EL EROTISMO EN LA LITERATURA NO ES SOLO SOBRE EL PENE

 

EN EL NOVENO GRADO Yo una vez en plena clase de Literatura le pregunté a la profe: Dra. X. - ¿el erotismo en la literatura tiene que ver con la erección del pene? Ella se sonrojo y desvió la respuesta. Claro que yo sabía la explicación pero quería impresionar a mis demás compañeros pacatos como un clamor de adolescente nueve.--------------------- I once in the middle of Literature class asked the teacher: Dr. X. - Does eroticism in literature have to do with penis erection? She blushed and deflected the answer. Sure I knew the explanation but I wanted to impress my other cocky peers like a teenager nine cry. ORLANDO VICENTE------

 

  Yo una vez en plena clase de Literatura le pregunté a la profe: Dra. X. - ¿el erotismo en la literatura tiene que ver con la erección del pene?

  Ella se sonrojo y desvió la respuesta. Claro que yo sabía la explicación pero quería impresionar  a mis demás compañeros pacatos como un clamor de adolescente nueve.

ORLANDO VICENTE 

I once in the middle of Literature class asked the teacher: Dr. X. - Does eroticism in literature have to do with penis erection? She blushed and deflected the answer. Sure I knew the explanation but I wanted to impress my other cocky peers like a teenager nine cry. ORLANDO VICENTE

DEMIAN BY HERMAN HESSE Arte y Literatura etS1pio4l ihnsorhed · Herman Hesse, prologo de "Demian" "La vida de todo hombre es un camino hacia sí mismo, la tentativa de un camino, la huella de un sendero. Ningún hombre ha sido nunca por completo él mismo; pero todos aspiran a llegar a serlo, oscuramente unos, más claramente otros, cada uno como puede. Todos llevan consigo, hasta el fin, viscosidades y cáscaras de huevo de un mundo primordial. Alguno no llega jamás a ser hombre, y sigue siendo rana, ardilla u hormiga.

  fragmentos del libro Demian de Hermann Hesse

(...)

"El jardín no tenía perfume, el bosque no me atraía, el Mundo se extendía alrededor de mí como un saldo de trastos viejos, insípido y desencantado; los libros eran papel; la música, ruido. No de otro modo pierde sus hojas el árbol otoñal en torno suyo. No lo siente, y la lluvia, la escarcha y el sol resbalan por su tronco, mientras su vida se retira a lo más íntimo y recóndito. No muere. Espera".

(...)

"Por eso la mayoría de los seres humanos vive tan irrealmente; porque creen que las imágenes exteriores son la realidad y no permiten a su propio mundo interior manifestarse. Se puede ser muy feliz así, desde luego. Pero cuando se conoce lo otro, ya no se puede elegir el camino de la mayoría. Sinclair, el camino de la mayoría es fácil, el nuestro es difícil. Caminemos." Ver menos

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ARTE Y LITERATURA

etS1pio4l ihnsorhed  · 

Herman Hesse, prologo de "Demian"

"La vida de todo hombre es un camino hacia sí mismo,

la tentativa de un camino, la huella de un sendero.

Ningún hombre ha sido nunca por completo él mismo;

pero todos aspiran a llegar a serlo, oscuramente unos, más claramente otros,

cada uno como puede. Todos llevan consigo, hasta el fin,

viscosidades y cáscaras de huevo de un mundo primordial.

Alguno no llega jamás a ser hombre,

y sigue siendo rana, ardilla u hormiga.

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 22, 2020

630,000 VISITAS,VISITS

 OCTUBRE 2020.

