A saber dónde está el cielo by Blanca Busquets

By Blanca Busquets

Todos tenemos un pasado, incluso el presentador del programa de radio más escuchado del país. Pero por culpa de una bad equivocación Sergi, que hasta hoy ha sido una estrella mediática, se verá perseguido por ese pasado que, ahora que lo ha conseguido todo, puede dejarlo sin nada, comenzando por el prestigio y acabando por el trabajo. Nunca sabremos qué hay detrás de aquella voz que nos acompaña todas las tardes. Con una prosa cercana y bella, Blanca Busquets extrae a través de unos personajes inolvidables los diamantes en bruto que encierra los angeles cotidianidad. Sus vidas y sus pensamientos nos demuestran que l. a. realidad y los angeles ficción están más cerca de lo que puede parecer.

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I tell you, I pity that darky more than I blame him. ” They were in the bar of the Continental Hotel, 30 Paul Laurence Dunbar and the old gentleman sipped his liquor as he talked. “It’s just like this: The North thought they were doing a great thing when they come down here and freed all the slaves. They thought they were doing a great thing, and I’m not saying a word against them. I give them the credit for having the courage of their convictions. But I maintain that they were all wrong, now, in turning these people loose upon the country the way they did, with­ out knowledge of what the first principle of liberty was.

He was talk­ ing animatedly to the girl, having changed the general trend of the conversation to a manner and tone directed more particularly to her. While she listened to him, her face glowed and her eyes shone with a light that every man could not bring into them. Why could not Francis marry Claire Less­ ing and settle in America, instead of going back ever and again to that life in the Latin Quarter? They did not be­ lieve that it was a bad life or a dissipated one, but from the little that they had seen of it when they were in Paris, it was at least a bit too free and unconventional for their traditions.

Well, I guess we can take you on,” he said. ” “Joe,” was the laconic answer. He was afraid to say more. ” Young Hamilton went over and sat down on a bench which ran along the hotel corridor and where the bell­ man were wont to stay during the day awaiting their calls. A few of the blue-coated Mercuries were there. Upon Joe’s advent they began to look askance at him and to talk among themselves. He felt his face burning as he thought of what they must be saying. Then he saw the head bellman talking to the clerk and looking in his direction.

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