The Magic of the Cities.

Zen promotes the rediscovery of the obvious, which is so often lost in its familiarity and simplicity. It sees the miraculous in the common and magic in our everyday surroundings. When we are not rushed, and our minds are unclouded by conceptualizations, a veil will sometimes drop, introducing the viewer to a world unseen since childhood. ~John Greer

You don't take a photograph, you make it. ~Ansel Adams

The Earth Has Music For Those Who Listen.

"I still find each day to short for all the thoughts I want to think, all the walks I want to take, all the books I want to read and all the friends I want to see"

~ John Burroughs

November 30, 2009

Wave




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November 27, 2009

Street children


Street children is a term used to refer to children who live on the streets of a city. They are basically deprived of family care and protection. Most children on the streets are between the ages of about 5 and 17 years old, and their population between different cities is varied.

Street children live in abandoned buildings, cardboard boxes, parks or on the street itself. A great deal has been written defining street children, but the primary difficulty is that there are no precise categories, but rather a continuum, ranging from children who spend some time in the streets and sleep in a house with ill-prepared adults, to those who live entirely in the streets and have no adult supervision or care.

A widely accepted set of definitions, commonly attributed to UNICEF, divides street children into two main categories:

1. Children on the street are those engaged in some kind of economic activity ranging from begging to vending. Most go home at the end of the day and contribute their earnings to their family. They may be attending school and retain a sense of belonging to a family. Because of the economic fragility of the family, these children may eventually opt for a permanent life on the streets.
2. Children of the street actually live on the street (or outside of a normal family environment). Family ties may exist but are tenuous and are maintained only casually or occasionally.

Street children exist in many major cities, especially in developing countries, and may be subject to abuse, neglect, exploitation, or even in extreme cases murder by "cleanup squads" hired by local businesses or police.

In Latin America, a common cause is abandonment by poor families unable to feed all their children. In Africa, an increasingly common cause is AIDS. [Wiki]

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November 26, 2009

Capilla Abierta / Open Chapel

Catedral de Cuernavaca / Cuernavaca Cathedral

16th century

International Day for the Elimination of Violence against Women
Women's activists have marked November 25 as a day against violence since 1981. On December 17, 1999, the United Nations General Assembly designated 25 November as the International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women (Resolution 54/134). The UN invited governments, international organizations and NGOs to organize activities designated to raise public awareness of the problem on this day as an international observance. Women around the world are subject to rape, domestic violence and other forms of violence, and the scale and true nature of the issue is often hidden.

This date came from the brutal assassination in 1960, of the three Mirabal sisters, political activists in the Dominican Republic, on orders of Dominican dictator Rafael Trujillo (1930-1961). After the assasination of these 3 women, a revolution started from the village which then made Rafeal Trujillo turn over his power and resign by giving it to his brother.

(Sorry, only in Spanish)
Carta a un maltratador

Para ti, cabrón: Porque lo eres, porque la has humillado, porque la has menospreciado, porque la has golpeado, abofeteado, escupido, insultado… porque la has maltratado. ¿Por qué la maltratas? Dices que es su culpa, ¿verdad? Que es ella la que te saca de tus casillas, siempre contradiciendo y exigiendo dinero para cosas innecesarias o que detestas: detergente, bayetas, verduras… Es entonces, en medio de una discusión cuando tú, con tu 'método de disciplina' intentas educarla, para que aprenda. Encima lloriquea, si además vive de tu sueldo y tiene tanta suerte contigo, un hombre de ideas claras, respetable. ¿De qué se queja?

Te lo diré: Se queja porque no vive, porque vive, pero muerta. Haces que se sienta fea, bruta, inferior, torpe… La acobardas, la empujas, le das patadas…, patadas que yo también sufría.

Hasta aquel último día. Eran las once de la mañana y mamá estaba sentada en el sofá, la mirada dispersa, la cara pálida, con ojeras. No había dormido en toda la noche, como otras muchas, por miedo a que llegaras, por pánico a que aparecieses y te apeteciera follarla (hacer el amor dirías) o darle una paliza con la que solías esconder la impotencia de tu borrachera. Ella seguía guapa a pesar de todo y yo me había quedado tranquilo y confortable con mis piernecitas dobladas. Ya había hecho la casa, fregado el suelo y planchado tu ropa. De repente, suena la cerradura, su mirada se dirige hacia la puerta y apareces tú: la camisa por fuera, sin corbata y ebrio. Como tantas veces. Mamá temblaba. Yo también. Ocurría casi cada día, pero no nos acostumbrábamos. En ocasiones ella se había preguntado: ¿y si hoy se le va la mano y me mata? La pobre creía que tenía que aguantar, en el fondo pensaba en parte era culpa suya, que tú eras bueno, le dabas un hogar y una vida y en cambio ella no conseguía hacer siempre bien lo que tú querías. Yo intentaba que ella viera cómo eres en realidad. Se lo explicaba porque quería huir de allí, irnos los dos…Mas, desafortunadamente, no conseguí hacerme entender.