SALMINEN,RENOIR,PICTURES

THE FIRST PROSTITUT

 

THE FIRST JINETERA IN GUANTÁNAMO

     It was a Sunday night. The young people had gathered in the central park, the only place where they could link a girl. All Clubs were closed. The Special Period intensified the shortcomings after the fall of the communist world of Europe and there was not even a beer to share.
  Suddenly a skinny black woman dressed unmistakably with luminous clothes only bought in Havana's shopping arose from among the people.
   The young woman went quietly with an effeminate boy accompanying her. I was in those moments in my car and I stopped because of curiosity.
   The whole crowd shouted:
   - Jinetera, Jinetera!
   And everyone verbally attacked the poor girl who did not flinch.
   Guajiros from the city of the interiorw We were. When in Havana they swarmed without shame hunting foreigners and it was normal.
   The girl walked down the street as if she were not with her, talking to the homosexual without any embarrassment.
  We were not yet used to seeing prostitution parading our streets. We were virgins of Capitalism. But Fidel Castro was commissioned in a speech to give them propaganda: - ARE HEALTHY, BEAUTIFUL AND EDUCATED.
   European and Canadian tourists pounced on Cuba looking for easy sex.
   When the thing became uncontrollable, the Defense Committee of the Revolution organized acts of repudiation in front of the houses of the poor jineteras, making them angry. But they could not stop the phenomenon, the jineterismo generalized. They were the only girls who had shampoo, jabon, cosmetics and foreign clothes.
   The authorities gave up. A doctor woman dreamed of being a jinetera and not have to take care of patients and so. it was with everything: pimps, penguins, rent rooms so that tourists could have sex with the jineteras and much more ...
   We must criticize the central committee of the PCC. You had to see them gathered in front of the commander-in-chief with their hands under the tables. It was not easier. They passed from hand to hand the wads of dollars that they took to the illicit business but encouraged by the highest figures of Castroism.
    And so the jineterismo became international and the main attraction for the Galicians.

DR ORLANDO VICENTE ALVAREZ
CUBANO URUGUAYO,GENIO
........................................
more,see

https://www.amazon.es/Libros-Orlando-Alvarez/s?ie=UTF8&page=1&rh=n%3A599364031%2Cp_27%3AOrlando%20Alvarez

LOVE OVERCOMES ALL #Tacuarembo,#URUGUAY Fragment of the novel "Palms and Ombues" -------- LOVE OVERCOMES ALL--

 

LOVE OVERCOMES ALL

#Tacuarembo,#URUGUAY Fragment of the novel "Palms and Ombues" ARCO ORLO.

Fragment of the novel "Palms and Ombues"

ARCO ORLO.

      The bus was quickly down the highway linking Montevideo to Tacuarembó department. We were in the summer and the heat and the smell of sweat were sweltering. Passengers dozed or bored watching the landscape that passed on both sides of the road. I also watched the picture to my left, lined by green pastures and wool sheeps and cows. Occasionally the monotony was broken by a yellowish ceibo under which the cows took shelter from the burning sun.

       Iñaqui Echevarria slept beside me with loud snoring. We agreed not to sleep during the trip so that your snoring cursed not disturb the other passengers. But No. With his long legs and neck stretched seemed a steam locomotive damaged. They say that snoring during sleep is that is at peace with himself and has the spirit sedate. I for one do not usually sleep during any trip either by bus, train or aircraft long flight. It must be that my damned spirits are always restless and those of Iñaqui enjoy the peace of the Lord. I know him well and is not so: it has a thousand demons that haunt him.

The bus stopped frequently by stray cattle grazing along the path where the grass was taller and fresh. You could tell that a rainstorm had swept the area, puddles and bright pasture

    After nearly five hours of travel, which was the time stipulated by Iñaqui, I was surprised to see my left a not very high hill. White, by the stone and the sun was rising on a hill. I remembered a thick cock beheaded.

   __ We are already reaching Tacuarembó__ Iñaqui said after waking up for my elbow that strikes him. He looked around and saw the imposing hill.

   Finally. I said to myself, after five hours with numb ass on that trip that passed me by the balls.

  We arrived at the terminal of the provincial capital city. Iñaqui first thing he did was look for the cafeteria. It was his favorite vice: food. The other was sex. We ordered half giant moons with ham, cheese and butter, watered by coke. And appetite sated, we devote ourselves to find a hotel or an inn (the latter was the favorite of Iñaqui by lower costs)

   A few blocks from the terminal, asking, they indicated one. Small and with an awning on the outside where an old man sat in bermudas graying taking the cool of the evening. He was the owner. It turned out that there was no longer quotas. The next day there would be a close event. Villa Ancina, a town about 50 kilometers from Tacuarembó the feast of Our Lady of Itati be held. Reason that everything was full.