Monday, December 05, 2005

aND tHIS iS wHAT aDAMANTIA fOUND oUT

Then one day Adamantia gave the gate a closer and let's say more intense look. And what did she find? The keyhole was on the other side. It had never occurred to her that she was locked in. She had always thought of the gate as a way out, not in. But now it was clear to her that she had always been worng. She was so shocked that she did not move for about half an hour. Then, suddenly, she started the way back home in an angry mood, so to speak. In fact, she was furious. Her parents had never told her about it. And she wanted to know why. Why were they locked? And where?

Sunday, November 20, 2005

lA fRASE úTIL

Nada es pequeño en exceso, señor, para un ser tan pequeño como el hombre. Es mediante el estudio de las cosas pequeñas como alcanzamos el gran arte de sufrir lo mínimo y gozar lo máximo posible.

Samuel Johnson

Saturday, November 19, 2005

Las moléculas

Las moléculas

A través de ellas nos relacionamos con el mundo más allá de nuestro cuerpo. Por ejemplo, cuando olemos algo. Porque cuando inhalamos un olor, no se trata sólo de un olor; es parte de un objeto que se ha desprendido: las moléculas. Así que, cuando percibimos algo que huele mal, es como si nos lo comiéramos. Por esa razón, no deberíamos oler las cosas, como no nos comemos todo lo que hay a nuestro alrededor, ya que en forma de olor penetra en el interior de nuestro cuerpo. De modo que, cuando entréis en el baño después de que alguien haya estado antes, recordad qué clase de moléculas estáis comiendo en realidad.

La tormenta de hielo

Tuesday, October 18, 2005

Guess What

Guess what book ends like this:

He sprang from the cabin window as he said this, upon the ice raft which lay close to the vessel. He was soon borne away by the waves and lost in darkness and distance.

Monday, October 17, 2005

tHE gATE wITH nO kEYHOLE

Once upon a time there was this sweet little girl called Adamantia. She lived in a pretty small town in Nowhere, Nowhereland.

Every single morning Adamantia passed by a black and rusty old iron gate on her way to school. The thing about this gate is that it had no keyhole. But who on earth would want a gate with no keyhole in it? And what for? That is what Adamantia kept on wondering as time flew as birds do and life went by as just life goes by. And that is why every single morning she stopped by the gate and stared at it for a while, bewildered, in a sort of romantic and indigo mood.

As you may feel by now, this is going to be a very long gothic story. Thus, we will leave it here, give Adamantia some time to think, and come back soon.