Te acercaste y sudabas, todavía tenías ganas de fiesta. Mamá dijo que no era el momento ni la situación, suplicó que te acostases, estarías cansado. Pero tu realidad era otra. Crees que siempre puedes hacer lo que quieres. La forzaste, le agarraste las muñecas, la empujaste y la empotraste contra la pared. Como siempre, al final ella terminaba cediendo. Yo, a mi manera gritaba, decía: mamá no, no lo permitas. De repente me oyó. ¡Esta vez sí que no!–dijo para adentro-, sujetó tus manos, te propinó un buen codazo y logró escapar. Recuerdo cómo cambió tu cara en ese momento. Sorprendido, confuso, claro, porque ella jamás se había negado a nada.

Me puse contento antes de tiempo.

Porque tú no lo ibas a consentir. Era necesario el castigo para educarla. Cuando una mujer hace algo mal hay que enseñarla. Y lo que funciona mejor es la fuerza: puñetazo por la boca y patada por la barriga una y otra vez…

Y sucedió.

Mamá empezó a sangrar. Con cada golpe, yo tropezaba contra sus paredes. Agarraba su útero con mis manitas tan pequeñas todavía porque quería vivir. Salía la sangre y yo me debilitaba. Me dolía todo y me dolía también el cuerpo de mamá. Creo que sufrí alguna rotura mientras ella caía desmayada en un charco de sangre.

Por ti nunca llegué a nacer. Nunca pude pronunciar la palabra mamá. Maltrataste a mi madre y me asesinaste a mí.

Y ahora me dirijo a tí. Esta carta es para tí, cabrón: por ella, por la que debió ser mi madre y nunca tuvo un hijo. También por mí que sólo fui un feto a quien negaste el derecho a la vida.

Pero en el fondo, ¿sabes?, algo me alegra. Mamá se fue. Muy triste, pero serenamente, sin violencia, te denunció y dejó que la justicia decidiera tu destino. Y otra cosa: nunca tuve que llevar tu nombre ni llamarte papá. Ni saber que otros hijos felices de padres humanos señalaban al mío porque en el barrio todos sabían que tú eres un maltratador. Y como todos ellos, un hombre débil. Una alimaña. Un cabrón.


Escrita por Fernando Orden Rueda 2º de Bachillerato, de Ciencias de la Salud. IES Bioclimático, de Badajoz. II Premio del II Concurso Nacional 'Carta a un maltratador', convocado por la Asociación 'Juntos contra la violencia doméstica'

Publicado por Ajuan en:
El Ojo de Pez

Local cartoon

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November 25, 2009

Wind Dancer


Ver.2

Night; and once again,
the while I wait for you, cold wind
turns into rain.
Shiki, Masaoka. (1867-1902).

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November 24, 2009

15th Birthday or Give me some wheels


La Quinceañera: a celebration of budding womanhood.
by Dale Hoyt Palfrey
The transition from childhood to womanhood is a significant passage for
adolescent girls in almost all cultures. In Mexico, it is marked with the
celebration of the Quinceañera, or 15th Birthday. From a north of the border
viewpoint, it may be seen as a cross between Sweet Sixteen and a
debutante's coming out party. The celebration is a way to acknowledge that
a young woman has reached sexual maturity and is thus of a marriageable
age.
The most important component of the celebration is invariably a Misa de
acción de gracias (thanksgiving Mass). The birthday girl arrives decked out
in a fancy full-length dress - frills, pastel tones and matching hats or
headdresses prevail. Flanked by her parents and padrinos (godparents),
she is specially seated at the foot of the altar throughout the service.
She may be accompanied by up to seven damas (maids of honor) and as many
chambelanes (chamberlains), selected from among close family and friends.


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November 23, 2009

Classic


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November 20, 2009

Walking

Arcos Towers, Santa Fe (PhoneCam)

Monte Alban, Oaxaca

Salto de Quetzalapa

Have a great weekend!

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November 19, 2009

The end of the day


Rural scenes
Night
William Blake

The sun descending in the west,
The evening star does shine;
The birds are silent in their nest,
And I must seek for mine.

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November 18, 2009

Unknown Door


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November 17, 2009

Autumn / Otoño


“Autumn is a second spring where every leaf is a flower”
Albert Camus

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November 13, 2009

A Momentary Lapse of Sky




A c a p u l c o !
Happy Weekend

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November 11, 2009

Crash


Car crash at noon.

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November 10, 2009

Doors and Chains


The true method of knowledge is experiment.
William Blake

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November 9, 2009

Berlin Wall


U2 - Sunday, Bloody Sunday (Live @ Berlin Wall 20th Anniversary 2009)
By Dave Graham. El Economista
BERLIN (Reuters) - World leaders past and present will join German crowds on Monday to celebrate the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall -- a stark symbol of the Cold War that divided a city and a continent.

Ironias de la vida - Rocha / La Jornada


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November 8, 2009

Limitless


$ 3.00 MXN (0.223713 USD) limitless time calls.

"Happy Sunday"

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November 7, 2009

Iron Dancers


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November 6, 2009

Chapultepec Castle


Fountain with a sculpture of the symbol of Chapultepec, "The Grasshopper"
In the background, statues dedicated to the boy soldiers, along a walkway at the top of Chapultepec Castle.

Chapultepec (Chapoltepēc, "at the grasshopper's hill" in the Nahuatl language; cf. Mexican Spanish Chapulín [Grasshopper]) is a large hill on the outskirts of central Mexico City. It has been a special place for Mexicans throughout Mexican history, and it was on this hill that the Aztecs made a temporary home after arriving from northern Mexico in the 1200s.
The Niños Héroes (in English: Boy Heroes), also known as the Heroic Cadets or Boy Soldiers, were six teenage military cadets who died defending Mexico at Mexico City's Chapultepec Castle (then serving as the Mexican army's military academy) from invading U.S. forces in the 13 September 1847 Battle of Chapultepec.
Their commanders, General Nicolás Bravo and General José Mariano Monterde, had ordered them to fall back from Chapultepec but the cadets did not; instead, they resisted the invaders until they were killed, with accounts maintaining that the last survivor leapt from Chapultepec Castle wrapped in the Mexican flag to prevent it from being taken by the enemy. [Wiki]

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November 5, 2009

The Balcony Worker


We sat around on a hotel balcony with a bottle of wine and tried to figure out how you would go about blowing up a planet. That's the kind of conversations science fiction writers have when they get together. We don't talk about football or anything like that.
Kevin J. Anderson

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November 4, 2009

What's Up / Que onda b....


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November 3, 2009

Justice is Dead


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November 2, 2009

Day of The Dead / El Día de los Muertos


Ver.2

Alebrije [aleˈβɾihe) are brightly-colored Mexican folk art sculptures of fantastical creatures. Pedro Linares first used the term to describe his papier mache creations.

The Day of the Dead (El Día de los Muertos or All Souls' Day) is a holiday celebrated in Mexico and by Latin Americans living in the United States and Canada. The holiday focuses on gatherings of family and friends to pray for and remember friends and family members who have died. The celebration occurs on November 1st and 2nd in connection with the Catholic holiday of All Saints' Day which occurs on November 1st and All Souls' Day which occurs on November 2nd. Traditions include building private altars honoring the deceased, using sugar skulls, marigolds, and the favorite foods and beverages of the departed, and visiting graves with these as gifts.

Scholars trace the origins of the modern holiday to indigenous observances dating back thousands of years, and to an Aztec festival dedicated to a goddess called Mictecacihuatl.

Similar holidays are celebrated in many parts of the world; for example, it's a public holiday (Dia de Finados) in Brazil, where many Brazilians celebrate by visiting cemeteries and churches. In Spain, there are festivals and parades, and at the end of the day, people gather at cemeteries and pray for their loved ones who have died. Similar observances occur elsewhere in Europe and in the Philippines, and similarly-themed celebrations appear in many Asian and African cultures.


T I M E

Modern man thinks he loses something-time-when he does not do things quickly. Yet he does not know what to do with the time he gains- except kill it.

One of the worst forms of mental suffering is boredom, not knowing what to do with oneself and one's life. Even if man had no monetary, or any other reward, he would be eager to spend his energy in some meaningful way because he could not stand the boredom which inactivity produces.
- Erich Fromm

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November 1, 2009

Theme Day: Doorways

Bowery at Spring St in Chinatown. New York City

Abandoned house in the Pink Zone of the city

Palace of Fine Arts / Palacio de Bellas Artes

Click Here To View Thumbnails For All Participants

A warrior-hunter deals intimately with his world, and yet he is inaccessible to that same world. He taps it lightly, stays for as long as he needs to, and then swiftly moves away, leaving hardly a mark.
For an average man, the world is weird because if he's not bored with it, he's at odds with it. For a warrior, the world is weird because it is stupendous, awesome, mysterious, unfathomable. A warrior must assume responsibility for being here, in this marvelous world, in this marvelous time.
A warrior must learn to make every act count, since he is going to be here in this world for only a short while, in fact, too short for witnessing all the marvels of it.
Acts have power. Especially when the warrior acting knows that those acts are his last battle. There is a strange consuming happiness in acting with the full knowledge that whatever he is doing may very well be his last act on earth.
A warrior must focus his attention on the link between himself and his death. Without remorse or sadness or worrying, he must focus his attention on the fact that he does not have time and let his acts flow accordingly. He must let each of his acts be his last battle on earth. Only under those conditions will his acts have their rightful power.
Otherwise they will be for as long as he lives, the acts of a fool.
Carlos Castaneda.

Happy Halloween!

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