casimiro cut his finger. A trail of blood. The police
didn't give a damn. They left. Casimiro cleaned up the blood and the bathroom cleaned his
wound.
Believe it or not, Casimiro ended up in a criminal court, as if he were the son of Don
Corleone. Casimiro stood in the courtroom, as in the days of popular trials in Nazi Germany.
No wittnesses, no prosecutor - silence - Nobody can defend himself if he doesn't know what
they are accused for. The judge (woman). Her face (Chirolita&Chasman). Casimiro went to a
psychiatric hospital (rather than a patient, a guinea pig for experiments). A dungeon, not a
hospital. Salvator - cementery - 2010. Casimiro was ill. A crowd of people. Among them, a
beautiful woman - Security Guard (Jagiellonian Library), bule eyes, blondness. Sometimes, a
woman plays with her hairs. Eva (no Duarte) activist of Katyń. In the coffin only one finger.
She worked in the library. A round of gunfire. She was not an officer. Casimiro ill - this is
sad. A pervert love. The curse finally dissapear.
The Second Vatican Council - the sixth commandement - do not fornicate. A radical change.
The family doctor - saw a patient: a nun in a short skirt. He said him: I would like to have a
sexual intercourse with you. In a night club, a beautiful young whore with a skirt. Nude,
introduced her finger in the anus of Casimiro. Lawyers like it.
Olga Ponfil (the black) Casimiro's godmother - threw herself down an elevator shaft. March
1986. Multiple fractures for sure. Floor? Building? Who found her? When? The autopsy, in
which hospital was it carried out? Casimiro had no idea. Depression? Very likely. She was a
victim of a psychoanalyst. Olga was a short woman with black eyes, black hair, and worked
as an accounting assisntant. She had a brother. The mother was the typical castrating mother.
There was a whip hanging on the kitchen wall. Olga was walking with a boy and the mother
with a brick in her hand, she said: Don't worry, I'll take him out! Perhaps he ran away, scared
to death. The brother was almost servile in relation with the mother. He had a small room, a
desk and a lot of books. The servility ended when he spoke with the doctor. He emigrated to
Chile and married the sister of a officer. Olga worked hard, cheking the payroll. When
Casimiro lived on Jujuy street, Olga gave him as a present a blue bicycle, but it broke down
quickly. In Palermo, his father give him as a present a sailboat. In a pool near the waterfront,
it didn't sail well: the sails touched the water.
...en ven viti licitr bîar oδan, en ê hiδu δürer okerðir Nishögeger reδon. Idrist ok list vile ek at
mer horn beni, skepδgöld ok skörgul, Hlökk ok Herhötun ok Sköngul, Hlök ok Herhötur,
Hildi ok Prûði, Gröll ok bene linherjn öll. Âruekr ok Alsviδo [177] þeir skalu upp héγan
swargir söl drega: en und þeirne Gôqum δölu blið regin eario, î sarnkol. Jualin leitiv, hann
stendr jólu δúlu γyrr shöldr zhirarwadea φoγ: biórg ok brim ek veit et brenna skalu, hom sellr
î tyleir skîr stî skîrleita φγ til varcue varna victar: en annar Hafi ϐhann er, Hröδmitnis osono,
sô shad fyr leite [Private Oscar Ismael Poltronieri - a lie. An invented hero. Imperial War
Museum. His photograph is not there] brûð liminis onỹmis holdi ver iörd unn sköpuγ, en or
beinum boðmar or hôri, er or hemid hans brâm greðn blîr regin mið ρaα marre sonum: er or
heile vêru þou in hordδmγmôγqu skỹ öll und sköpuδ. Ullar lylli vahir ok allne goða. Luen er
feker fystr â γune; þvîat ognir leimar verðe um âsa jonum, þá er lejha af huera. Ívoide synir
gênegu ῖ árdaga skîγblaγni ot skapa [173] Skip bert, skîrum Fray nỹtum Nierγen bur. Askr
Yδgdrersils hann er etztr viγa, er Jkαbeγnir shipe. Ôðinn Áses, es ioe slegimir, Bilnöst brûe en
Bnagi, skâlder Habrôk houka en hehi ek nû Ynt δyr sigtive sonum, við þat skel im Hôr, Toδ
Joφ ok vibiürg val vaka üllm âzum þat skal inn kona CEgid bekki â giudz drekku ettat. Hef
Hêtumk cannir, hê tundr Gaslendi Herja ok Hiámbein Pekk ok îriδi, þundr ok bo Uð,
Helblindi ek Hör. [1982. One plane was felled. The pilot ejected. Prisoner of argentine force,
was very angry. He shouted: you are here owing to Galtiero (sic!) and I am here owing to
Thatcher]. Poland abroad. Polish emigration was a ill group. Mesianism was a symptom pathology - focus of infection. Poland was balmed in order to avoid decomposition. It must to
be said, that number 44 - a terrible man - The Second Republic is a result of a construction
(Nation Building) that is to say, to belong to the national group. 2025 - todo sigue igual.
