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extropy 1.0: The Intruder (Homage to Philip K Dick)


For
Ademir Jesus Morales Rojas


Michio Koki then returned synchrony Space Center, but only to find there with an uproar.

Apparently a replicant saboteur was introduced to the facilities to spoil a major project Nexus.

Police officers in Los Angeles, Bryant and Gaff hunting replicants had been submitted from a few hours to facilities Cronian to warn the authorities of the impending threat.


immediately met with Koki, he suggested closing all access and prevent the escape of any person to locate the intruder and be able to stop. Koki
agreed.

"Now the task is to practice the Voight-Kampff test everyone of the space center," said the inspector bloated Bryant. Koki

approved it, glancing nervously brash Gaff of the agent. Gradually

the hundreds of scientists and employees were subjected to rigorous
guest trick questions.

A green light indicating its authentication as human beings.

The red was not yet on.

Then they spent all requests, and having determined his innocence,
by the method of detection of agents, Bryant ordered Gaff
Koki call and close the door.

"Wait," said Koki, I must warn employees who may leave the
Laboratories.

-yet-should-looking Bryant answered with insight, we must first ask yourself the test, we know that Michio Koki is Cyborg, non-replicating, that is why if there is no problem turning on the lights to go green when you are examined. Gaff

rough barked a few words in inter-language, demanding Koki hurry to commence the test. Koki

however, looked quiet for a while (and with eyes wide open to police officers) then said hesitantly:

"I think I should not do the test: What if one of you is the replicant intruder, and deceive me with false evidence to obtain permission to attempt on my life and from there take possession of all the information in synchrony? Gaff

immediately drew his revolver, Koki did the same.

"Get the gun Michio, or replicating, do not be silly.

"I'm not a replicant, but I do not want to risk it.

Gaff said something in his strange tongue. Bryant nodded.

-will give you a minute to decide to make, if not, you will pay the consequences: Gaff no misses a shot. Koki

nervous, began to sweat profusely.

"But what guarantees do I have that you are human? Perhaps one of you is the replicating and the other not be able to discover, in any case I see that you practice the test yourself.

people out after hours of waiting prevented from leaving the premises, started frantically banging on the door.

This sparked more the minds of three men:

Bryant raised his voice, Gaff and brought his gun barked Koki, and he shook his head, while trying to calm her trembling arm with the gun in front.

"People wait, hurry and he demanded Bryant.

- How do I know which among them is the replicant mobilizing others to put pressure? What if the replicants have long had supplanted us all without realizing it? I know I'm not replicating, but in a world populated mostly by them Who then is the replicant? - Koki whispered nervous without being able to

- Enough! - