tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67292335519338358672012-01-08T11:28:51.592-08:00jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.comBlogger901100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-30066830285633684562012-01-08T11:22:00.000-08:002012-01-08T11:28:51.608-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br />"El que no sabe aullar<br />no encontrará su manada"<br /></br><br /></br><br />Charles Simic<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JRimfH_hAbI/TwnuK9N23HI/AAAAAAAAAUc/5ddPLpGXtH0/s1600/lobo...con%2Bloba.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JRimfH_hAbI/TwnuK9N23HI/AAAAAAAAAUc/5ddPLpGXtH0/s320/lobo...con%2Bloba.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695345075785489522" /></a><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-3006683028563368456?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-8963843510629894962011-12-08T05:58:00.000-08:002011-12-08T06:01:29.827-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br />"Que nuestro amor del uno por la otra, <br />si fuera necesario ceda a la ausencia. <br />Y a lo desconocido"<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Denise Levertov - Plegaria para un amor revolucionario</br><br /></br></br><br />(traducción de Leonor Silvestri)<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-896384351062989496?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-48563425705951735032011-12-05T08:37:00.000-08:002011-12-05T08:44:49.411-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br>"my favorite thing <br />is to go where <br />I've never been"<br /></br><br /></br><br />Diane Arbus</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mOX12kq0zyo/TtzzwMc6mpI/AAAAAAAAAUI/JGfwCMK5y_A/s1600/winogrand-diane-arbus-love-in-central-park-new-york.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 212px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mOX12kq0zyo/TtzzwMc6mpI/AAAAAAAAAUI/JGfwCMK5y_A/s320/winogrand-diane-arbus-love-in-central-park-new-york.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682684839136500370" /></a></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-4856342570595173503?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-31823487433008837382011-12-03T02:57:00.000-08:002011-12-03T02:58:41.934-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />"Mis ojos,<br />por haber sido puentes,<br />son abismos"<br /></br><br /></br><br />Antonio Porchia</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-3182348743300883738?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-89837415154051917722011-11-21T12:04:00.000-08:002011-11-25T06:45:27.669-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br>"La humillación, de los celos <br />es no poder elegir <br />el objeto que los inspira"<br /></br><br /></br>Silvina Ocampo - La promesa<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-8983741515405191772?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-65450068113946557942011-11-21T11:41:00.000-08:002011-11-21T11:51:58.366-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />"summer in mind <br />and spring by your side<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br>Sharon Van Etten - One Day"<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-6545006811394655794?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-50207749447167023842011-08-11T05:47:00.000-07:002011-08-14T20:27:38.226-07:00</br> <br /></br> <br /></br> <br /></br> <br />"que violenta es la esperanza" <br /></br> <br /></br> <br />Apollinaire <br /></br> <br /></br> <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Jwfi0-nQTas/TkiR51RYnhI/AAAAAAAAATg/S01iyafe2Nw/s1600/londres_disturbios2-350x223.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 204px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Jwfi0-nQTas/TkiR51RYnhI/AAAAAAAAATg/S01iyafe2Nw/s320/londres_disturbios2-350x223.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5640918956020112914" /></a></br> <br /></br> <br /></br> <br /></br> <br /></br> <br /></br> <br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-5020774944716702384?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-34865878769469506742011-08-01T12:30:00.000-07:002011-08-23T04:31:13.434-07:00</br> <br /></br> <br /></br> <br /></br> <br />"maldigo el vocablo amor <br />con toda su porquería <br /></br> <br />cúanto será mi dolor" <br /></br> <br /></br>Violeta Parra, "Maldigo del alto cielo" <br /></br> <br /></br> <br /></br> <br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-3486587876946950674?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-4372951421721487082011-07-23T12:30:00.000-07:002011-07-23T12:32:04.066-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br>"En aquellos días <br />yo me enamoré del mar <br />como de una persona"</br><br /></br><br /></br>Silvina Ocampo - La promesa<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-437295142172148708?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-47136771691923160842011-06-15T07:50:00.000-07:002011-06-15T07:52:09.873-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br>"no tengo vida propia, tengo sentimientos"</br><br /></br><br />dice maga, que dice silvina</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-4713677169192316084?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-23070205987266084292011-06-09T04:02:00.000-07:002011-06-09T08:58:10.424-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br>"avisame cuando me pongo intensa.<br />la disgresión es mi invento humano <br />favorito"</br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Julia Enriquez<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-2307020598726608429?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-75637776064518151452011-06-08T03:50:00.000-07:002011-06-09T08:42:32.019-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br>No voy a decir que llovió una semana, <br />pero sí que ése fue el tiempo <br />que el sol estuvo sin salir.<br /></br><br /></br><br />Damián Ríos - Entrerrianos<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-o2mmR4VOkwc/TfDpjAEneyI/AAAAAAAAAQk/6MYy8o-LXMg/s1600/2365872945_8dccef5235.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-o2mmR4VOkwc/TfDpjAEneyI/AAAAAAAAAQk/6MYy8o-LXMg/s320/2365872945_8dccef5235.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616245522855066402" /></a><br /></br><br />http://www.flickr.com/photos/jorisday/2365872945/sizes/m/in/photostream/<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-7563777606451815145?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-27269364279738707852011-05-22T04:55:00.000-07:002011-05-22T04:59:50.535-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br>"vou ficar<br />ficar com certeza<br />maluco beleza"<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Raul Seixas<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-2726936427973870785?