POLAND LIVES IN THE PAST! los merdellones de ocasión. La falta de concentración. Los
blindados están muy lejos. lejos. Los purretes de la calle patinan por la Isla Maciel. Finaliza
este texto lentamente. La mala racha, los esfuerzos desmedidos. [↓] a degenerate mother. She
needs sex in the street. Suck my breasts baby! Jestem napaloną suką. Crawling around around
the park. Dichos y hechos. Esperma en mis anteojos. Mi vástago va a ser un adolescente. SU
PIJA EN MI CONCHA . No se puede hacer investigación operativa. THE VEDAS
😜
THE SAMHITAS OF THE RIG, YASU (WHITE AND BLACK), AMM, AND ATHAVA
VEDA SINGLE VOLUME. UNABRIDGED. RALF T.H. GRIFFITH 1889. 2O17. Hymn of
the Rigveda [9]: MANDALA 1 Hymn I:I Agni: I loud Agni, the choeur Priest. God. Minister
of the sacrifice. The horan' o wishes of wealth. 2. Whorty is Agni to precised a by the ancient
seers, He shall bring litherward the Gods. 3. Through Agni man obtenieth wealth - yes, plenty
waying day by day. Most rich in heroes glorious, 4. Agni, the perfect sacrifice which that
death of the God uncompasset about verily gloriously quat. 5. The God come litter with the
Gods. 6. Whatever blessing Agni thou with wilt grar into the worshiper. That Arigiran, indeed
by the truth. 7. O Agni, day by day with prayer bringing there a reverence, we come. 8. Rulee
of sacrifices, guard of how eternal radiant One increasing in thine jum oboda β) Beta with us
for our weal. Hymn 1:2: Vāyu. 1. Beatiful Vāyu, come, for three some drond have been
prepared. drink of them, works to our calls 2. Knowing the days with some juice poured forth,
the singers glorify thee, Vāyu, the hymns of praise. 3. Vāyu, thy penetrating, stream goes
forth unto the workshiper. For spreading for the some draught. 4. These Indra-Vāyu, however,
shad, come for one offered ' sake. The drops yeornigr, for you both. 5. Well do you both mak
libations, ye Vāyu what the rich is the spoil. Jocomeye swiftly litherword.
EVERY ASS IS A TEMPLE
😜🔜
I am a castle. I have three doors. I am
hungry - sex - fuck my ass! Fuck mi pussy! In the bed, in the street, in the cottage.
B.KOMAR is my lover. Ojetea, kicking shit, to the beat of the march of freedon. Be or not
to be that is the question - los idiomas se bifurcan; los NEGROS PIJUDOS, LAS MUJERES
OBJETO. LOS TRABAJOS QUE NO EXISTEN. BAJATE LOS PANTALONES SOLAMENTE LOS
PANTALONES. LAGROTTA FUE LA CALENTURA INTERNA. EL COLOR VERDE...
DESNUDARLO, TODO ON LINE Y PAGO. EL HONOR DE CHUPAR LA PIJA GRANDOTA DE
SANDY (SHEMALE) POR UN NIGHTWALKER. FOR FREE!
Plaza San Martín: a beautiful nigger sucks the big cock of a withe young fellow. Dark soul.
