Should I Lasagna With Tin Foil

At 4:30 am the poet appeared. I had been mumbling verses, inventing new words to lack of knowing how to use the old terrors facing blank pages, devoting pages to the appalling black wastebasket filled with crumpled paper and my desk and my bed, alternating locations for my fruitless attempts to bear fruit. 4:30 am
appeared, flying through my window. I was not surprised. Instead, a feeling of elation came over me. The poet sat down on a chair I stood in a dark corner of my room. He sat down, without uttering a sound, but staring at me.
Suddenly, the words in my mind was freed. Flowing through my arm to my hand, struggling to be reflected in my papers. I took hasty a random amount of leaves and began to write. This time, real writing.
My hand moved as fast as my brain and built poems and prose I never thought I could devise. In four hours and debug wrote five poems and two stories, sublime.

"I must go - says the poet, saying his very first sentence.
"Wait," he said. I wrote so fast that I could not even think about or digest my work. You will read and then you go. Is it possible to grant me this favor?
"Yes," replied the poet.

I checked and read every one of my poems and stories. To my amazement, they were just trash, exquisite corpses made by one person, trivia and corny. Horrified, I turned my gaze to the poet, who did not flinch. Seemed to already know the outcome of everything.

I do not understand, "he said, pleading. You gave me inspiration, gives me the talent, creativity, inventiveness, originality. Is not that right? Is not it?
"Yes," replied, with a look quality but impassive.
- So? What does this bunch of words disposable? And is it a cruel joke?


The poet went to the window, ready to go. But before doing so spoke, and after doing so, I should just shut up:

-I am the poet said, and left.

Cronopio.

Brazilian Women's Team Shower

magical event in prehistory

A fourth stripped. Paredes white, spotless, painted on the lime and cement.
With his head resting on one arm, face down and sheltered by cotton sheets, a cronopio sank into reveries.
First, imagine trees, then endowed them with fruit, then imagined birds, painted in colors. Cerrado with eyes delighted in his thoughts.
He fell asleep with a smile.
He slept deeply, at length fell asleep.
In between dreams spent an hour, in between his dreams was two. It was three, became four, spent a little more.
suddenly awoke frightened, a touch soft and rough at the same time he had covered half the body.
Smiling again, he leaned back. His room had no walls, was lush and green. The birds sang and a blanket, tucked it mildly vine.

Cronopios (text and illustration)

Lack Of Cervical Mucus Mean I Am Not Pregnant

Cronopio

A cronopio commissioned a famous invention of the wheel.

"It's time to invent the wheel, it will be very nice," said the cronopio (of course, so prehistoric.)
"And very useful," he said the fame. But cronopio was no longer listening because I was too busy papando gigantic prehistoric flies (ie, huge).

The fame ran enthusiastically into his cave-workshop (which is not as it is imagined).
A week (7 days "? 8, 9? Does it matter?) Returned with a wheel per-fec-ta-men-te round with a hole in the center (of course). The cronopio the looked embarrassed for a long time.

- It's round! "Snapped" That does not work.

The fame did not understand the objection, but the commander was cronopio (because he had thought of inventing the wheel) so I went back to his workshop and, a little less enthusiastic, he turned his unique radio device other multiple radios. Another week had passed. When fame appeared before the cronopio with oval hole in the middle, cronopio looked again for a long time (not so much as before).

"Congratulations, you are much prettier, but still very round," said the inventor cronopio.

Al fame and did not like the project and quit, fairly reluctantly.

"But ... "Said the cronopio.

However, after thinking for a while, added: "But

...


Subtitle: Meeting between cronopio and fame in the house of fame.
Cronopio:-Fame good, generous fame, can I borrow your hammer and your tool?
Fame: "Yes.
End of the meeting between the cronopio and fame in the house of fame


Chapter VI
Turning Point: final invention of the wheel.
The cronopio took several days to learn to use the hammer, many others learn to use the chisel, and more on learning to use a hammer and chisel. But the effort was worth it, the stone was left handle; cooperated with cronopio greatly.
A week (whether the days are) the work was finished.
The cronopio was so happy I danced and danced catala truce for at least two weeks (perhaps a few hours?). After a great effort had reached three final versions de rueda: una triangular con hueco en un borde, una cuadrada sin huecos por ningún lado y (su preferida), una completamente chata y con cerca de 28 huecos.
El cronopio expuso su obra en la puerta de su cueva y fue, feliz, a dormir el sueño de los justos.

La creatividad y la belleza habían, finalmente, vencido al pragmatismo (¡hurra por eso!). Lástima que uno de los mayores avances de la humanidad habría de esperar unos cuantos miles de años más para ver la luz (bueno, ya la había visto, ¿no? Pero no gustar).



Cronopio

Black Volleyball Shoes

To all this, what was a cronopio #@#$%? [1]

En exclusiva, y robado descaradamente de YouTube, un reportaje Cortazar, which asked what a cronopio (and fame, and a hope) and that, fortunately, does not answer the question.



The report is 1977.
Greetings! And we hope that they have not been clarified nothing.

Cronopio and cronopio.