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-46336951802694024982011-05-17T08:04:00.000-07:002011-05-24T15:02:22.496-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />"no me pidas más <br />que ser esa hojita encendida <br />en tu árbol"<br /></br><br /></br><br />Verónica Viola Fisher<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IDPeQ55V6dk/TdKOy47TxGI/AAAAAAAAAQE/U5M8r9RviB0/s1600/244369_2063106903896_1431431104_2439789_743698_o.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 228px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IDPeQ55V6dk/TdKOy47TxGI/AAAAAAAAAQE/U5M8r9RviB0/s320/244369_2063106903896_1431431104_2439789_743698_o.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607701490955437154" /></a></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Dibujo: lauri<br />http://www.flickr.com/photos/lauricenseslunaticus/4646784801/in/photostream</br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-4633695180269402498?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-15731354503712777382011-05-05T01:35:00.000-07:002011-05-05T01:54:30.853-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br>"snow is outside but i'm by your fire<br />i feel all the love you'll bring"<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Sharon Van Etten - One Day<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-1573135450371277738?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-2277368668754476932011-05-01T09:23:00.000-07:002011-05-01T09:24:29.631-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br>señor:<br />arriesgamos la vida, para vivirla. <br />concédenos pues, la gracia <br />de conservarla<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-227736866875447693?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-22949614212187931522011-05-01T09:08:00.000-07:002011-05-17T08:15:45.831-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />“tengo pájaros en la cabeza que razonan<br />encerraos en jaulas <br />aprendiendo a hablar”<br /></br><br /></br><br />Mala Rodríguez. Por la noche<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ob-n-Ie5Now/Tb2GoCWTwcI/AAAAAAAAAPg/UrnQeK1xALg/s1600/liniers%2Benriqueta%2B-%2Bpajaros%2Ben%2Bla%2Bcabeza.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 171px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ob-n-Ie5Now/Tb2GoCWTwcI/AAAAAAAAAPg/UrnQeK1xALg/s320/liniers%2Benriqueta%2B-%2Bpajaros%2Ben%2Bla%2Bcabeza.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601781533902094786" /></a><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Liniers</br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-2294961421218793152?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-34155955663776819622011-03-08T14:01:00.001-08:002011-03-08T14:02:11.549-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br>“el duende es un poder y no un obrar, <br />es un luchar y no un pensar”<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br>Federico García Lorca<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-3415595566377681962?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-83334828921294825532011-02-26T11:27:00.000-08:002011-02-26T11:32:24.870-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />“yo nací <br />con un gen de aventura”<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Christiane Dosne Pasqualini<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-8333482892129482553?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-27601637654651044062011-02-22T08:49:00.000-08:002011-02-26T11:26:27.386-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br>"desterrada de este, tu jardín,<br />creo necesaria alguna recompensa<br />por haber traído tanto sol"<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Pauline en la playa, “Reparto de bienes”<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-2760163765465104406?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-23882836557616984512011-02-17T13:01:00.000-08:002011-02-17T13:08:46.252-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br>"Lo que no ha encontrado su forma,<br /> dice Ríos, sufre la falta de verdad."<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />En La ciudad ausente, Ricardo Piglia, Editorial Sudamericana, 1992. <br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-2388283655761698451?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-38712618420067019032011-01-11T16:01:00.000-08:002011-01-11T16:07:04.687-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />"Y vos serás <br />el plug del sur"<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Lisandro Aristimuño<br /></br><br /></br><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/TSzwlgJU3wI/AAAAAAAAAOU/VSnZH25AA1g/s1600/Imagen%2B084.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/TSzwlgJU3wI/AAAAAAAAAOU/VSnZH25AA1g/s320/Imagen%2B084.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561084166970597122" /></a><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-3871261842006701903?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-16066843533167942912011-01-11T15:58:00.001-08:002011-01-16T08:03:55.808-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />“solo el amor con su ciencia<br />nos vuelve tan inocentes”<br /></br><br /></br><br />Violeta Parra - Volver a los 17<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/TTMWVwXwAhI/AAAAAAAAAOk/YUbNDqXEdgQ/s1600/500935758_ea577dfbb0.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 237px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/TTMWVwXwAhI/AAAAAAAAAOk/YUbNDqXEdgQ/s320/500935758_ea577dfbb0.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562814527750275602" /></a><br /></br><br /></br><br />dibujo: http://www.flickr.com/photos/angui/<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-1606684353316794291?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-12403276399013634982011-01-05T08:18:00.000-08:002011-01-05T08:19:03.267-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br>"El amor a la justicia <br />como instrumento del equilibrio <br />para la dignidad del hombre" <br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Víctor Jara<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-1240327639901363498?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-60203650025594066932010-12-27T08:47:00.000-08:002010-12-27T08:49:04.308-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Los resplandores de la poesía<br />deben llegar a todos por igual<br />La poesía alcanza para todos<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Parra, Nicanor, Santiago de Chile,1969, p. 211. “Manifiesto”<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-6020365002559406693?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-35493714402246416322010-12-12T08:12:00.000-08:002010-12-12T08:23:57.420-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />"make way <br />for the simple hours"<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Au revoir simone<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/TQT2hcOHG5I/AAAAAAAAAOI/jpDSwk7V9CE/s1600/picture-4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 223px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/TQT2hcOHG5I/AAAAAAAAAOI/jpDSwk7V9CE/s320/picture-4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549831695198788498" /></a><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-3549371440224641632?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-44526215754173774292010-11-30T06:23:00.000-08:002010-11-30T06:25:07.083-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />"Todo lo que tiene sonidos negros <br />tiene duende"<br /></br><br />Federico García Lorca<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-4452621575417377429?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-18369966312057843992010-10-03T05:12:00.000-07:002010-10-03T05:45:37.106-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br>"no me dejes</br> <br />que sufra por la ausencia</br> <br />de estar pensando en mi"</br> <br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br>Lisandro Aristimuño - Lobofobia</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-1836996631205784399?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-10129843409680410472010-08-06T21:41:00.001-07:002010-08-06T21:42:00.326-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br>“yo se que no es en vano este amor</br><br />mas allá de toda pena</br><br />siento que la vida es buena hoy”</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Los Abuelos de la nada. Lunes por la madrugada<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-1012984340968041047?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-30810416152324450282010-07-10T07:21:00.001-07:002010-07-10T07:22:48.123-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br>“no hace falta viajar para ser extranjero <br />basta con una sensación <br />de extrañamiento”<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Reversión de algo leído por ahí<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-3081041615232445028?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-65591458625583706612010-06-28T16:27:00.000-07:002010-06-28T16:35:40.326-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />“hay que dar armas a las mujeres, <br />puesto que los hombres están armados”<br /></br><br /></br><br />Beatriz Preciado<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/TCkw_sYlDZI/AAAAAAAAANk/VElTWZ-zrT0/s1600/12459_1268806606734_1426897602_30766119_122160_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/TCkw_sYlDZI/AAAAAAAAANk/VElTWZ-zrT0/s320/12459_1268806606734_1426897602_30766119_122160_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487971491731803538" /></a><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />foto: http://www.flickr.com/photos/jorisday/<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-6559145862558370661?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-7130320680570196842010-05-16T16:55:00.000-07:002010-05-16T17:03:54.388-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br>ELPINO: ¿Cómo es posible que el universo sea infinito?<br />FILOTEO: ¿Cómo es posible que el universo sea finito?<br />ELPINO: ¿Pretendéis que es posible demostrar esta infinitud?<br />FILOTEO: ¿Pretendéis que es posible demostrar esta finitud?<br />ELPINO: ¿Qué extensión es ésta?<br />FILOTEO: ¿Qué límite es éste?<br />BURQUIO: Aunque esto sea verdad yo no lo quiero creer, porque no es posible que este infinito sea entendido por mi cabeza ni digerido por mi estómago, aún cuando, por así decirlo, quisiera que fuese tal como dice Filoteo, porque si por mala suerte, sucediese que yo me cayera de este mundo, encontraría siempre algún lugar<br /></br><br /></br><br />Giordano Bruno, “Sobre el infinito universo y los mundos”<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/S_CHtcsrndI/AAAAAAAAANM/grhAKPI-1GA/s1600/30888_395904317018_668022018_4705185_6844390_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/S_CHtcsrndI/AAAAAAAAANM/grhAKPI-1GA/s320/30888_395904317018_668022018_4705185_6844390_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472022762122616274" /></a><br /></br><br /></br><br />http://www.flickr.com/photos/meldeazul/<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-713032068057019684?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-67799094135564381462010-05-15T16:53:00.000-07:002010-05-15T17:15:48.615-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br>“conspirar juntos</br><br />eso es lindo”</br><br /></br><br /></br><br />conversando con mel<br /></br><br /></br><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/S-82_ciTlhI/AAAAAAAAANE/6nULu8PiDIE/s1600/mate+y+pava.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/S-82_ciTlhI/AAAAAAAAANE/6nULu8PiDIE/s320/mate+y+pava.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471652535898183186" /></a><br /></br><br /></br><br />http://www.flickr.com/photos/carorossi/<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-6779909413556438146?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-285113569718660622010-04-03T08:53:00.000-07:002010-06-13T09:24:36.021-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />“¿sabés que es lo bueno de escuchar música en la calle?<br />que parece que todos escuchan <br />lo mismo que vos”<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Lucia Puenzo. XXY<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/TBT6sZLZYTI/AAAAAAAAANU/IImLzK_iPg8/s1600/4506554775_2488e85e46_m.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 180px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/TBT6sZLZYTI/AAAAAAAAANU/IImLzK_iPg8/s320/4506554775_2488e85e46_m.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482282286996611378" /></a><br /></br><br /></br><br />Foto:</br><br />http://www.flickr.com/photos/ateo/<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-28511356971866062?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-51876504643479771072010-03-26T16:50:00.000-07:002010-03-27T13:34:32.959-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br>“yo no se razonar sensación</br><br />solo puedo sentir</br> <br />y sentir”</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />El Otro Yo<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/S65rcx3jE7I/AAAAAAAAAKs/tSMyt_Zoc1I/s1600/2054004410_d888bc0ef7_m.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 180px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/S65rcx3jE7I/AAAAAAAAAKs/tSMyt_Zoc1I/s320/2054004410_d888bc0ef7_m.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453414340959081394" /></a><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />foto: Pilar Almagro Paz</br><br />http://www.flickr.com/photos/pilar-almagro-paz<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-5187650464347977107?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-30500403736107099522010-03-05T10:12:00.000-08:002010-03-05T10:45:51.352-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br>“y perder fue lo más parecido a salir del mar</br> <br />una tarde, la última tarde</br> <br />del último día de vacaciones”</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Pilar Almagro Paz. Serie veraneo</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/S5FPhcbJVlI/AAAAAAAAAJo/DfnAUkO97lw/s1600-h/2054625009_5793a81f6f_m.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 180px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/S5FPhcbJVlI/AAAAAAAAAJo/DfnAUkO97lw/s320/2054625009_5793a81f6f_m.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445220860451968594" /></a><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />foto: Pilar Almagro Paz</br><br />http://www.flickr.com/photos/pilar-almagro-paz/page7/</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-3050040373610709952?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-2540510330636375752010-02-16T12:38:00.000-08:002010-06-13T09:24:06.197-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br>“extraño todos los lugares</br> <br />a los que nunca</br><br />fuimos”</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Isabel Coixet. Elegí<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/TBUFlNFByfI/AAAAAAAAANc/dJg1YbwEfqE/s1600/3427030484_95d39a0667.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/TBUFlNFByfI/AAAAAAAAANc/dJg1YbwEfqE/s320/3427030484_95d39a0667.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482294258117495282" /></a><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Foto:</br><br />http://pablopecora.wordpress.com<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-254051033063637575?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-55252964126764929092010-02-03T18:46:00.000-08:002010-02-03T18:49:02.805-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br>“cuanto placer puede darme el dolor,</br><br />como el amor de los desconocidos</br><br />me espera el sol en una estación”</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Leo García. Tesoro<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-5525296412676492909?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-89442691673155174102010-01-31T11:13:00.000-08:002010-01-31T12:03:36.771-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br>“¿Cómo se hace<br />para no estar<br />en ninguna parte?”<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Beatriz Vignoli. Nadie sabe adónde va la noche.<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/S2Xh9_vWcFI/AAAAAAAAAH0/5nVtRYaC9fo/s1600-h/2503593616_a69bff08f1_m.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 160px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/S2Xh9_vWcFI/AAAAAAAAAH0/5nVtRYaC9fo/s320/2503593616_a69bff08f1_m.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432996980690677842" /></a><br /></br><br />foto: http://www.flickr.com/photos/lasibilla/<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-8944269167315517410?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-76212444160366125442010-01-25T15:45:00.000-08:002010-02-02T03:10:53.527-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />“¿qué otra cosa puedo hacer?</br> <br />si no olvido moriré, y otro crimen quedará…</br> <br />otro crimen quedará… sin resolver”</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Gustavo Cerati. Crimen<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-7621244416036612544?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-5741096020313625562010-01-21T15:44:00.000-08:002010-01-21T16:34:08.520-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br>“las cartas de amor</br><br />se responden</br><br />o se devuelven”<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Lucrecia Martel. La mujer sin cabeza<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/S1jxIoPrO8I/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5looI0fBhec/s1600-h/Imagen049.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/S1jxIoPrO8I/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5looI0fBhec/s320/Imagen049.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429354481339546562" /></a><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />imagen: <br /></br><br />http://www.flickr.com/photos/noalaspracticasortivas/<br /></br><br />www.flickr.com/photos/ladystick/<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-574109602031362556?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-7562753090079026522010-01-14T06:42:00.000-08:002010-02-02T03:11:36.209-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />“agarró mi piloto del perchero, me lo puso</br> <br />con esa violencia que a veces tiene</br> <br />el amor, sobre los hombros”</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />http://laberlinktos.pbworks.com/morir+en+bicicleta</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-756275309007902652?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-29227267572080095752010-01-02T11:34:00.000-08:002010-01-02T11:37:52.835-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />"saudade <br />é uma estrela que não existe</br> <br />mais e continua brilhando"</br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Silvana Tavano</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-2922726757208009575?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-38033036898979556142009-12-26T13:33:00.000-08:002010-01-10T11:07:48.860-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />“me acusas de no quererte, no digas eso</br><br />tal vez no comprendas nunca</br> <br />viday, porque me alejo”<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Atahualpa Yupanqui, Piedra y Camino</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/S0of1OnYswI/AAAAAAAAAF0/kcR-ZwoT4IQ/s1600-h/cruce+-+jorisday+007.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/S0of1OnYswI/AAAAAAAAAF0/kcR-ZwoT4IQ/s320/cruce+-+jorisday+007.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425183700438004482" /></a><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />foto: http://www.flickr.com/photos/jorisday/<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-3803303689897955614?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-67579199281151609352009-12-26T13:32:00.000-08:002010-01-10T11:51:34.093-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />no hay vuelta al lugar</br><br />de donde vinimos</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Alice in Chains</br><br />All Secrets Known Alice in Chains</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/S0ovYBUEgZI/AAAAAAAAAGE/7JICLvcxw9Y/s1600-h/dic+2008+118.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/S0ovYBUEgZI/AAAAAAAAAGE/7JICLvcxw9Y/s320/dic+2008+118.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425200790837166482" /></a><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />http://www.flickr.com/photos/jorisday/<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-6757919928115160935?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-25982293961331921152009-12-25T14:30:00.000-08:002010-01-03T11:40:47.478-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br>“sos todo lo que yo siempre soñé,</br><br />ya me desperté,</br> <br />y sigo dormida”</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Ana Prada</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-2598229396133192115?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-77032858429267593102009-12-24T07:08:00.000-08:002009-12-24T07:10:31.272-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />“como de jóvenes gatos abrazados,</br><br />amigos enredados,</br> <br />pensamientos separados”</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Rosario Bléfari<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-7703285842926759310?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-34694408172769999692009-12-18T16:50:00.000-08:002010-01-10T12:20:58.564-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br>“traías más que amor</br><br />otros milagros”</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Ana Prada<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/S0o12dZNtyI/AAAAAAAAAGM/5g4W56MCvFc/s1600-h/madrid+(66).jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/S0o12dZNtyI/AAAAAAAAAGM/5g4W56MCvFc/s320/madrid+(66).jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425207910840776482" /></a><br /></br><br /></br><br />foto: http://www.flickr.com/photos/jorisday/</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-3469440817276999969?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-25598441812658469842009-12-15T10:17:00.001-08:002011-06-15T07:48:47.744-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />“estoy cansado pero no vencido</br><br />anestesiado pero no dormido (…)</br><br />enamorado del árbol caído”</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Lisandro Aristimuño</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/S0oTk7s1kYI/AAAAAAAAAFk/Ftx0lqgll58/s1600-h/100_0415.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 218px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/S0oTk7s1kYI/AAAAAAAAAFk/Ftx0lqgll58/s320/100_0415.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425170226343154050" /></a><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />dibujo: http://patodepiedra.blogspot.com/2009/07/chica-durmiendo.html</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-2559844181265846984?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-62197584333274825852009-12-05T07:05:00.000-08:002009-12-05T07:08:37.685-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />“lo bueno de tenerte siempre ahí</br><br />es como sentir que te me estas yendo”</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Ana Prada<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-6219758433327482585?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-46515941863479032242009-12-05T06:59:00.000-08:002009-12-24T07:11:28.464-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />"- ¿cuál es tu ideal de mujer perfecta?</br><br />- mujer perfecta es un oxímoron"</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Kyle Baker</br><br />En “Por qué yo odio a saturno”</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-4651594186347903224?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-20535044520658922012009-11-27T20:41:00.000-08:002009-11-27T20:44:33.728-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />“¿cual es tu medida de tiempo preferida?<br />la mía: a veces”<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />el abrazo partido<br />Daniel Burman<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-2053504452065892201?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-22540389739552428632009-11-25T13:59:00.000-08:002010-01-03T11:41:56.398-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />"ilusión más tiempo <br />es igual a desilusión"</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />http://www.linkternas.wordpress.com<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-2254038973955242863?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-21394262234779954712009-11-20T16:34:00.000-08:002010-01-10T10:16:20.980-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br>“esta es mi corteza</br><br />donde el hacha golpeará”</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />L.A. Spinetta <br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/S0oY2zd4l9I/AAAAAAAAAFs/uY2D_FfUwsE/s1600-h/esta+es+mi+corteza+donde+el+hacha+golpear%C3%A1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/S0oY2zd4l9I/AAAAAAAAAFs/uY2D_FfUwsE/s320/esta+es+mi+corteza+donde+el+hacha+golpear%C3%A1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425176030928738258" /></a><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />http://www.flickr.com/photos/rosachina/<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-2139426223477995471?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-25525524794123488302009-11-20T14:21:00.000-08:002009-11-20T14:23:01.841-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />"tengo mucho agradecimiento,</br> <br />pero nada de dependencia"</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Luisa Calcumil<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-2552552479412348830?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-26385526767041101162009-10-26T16:25:00.000-07:002009-10-26T16:28:47.388-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />“no se si ya lo sabrás</br><br />mi vida se fue contigo</br><br />…contigo mi amor, contigo…”</br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Daniel Toro</br><br />“Zamba para olvidar”</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-2638552676704110116?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-49885934448348614782009-10-03T12:29:00.000-07:002009-10-03T12:31:22.006-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />"Hoy tiene que ser</br> <br />un día</br><br />gratis"</br> <br /></br><br /></br><br />Guillermo de Pósfay</br> <br /></br><br /></br></br> <br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-4988593444834861478?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-65304644979397458542009-09-30T18:55:00.000-07:002010-01-10T11:34:41.669-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br>“una vez me cai de la bici</br><br />no una cosa de looocos pero...</br><br />dolió por entonces”</br><br /></br><br /></br><br />http://www.flickr.com/photos/nogood83/3934575075/</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/S0orX-AtBbI/AAAAAAAAAF8/8TVlUuW8NY4/s1600-h/semana+santa+09+067.