"My residence was more appropriate that a university not only for reflection but for serious reading, and while I was out of reach of ordinary mobile library was more than ever influenced by those books Proyecciones of the world, whose sentences written in condom primeramente cortezas of trees, and now they are nothing but copiadas of time-time-in, role in Hilo.
Henry David Thoreau. Walden or Life in the woods
What book you take to a desert island? is a question that we have all we have done or have heard or done. When the answer is not a manual of survival, who often choose to answer some of these "great classics of world literature" often find a new collection of installments or the modest price of a couple of euros the newspaper. Ready to be practical, the books have more pages with preference-imagine that the plane we should take a long time in rescue-appear, but that unless the deserted island where we had the misfortune to fall ARRIVE the Terreta-in that case, tardaríem being rescued by some clueless tourists a bird ringer of painyos (I do not know how to say in Valencian) or peixcador-retired, we will gather some brown al'illeta way, and if things are not flying as to pass them around gramets maximum weight of luggage. The decision, as seen, not easy in the hypothetical If we saw discharged voluntarily ended on a desert island, and if we are unfortunately still hypothetical end involuntarily because there was mo mo wreck the ship or aircraft has been printed, we will settle with my what has not been bathed, and if the booklet with the instructions of the hair bun, still give thanks.
The pregunteta Fasteners reality when a cobra is facing five months working in a place where substantially isolated and entertainment options for leisure time is scarce, more in winter with temperatures rising for a few laps -20 ° darkness and most of time, not impedes, in any case makes it a little nasty after a few hours, enjoy the scenery and the possibilities offered by these forests, but precisely because it would place on them is where much of the workday and when this is over, one has more enthusiasm than is stuck in the cabin, take off the costume doll Mitxel and light the fire, Heat the sauna and enjoy the company, when, or his absence, time for small and large solitary pleasures of this life: a book, a piece of chocolate, a hairline coverage for a call to family or friends. The habit of reading is lucky enough to be portable, but with limited space in the suitcase, so as to come back for them from here five months, and with little desire vore'm in April looking for boxes to send everything down, I decided to measure myself and think very well what would be what I will remember. Unfortunately, my boss called me so that I vinguera before I give you time to think about it, so we were some of those elected me pul · lulaven the nightstand next to the last purchase had done.
ever to, I brought Walden, Henry David Thoreau, who as I explained before, I come, I wanted to return to read it fashioned was perusing from time to time. I thought you would find few places more suited to his corner where I'm reading this, so we take it to me and I finished yesterday I reviewed the background that I made in a state of absolute communion with ALMOST everything says, because this man was right about many things, but for others ... it would have been a good hit polvet from time to time. In the line of life and what bonicos forests are trees and animals that are good and which gives people ASCO, I brought the tramp of Trliogía of Knut Hamsun, who also had to be guided by the latest side slope. The three novels that are up under the stars of autumn, play with a tramp and mute Last joy, and what were, specifying a bit? Post what is going to be a man who leaves the city bread go in the woods and mountains. Following Hamsun, and forests and life in nature and all that, I brought Pan Pequeñito among other things because it was not weighed. About? Yes, a man living in a cabanyeta in the woods. The good of this is that Lt. Glahn and is in love with cabanyeta xicona, and ever to talk to someone and someone is not telling the ermitanyo shift now the miseries society. To change a little of both and foguereta Pinet, Nosotros, los ahogados , Carsten Jensen. This man knew who he was until I read an article in the newspaper that spoke of the book, which has taken recently, and said it was the story of sailors Marstal, a town in southern Denmark, and thereby Sailors of it I had enough. After also said that if it was the best novel of the last dollar and twenty-five years, if I do not know what award he had won important and what good all this, and I was eager to catch something new with swell, and I say let's see this post. Today I have begun. To bring me more sea Captain of sea and war Patrick O'Brian, the wheel will always return. The last, John Barleycorn, Jack London . He was beating her eyes to Colmillo White before-I came by chance one day in a bookstore I see this and say look, I have not read this post, and it pille and alcohol are the memories of London that here in my abstinence in spite of vodka gift, m'abellixen little. Rounding out the table some of these booklets with CD in four days to speak Euskera and German. The first because I feel like it, because the second I touched it taught me to work.
With this, I loaded the " The bedside " acabaeta released and wanted to turn into a permanent section a week (is that I want ever to have something like Macip with their Monday musical or out those things, but it is seen that I can not) and condemn the disappearance until May. Returning the top to finish, something of great poetry is absent, and on condition that only ask a book, the choice must be considered. Some m'imagine anthology, Whitman had thought, but I'm not entirely determined, so we here comes the question. If you can only llibre holder is a poetry to a illa defects in which a passar a temps s'anaren indefinitely, fifth series? To be possible, that stigma in blanetes tapes. I l'epic prohibited.
"My residence was more appropriate that a university not only for reflection but for serious reading, and although I was beyond the reach of ordinary mobile library was more than ever influenced by those books worldwide projection, whose sentences were first written on bark, and now are merely copied from time to time, linen paper. "
Henry David Thoreau. Walden or Life in the Woods
What book would you take to a desert island? is a question we all have done or we have done or have heard done. When the answer is not a survival guide who answers usually choose one of those "classics of universal literature" that often are in a new collection of installments or the modest price of a couple of euros to the newspaper. Posts to be practical, books with more pages have preferential imagine that the plane has to rescue us take long to appear, "but unless you like the desert island where we had the misfortune to fall is in the terreta-in that case would soon be rescued by a clueless foreigner, a ring of Paine or a retired fisherman, "we have to somehow get to the isle of yore, and if things are not flying to spend a few grams maximum weight luggage. The decision, as you see, not easy at present unlikely event that doomed us to meet voluntarily to end on a desert island, and whether we Unfortunately also end up there inadvertently hypothetical because we have sunk the ship or plane pattern, we must make do with what is not wet, and if the instruction booklet hair dryer, still give thanks.
The little question of reality when one is faced five months of work in a substantially isolated and where entertainment options for leisure time is scarce, more in winter with temperatures that rarely rise to -20 ° and dark most of the time, which does not prevent, at any rate makes it a little more unpleasant after a few hours to enjoy the scenery and the possibilities offered by these forests if it were not just on them is where you place most of the workday, and when it is finished, one more win than it is to get into the cabin, removing the doll costume Michelin light the fire, heat the sauna and enjoy the fellow, when, or its absence, when the small and large solitary pleasures of this life: a book, a piece of chocolate, a hairline call coverage for the family or friends. The habit of reading is lucky to be portable, but with limited space in the suitcase so long to come to go back to go in five months, and with little desire to see me in April looking for boxes to be sent everything down, I decided to punish restrained and very well what was going to be what I bring. Unfortunately, my boss called me to come to me before I had time to think about it, so that the elect were some who swarmed me the nightstand next to the last purchase he had made.
So I brought Walden by Henry David Thoreau, which as I said before I came, I wanted to re-read and had been browsing from time to time. I find few places more suitable for reading this little corner where I live, so I brought him and yesterday I finished the review of background I've been in a state of almost total communion with all that said, because this man was right about many things, but for others ... I would have liked an occasional cap. In the line of life in the forests and how beautiful the trees and what good are the animals and what people give disgust, I brought the trilogy vagabond of Knut Hamsun, who was also there with the last remaining part. The three novels that compose it are Under the stars of autumn, A bum played with muted and The last joy, and what will, specifying a bit? Well, what's going to be a man leaving the city to go live in the forests and mountains. Following Hamsun and forests and the life in nature and all that, I brought bread, among other things because it was tiny and only weighed. What is? Yes, a man living in a little cabin in the woods. The good thing about this is that Lieutenant Glahn in love and is in the hut with the girl, and someone talks to someone and not shift the hermit telling the miseries of society. To change a bit of both pine and so hoguerita, We, the drowned, by Carsten Jensen. This man did not know who he was until he left in a newspaper article about the book, who have taken it little, and said that was the story of sailors Marstal, a town in southern Denmark, and that's what sailors have had enough. After also said that if it was the best Danish novel of the past twenty years, that if he had won not know what major award, and what good and all, and was eager to get me something new to swell, and said as we will see this. Today I started. For bringing me more sea, Captain and Commander by Patrick O'Brian, who was always cool again. The last, John Barleycorn, by Jack London. He was throwing glances at White Fang before coming and one day happened to see this in a bookstore and say look, because I have not read this, and happen to be lame and alcohol reports from London, here in my abstinence despite vodka gift, I crave it too much. Rounding out the table about those with CD booklets to teach you to speak Euskera in four days, and German. The first because I feel like the second because I've had to teach me to work.
With this, I charge the " The bedside," premiered acabadita and wanted to become a permanent section one day a week (I have such a thing as Macip with their musical Monday things like that, but it is seen that I can not) and condemn the disappearance until May. Back to the beginning and end, some poetry is largely absent, and provided that only ask a book, the election must be thinking. Any anthology, I suppose, had thought of Whitman, but I'm not decided at all, so here comes the question. If only they would take a book of poetry on a deserted island where they will spend an indefinite time, what would it be? If possible, it is in paperback. And the epic prohibited.
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