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Luckily our Prime Minister recently read (apart from the Sport, at Barca, and the General, who is his outside spokesman) and thankfully also gives little English foot ball. I say this because with all the discussions that involves the Education for Citizenship as a subject and especially the difficulty of instilling in which we are no longer of compulsory school age if he had discovered the existence of SanaMens, the company McKeesport would not suffice.

(Announced in the brilliant blog of Dr. Boli)

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I was lucky enough to make a beautiful trip, I met the Peruvian Amazon. Something inside me leads me again and again to that country, which already feel like my second home.

wish I could tell what I felt in the jungle, my experiences ... but I know it is an experience not transferable. to the jungle, you must live it, feel!

The lush vegetation, pleasant climate, the vastness of the Green Mountains, full of life, riches and mysteries! not to mention the people! so warm and cheerful.

While I could not get a virgin forest (for security reasons), I feel that this place still holds surprises me in my search and interior achievements. It is very easy to connect with yourself there and have a completely different dimension of what is meant by the words "Nature" and "immense"

few photos taken when he could and where we could ... just a tutorial guide me myself in the memories of this wonderful experience that I hope to repeat soon.

Thanks for having Peru and making me feel so alive, so loved, cared for, respected ... and thanks to your people to plant to me this burning desire to return to there like a second home. For those reading this ... I hope you enjoy my pictures, but from now on, I invite you to experience the Amazon jungle ....... worth the distance, fatigue and adventure, I promise!

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was years ago. It was in the sacristy, to begin the solemn celebration of the feast of the patron. The altar boy looked compassionately to the bishop and the spontaneity that characterizes cheeky boys of our time he snapped: "No et sortir amb això fa vergonya the cap?" (Are not you ashamed of wearing it out in your head?). I remembered the phrase the last 25 as the crowd of prelates climbed the steps of the presbytery of Santa Maria del Mar in the beatification of Father Tous. Not far from me Mossèn Ll., Nearer ninety than eighty, grumbled because they had not booked site up, he had been parish priest here and there, closer in spirit to the Father Tous that some of the priests who occupied a seat next to his eminence and excellence (what was in the entourage inside the former secretary Archbishop unable to display other merit than mediocrity?). Pictured

head dozing under the miter angle is Cañizares. The whole environment was to raise that point of rest: the seat cushion, spring weather, the early start, the strain of not having an active role but enough presence, the cooing of the choir singing ... That moment was not so silent fan the brain, to contemplate how he spends his life and death comes, but to rest in the green pastures of a successful liturgy which passed with normal characteristic of what has been counted, measured, weighed. Others were on occasion to those who belonged to stay awake and vigilant. As Secretary of State President, to smile, to be aware of everything. As the ordinary, first from the right, with the watchful eye of Father of the Bride, a bit tense, happy fluently. As the arrogant master of ceremonies in his youth has not yet grasped that theirs is a profession like that of the servile historian in the seventeenth century, a métier et Mechanique replace Bercé a happy expression (something like that, unfortunately, many journalists today.) As the President Montilla, looking very interesting for the cameras, as if he cared fuck beatification (the camera does matter, flash, flash). But as the opponent, once again going ahead and losing, he would realize at the end of the ceremony that it is better to be in the third bank in the side hallway greeted by his eminent (as it was Duran i Lleida) in that forgotten No Man's Land Mid-second. As the Superior General of the pastors would be reviewing whether, in the end thanks to forget someone (no, Mother, no, not the last gargoyle of the basilica, thank you for ending a bloody time) . As the Capuchin confratelli Blessed in his humility, his venerable beard, making a counterweight to such pomp, as many purple robes, a turban so much. The miter angle was the most majestic, the highest no doubt, I suppose that somehow you have to offset the difference in physical entity, especially when you're next to a pivot like Don Carlos, whom the weight of years not bend or shrink.

Anyway, who has not ever slept in church cast the first stone. Or maybe not, maybe I'm wrong and it appears that Bishop was dozing but not pondered deeply, stopping lie in the fate of Toussaint would be the fate of everyone and especially those with diamond ring and a hat bearing the ultimate responsibility , charging that it is, to teach, to sanctify, to decide. Or perhaps it would be that of: "I sleep, but my heart is awake."

(In the end, I went to congratulate Brother Valenti, a historian nothing servile, there is more wisdom in his venerable beard hair Capuchin to be ever in the whole head that master of ceremonies, ugh, it is known that sometimes happens with blogs as shotguns, which loads the devil, dish, pum, pum, sorry).