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/S0orX-AtBbI/AAAAAAAAAF8/8TVlUuW8NY4/s320/semana+santa+09+067.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425196391904118194" /></a><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />foto: http://www.flickr.com/photos/jorisday <br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-6530464497939745854?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-57819257192943058272009-09-28T04:15:00.000-07:002009-09-28T04:17:17.660-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />“E as coisas lindas são mais lindas</br><br />Quando você está”</br><br /></br><br /></br>Nando Reis<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-5781925719294305827?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-8876240370480462932009-09-19T10:12:00.000-07:002009-09-19T10:14:41.002-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />“las ideas son vueltos perdidos</br><br />que jamás quedan en los bolsillos”</br><br /></br><br />Rosario Bléfari</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-887624037048046293?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-89698059798530923392009-09-18T15:22:00.000-07:002010-01-23T06:52:45.015-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />“un horizonte es otro horizonte</br><br />...no se va en bicicleta tan lejos,</br><br />ahora estan los autos..."</br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Rosa Schiwndt</br><br />(Extracto de Proyecto Hermosura)<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/S1sMXQMuKKI/AAAAAAAAAHY/3eloLI6YPcE/s1600-h/san+gregorio+16-10-07+016.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/S1sMXQMuKKI/AAAAAAAAAHY/3eloLI6YPcE/s320/san+gregorio+16-10-07+016.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429947369350113442" /></a><br /></br><br /></br><br />foto: http://flickr.com/photos/jorisday/<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-8969805979853092339?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-86461160071256403692009-09-16T19:23:00.000-07:002009-09-18T15:10:29.145-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />“llevo la guía del viajero</br><br />dice que somos eternos pasajeros”</br><br /></br><br />Martín Buscaglia</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-8646116007125640369?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-72957478778412099162009-09-09T05:50:00.000-07:002010-01-10T17:46:35.322-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />“Enquanto eles desfilam em tanques,</br> <br />nós passeamos de bicicleta…”</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Adoniran Barbosa</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/S0qBNRJFy_I/AAAAAAAAAGU/bntNL4osVAw/s1600-h/bicicleta+-+girasoles.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 287px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/S0qBNRJFy_I/AAAAAAAAAGU/bntNL4osVAw/s320/bicicleta+-+girasoles.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425290766060997618" /></a><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />dibujo: publicado en http://www.apocalipsemotorizado.net<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-7295747877841209916?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-67626214559647348682009-09-03T18:30:00.000-07:002010-01-25T15:57:03.793-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />“a veces he creído</br> <br />hasta seis cosas imposibles</br> <br />antes del desayuno”</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br>Lewis Carrol<br />En Alicia a través del espejo</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/S1sORCwBRrI/AAAAAAAAAHg/w4_8fj4K0rg/s1600-h/2595431405_b41bef96a0.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 222px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/S1sORCwBRrI/AAAAAAAAAHg/w4_8fj4K0rg/s320/2595431405_b41bef96a0.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429949461684111026" /></a><br /></br><br /></br><br />dibujo: http://www.flickr.com/photos/angui/2595431405/<br />http://anawandzik.wordpress.com/</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-6762621455964734868?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-81856103297537323932009-09-03T08:09:00.000-07:002009-09-18T15:11:18.669-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />"sem tensão</br> <br />não há solução"</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />dito popular</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-8185610329753732393?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-72101884519628636732009-08-26T07:39:00.000-07:002009-09-18T15:11:41.369-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />“este pueblo, tan fácil</br> <br />de conmover, sabe también</br> <br />mostrarse insensible”</br><br /></br><br /></br><br />F. Kafka</br><br />(en Josefina la cantora o el pueblo de los ratones)</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-7210188451962863673?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-24136075497045813852009-08-23T10:43:00.000-07:002009-09-18T15:12:04.558-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />“todo tiempo pasado es peor<br />no hay tiempo perdido peor<br />que el perdido en añorar”<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />J. Drexler<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-2413607549704581385?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-72972938363714984182009-08-17T11:03:00.000-07:002009-09-18T15:12:20.352-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />“las certezas me dan desconfianza</br><br />quiero un beso que me llene</br><br />de preguntas”</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Coiffeur<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-7297293836371498418?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-21297752879987547732009-07-26T03:07:00.000-07:002009-09-18T15:12:35.145-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />“igual no me pienso matar por vos<br />que más da<br />morir o vivir sin tu amor”<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Loquero<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-2129775287998754773?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-87343464342591484412009-07-19T11:13:00.000-07:002009-09-18T15:12:56.495-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />“la diferencia entre</br> <br />avistar tierra, naufragar</br> <br />o nunca jamás zarpar”</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />William James</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-8734346434259148441?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-47216312767986453872009-07-14T13:24:00.000-07:002009-09-18T15:13:12.865-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />“siempre son dos<br />que dicen estoy solo<br />siempre por vos”<br /></br><br /></br><br />Eduardo Mateo<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-4721631276798645387?