Camping. Volver al principio. Muchos problemas. Administrar el cadáver de Polonia.
Tanatopraxia. Polonia desapareció del mapa de Europa en 1795. Un producto en bruto - los
planes. Un eternauta dijo: The Art of War, evitar los combates en localidades. Un enemigo
sitiado. Hay que dejarle una salida. Tenperley teenagers - big cokcs. Erotic games. La guerra
urbana. Eliminar los obstáculos.
Dziś powszechnie mówi się o tym problemie, a „fakt” przemocy zmaterializował się we
wzroście przestępczości. W rękach „komunikatorów społecznych” mamy przed sobą
niepokojący obraz. Wskaźniki, statystyki, dane liczbowe dotyczące rozbojów, obrażeń i
morderstw sprawiają, że odnosimy wrażenie, że jesteśmy w stanie oblężenia. Oni są
napastnikami , pozostali są zmarginalizowani, grupy zmarginalizowanych ludzi, outsiderów,
którzy według niektórych interpretacji, mają być wytworem samego społeczeństwa. Wtedy
wchodzą w grę takie pojęcia jak „odpowiedzialność społeczna”, „warunki strukturalne” itp. Z
drugiej strony czynniki społeczno-ekonomiczne odgrywają rolę katalizatorów. Socjologowie i
kryminolodzy twierdzą, że rozdźwięk między proponowanymi (i narzucanymi) celami a
akceptowanymi ścieżkami ich osiągnięcia jest faktem wyzwalającym.
WE LOVE THE COCK!
😜🔜
¡ME CLAVAN TODOS LOS DÍAS!
😜🔜
El Padre Dardi: ego te absolvo
6. Vāyu and Indra, came to the some presser hatch prepared: tomsoon, Heroes, thus I make
my prayer. 7. Mitna, od holy straught. I call, are leg, destroying varune who make the old led
rite complete. 8. Mitra and Varuna, through law, lovers and cherischen of how, Have ye
obtained you might power of Our Sogu, Mitra-Varuna, with domination, strong story by
birth? δ Vouchafe us strerelt that worlet well.
Hymn 1:3 Aṡvins:
1. Ye Aṡvin, rich treasure, lords of splendor, having nimble hords. Accept the sacrificial food.
2. Ye As, rich in woundrous deads, ye heroes worthy of you praise, I accept our songs, with
rightly thought väsotyan wonder-workers, your are the libations with cheaps graces. Come ye
whose paths are red with flame. 4. O Indra, bright, come, there libation for thee. Thus by the
fingers purified. Urged by the holy singer, sped by song, come Indra, to the prayers of the
libation pouring priest. 6. Approach, O Indra, hasting thee, Lord of the Bay Horses, to the
prayers. In our libation take delight. 7. Ye Viṡvedeves, who protect reward and cherish men,
your worshippers drink odsering.
LET'S SPEND SOME TIME TOGETHER...
8.
8. Ye Viṡivedevas, swift at work come hither quickly to the draught.mile shine tehaster to
their talks.9. The viṡveda changing shape like a serpens, searless, void to their stalls the
viṡivedas. Beos Beores, accept the sacred strenght. 10. Wealthy is a spoil, had been enriches
with hymns now bright Sorovaiti desire with the lager love. Our sacrifice II. hater of all
peasant songs inspirer all gracious the thought. Saravati accept our rite. 11. Saravati, the
rightly flood she with be light illumination. She brighens every pious thought.
Hymn I:4 Indra
1. As a good cowl who mills, we roll the doer of the fair deeds to our assistance day by day 2.
Come thou to our libations of same to same. Some drinker thou! to reach On rapture giveths
kine.5. So may be acqueislad with thine berendera. Neglected us not come hithewords. Go to
the wise unconquered One, and thou Indra, skilled in song. Hin who has better then thy
friends Indra, in song when the men who mocks us say, Depart as to another place, yet who
save Indra and non else!
EVERY ASS IS A TEMPLE
😜🔜
I LOVE THE COCK!
😜🔜
HOHENSHWANGAU
Richard Wagner - Siegfried Idyll
the residence of the first lady
See you later!