مكان جميل

المزيد

كنت قبل ايام افكر بالسفر ومتعته.لكن الا توافقوني ان السفر في ايامنا هذا اصبح في بعض مراحله ممل ورتيب لا وساعات يرفع الضغط خصوصا اذا اصبحت نقطه في     طابور بشري طويل.هذا غير التشديدات الامنيه ومايتبعه من بطء في سير الامور

المفاجأة ان عدد نيوزويك لهذا الاسبوع مفرد لهذا الموضوع تغطية ممتازة اعجبتني للغايه.محرر المقال يقول ان الكثيرين من سكان اوروبا واسيا اتجهوا للرحلات البطيئة وبذلك تزداد تنقلاتهم وتزداد مشاهدتهم.هناك اتجاه عالمي لاستبدال الطائرة بالسفر بانواع اخرى ابطء وارخص

المزيد

Magical Realism
Like many Latin American writers, Gabriel García Márquez has been inextricably linked to a style of literature known as "magical realism." Literature of this type is usually characterized by elements of the fantastic woven into the story with a deadpan sense of presentation. The term is not without a lot of controversy, however, and has come under attack for numerous reasons. Some claim that it is a postcolonial hangover, a category used by "whites" to marginalize the fiction of the "other." Others claim that it is a passé literary trend, or just a way to cash in on the Latin American "boom." Still othe

المزيد

My mother was not only beautiful, she was also vulnerable and cried all the time, which is very attractive because it makes even the wimpiest man feel strong. She had many suitors but ended up marrying the ugliest of them all. My step-father looked like a frog, but in time he turned into a prince, and now I can swear that he is almost handsome. He has a noble heart, but he is as patriarchal as my grand-father was. I had no choice but to fight him. Rebellion was the only way for a girl to survive in my family.

My step-father was a diplomat and soon after he entered our lives we started traveling. In l958 we were living in Lebanon. That year began the political violence that would eventually tear the country apart. My brothers and I were sent back to Chile and I ended up living again in my grand-father’s home. I was fifteen and so tired of saying good-by to places and people, that I decided that I would plant my roots in Chile and never travel again.

In my childhood I saw my mother as a victim. She was powerless. The only times she got attention was when she was sick, so she was sick a lot. Obviously, I did not want to be like her, I wanted to be like my grand-father. I nearly succeeded, but around my twelfth birthday Nature betrayed me and two little prunes appeared on my chest. From being an assertive tough tom-boy, overnight I became a giggling insecure girl with pimples

المزيد