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-63287337170453675812009-06-15T11:02:00.001-07:002009-09-18T15:13:36.605-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />“en la ventana brilla el sol<br />propaganda oficial de dios”<br /></br><br /></br><br />loquero<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-6328733717045367581?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-23289247971680635482009-06-14T02:00:00.000-07:002009-09-18T15:14:07.862-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br />“yo te saqué una foto en mi cabeza<br />sé que va a ser <br />estampita en mi santuario”<br /></br><br /></br><br />Coiffeur<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-2328924797168063548?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-43631001362429956072009-06-07T02:22:00.000-07:002009-09-18T15:14:24.750-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br />"quizás <br />fue mejor para los dos<br />pero muy malo para mi"<br /></br><br /></br><br />L. Maslíah<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-4363100136242995607?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-55446200497162117812009-06-06T04:07:00.001-07:002009-09-18T15:14:38.767-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br />"por entonces <br />mi soledad<br />ya era olímpica"<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Patricio Barandian<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-5544620049716211781?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-31337762516572537862009-05-22T01:29:00.000-07:002009-12-05T07:20:13.247-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br />“Es posible <br />reducir la incertidumbre <br />aumentando la ignorancia”<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Brian Wynne<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-3133776251657253786?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-37235407709363924722009-05-11T06:52:00.000-07:002009-09-18T15:15:09.882-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br />"sin embargo, <br />no nos quejamos: <br />no llegamos a tanto"<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />Franz Kafka<br />En Josefina la cantora o el pueblo de los ratones<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-3723540770936392472?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-37395453652473401922009-05-08T02:06:00.000-07:002009-12-05T07:21:00.268-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />"hoy estoy <br />un poquito triste<br />cuando no"<br /></br><br />Loquero<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-3739545365247340192?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-71279127199575766122009-05-02T09:27:00.000-07:002010-01-10T17:34:37.219-08:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />"Por cierto, la actitud que entonces asumían las mujeres era una de las paradojas del barrio. La mayoría formaban en las filas de las "emancipadas", y hacían profesión de protestar contra el predominio del macho. Con todo, estas mujeres a la moderna pagaban a un hombre el tributo que ninguna mujer común y corriente está dispuesta a pagarle nunca: el de oírle hablar con la mayor atención" <br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />El hombre que fue jueves</br> <br />(Pesadilla)</br> <br />por G. K. Chesterton</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-7127912719957576612?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-55018441210300007342009-05-02T07:04:00.000-07:002009-09-18T15:16:19.066-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />yo quería hacer un fanzine que reversionara haikus (?), frases de otros que según el corte de verso tuvieran la potencia y la simpleza necesaria que contiene un haiku (más allá de la cantidad de silabas y otros rollos técnicos que no manejo) <br /></br><br /></br><br />tanto quería que casi convenzo a algunos amigos para hacerlo, y quien sabe.. aún esta en la lista de proyectos inconclusos, ese tipo de cosas que queremos hacer porque si<br /></br><br />algunos se concretan, y otros no, el porqué es un misterio<br /></br><br />aca va el primero, el responsable del capricho que no llego a materializarse..<br /></br><br /></br><br />"las burbujas son un juguete<br />que le ponen a la bebida"<br /></br><br />Podetti<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-5501844121030000734?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-70324810577460170752009-05-02T06:43:00.000-07:002009-09-18T15:17:11.392-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/SfxOfqQd82I/AAAAAAAAAEA/6iRQvuqtkG8/s1600-h/peque%C3%B1o+cielo+o+mar+domestico.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MKAK4BMB0cQ/SfxOfqQd82I/AAAAAAAAAEA/6iRQvuqtkG8/s320/peque%C3%B1o+cielo+o+mar+domestico.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331222364726096738" /></a><br /></br><br />"A veces la vida nos da una visión momentánea de algo que quiebra el orden de la realidad, como si el mundo estuviera hecho de infinitos mundos que de vez en cuando confluyen"<br /></br><br /></br><br />A. Bioy Casares<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-7032481057746017075?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-44564140596815173622009-05-02T06:34:00.000-07:002009-05-02T06:43:47.814-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />"la música esta en el aire no se puede tocar<br />solo grita “mía!” quien la quiere escuchar"<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br />leída por ahí, en uno de esos tantos blogs que nos regalan discos<br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-4456414059681517362?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-24397187672929161042009-01-06T03:05:00.000-08:002009-05-02T06:37:15.329-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /><blockquote></blockquote>"la gente que amas y que no conociste bien son los lugares a los que quisieras ir"<blockquote></blockquote><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br> <br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-2439718767292916104?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-14850423414077489592008-05-26T14:30:00.000-07:002008-05-26T14:38:25.673-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Verdana">cómo pocas veces en mi vida sentí que existía una nada extensa, silenciadora y profunda, sin límites... soñé que estaba en una avenida, sentada en una mesita tomando algo, estaba con dos personas más que no recuerdo, cómo quiera que sea estas personas se paran al costado de la mesa, conversan o buscan algo. de un momento a otro se levanta viento, tengo de algún modo la conciencia de soñar, pero a la vez de no-control sobre lo que esta sucediendo, el viento es cada vez más fuerte y yo veo la mesita desde arriba como si fuera de utilería, cómo si fuera el montaje de una escenografía, el fondo se vuelve azul, similar a aquellos que se utilizan para grabar efectos especiales, y hay unas líneas blancas punteadas, como de tiza que no se bien que pueden significar. el viento es cada vez más fuerte, se transforma en un tifón, un huracán, y yo me agarro de la silla, me aferró como si de eso dependiera estar a salvo, un gesto inútil… me veo volando en el medio de ese viento agarrada a la silla, todo es gris como cuando se termina la programación de un canal de televisión y el mismo ruido ensordecedor como de falta de señal. empiezo a sentir miedo, la súbita conciencia de que todo esta fuera de control, me siento más que perdida echada a perder, como si mi existencia toda se diluyera en esa nada que me levanta por los aires como una hojita y me arrastra a un limbo desconocido y sin retorno</p><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-1485042341407748959?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-74013350804901198492008-04-30T19:17:00.000-07:002008-05-26T14:47:37.556-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Verdana">“adicta a los sinsentidos” me repetía mientras bajaba la escalera de madera, pero la madera crujía y ya no podía prestar atención a lo que pensaba, entonces volvía a creer que nada a mi alrededor tenía sentido y los escalones simulaban una espiral enorme e infinita en la que me veía girar como si estuviera bailando, y entonces ya no había pensamientos, ni crujidos, ni escalera, sólo baile</span><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-7401335080490119849?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-73894523678509593622008-04-06T09:46:00.000-07:002008-05-26T14:46:58.356-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><p style="text-align:left;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Verdana">“volver a partir antes de haber partido por primera vez” </p> <br /></br><br /></br><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Verdana">se puede jugar con las palabras, arrancárselas a otros, darlas vuelta y mezclarlas por pura diversión, por puro aburrimiento, por pura desilusión. </p> <p style="font-family: times new roman;" class="MsoNormal">lo que no se puede es jugar con el tiempo.</p><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-7389452367850959362?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-22783364698685629652008-03-31T23:03:00.000-07:002008-05-26T14:48:53.507-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Verdana">'Después de una noche sin dormir las miradas de los demás son armas peligrosas'</p><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br> <br /></p> <p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Verdana">4.a.m. en <st1:personname productid="la Terminal" st="on">la Terminal</st1:personname> y el día por delante. Mi perra ladra frenéticamente cada vez que me voy de madrugada, eso es una vez por semana. En el silencio de la noche es, más que un lamento, una queja: me acusa de abandonarla, me voy y no la llevo conmigo. Salgo al pasillo y mientras me alejo, compruebo que los ladridos se escuchan en toda la cuadra. Ladra como si la estuvieran cortando al medio con un serrucho. Pobre, no sospecha que de algún modo esa es, exactamente, la fantasía que tengo cuando la escucho. </p><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-2278336469868562965?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-52567825327946454852008-03-27T20:42:00.000-07:002008-05-26T14:44:09.920-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /><p class="MsoNormal">Cuando en una película llueve torrencialmente, justamente como anoche, y los truenos son atronadoramente redundantes y ensordecen, uno sabe que lo que esta por venir no es nada bueno. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Me duermo entre estampidas de luz que dejan entrever, en las paredes, figuras monstruosas, fragmentos de luz de algo así como animales nocturnos. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Por las noches se sueña, dicen, aunque uno no se acuerde. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Me despierto con un calambre <span style=""> </span>-de pantorrilla- entre mi piel y el tatuaje accidental de las sábanas. </p><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-5256782532794645485?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-62547588356949703532008-03-19T07:40:00.000-07:002008-05-26T14:46:10.101-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Verdana">Volví a casa con una caja de ceritas. ¡No puedo creer que todavía tengan en las tiendas cosas como esta! <div align="justify">Es diminuta y tiene una ilustración graciosa. Una niña de ojos enormes (signo de que fue dibujada por hombrecitos de ojos rasgados) dos colitas con moños azules, azul también el vestido de una sola pieza, zapatitos rojos que se doblan hacia dentro como signo de inocencia y candidez. </div><div align="justify">Frente a sí, tiene un caballete con unos dibujos que contempla delicadamente, mientras toma con sus dos manitos el dobladillo de su vestido. A sus pies, una sola flor roja con una o dos hojitas verdes. Shanghai, China. 12 colores.<br />Tengo curiosidad por ver adonde me llevará esto.<br />Shanghai, China. 12 colores. Tengo predilección por el negro. Su densa energía proviene de poseer en sí todos los demás colores. Así me siento: negra - negra. </div><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-6254758835694970353?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6729233551933835867.post-74451404888862044512008-03-17T20:17:00.000-07:002008-05-26T14:45:14.536-07:00</br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">4 a. m. llego a la terminal de ómnibus. la patente del micro dice <em>AFK 314</em>, pero yo leo AFriKa durante un rato.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">delante mío, una parejita casi adolescente lleva de la mano dos nenas que no pasan los cuatro años. antes de subir, le pagan al chofer el seguro por las nenas que viajan sin pasaje. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">el chofer busca cambio en una billetera de cuero</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><em>- no tienen más chico, no?</em> pregunta por las dudas, por rutina</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><em>- no, éstas dos nomás.</em> contesta la mamá casi adolescente</span></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">el chofer se rie y aclara el malentendido.a mi me da mucha ternura.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">subo y busco asiento. por pura curiosidad me fijo que dice mi pasaje: <em>butaca 17</em>, pero yo me siento en otro lado.</span><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><br /></br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6729233551933835867-7445140488886204451?l=jorisday-blockdenotas.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>jorisdayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17493243161169691401noreply@blogger.com0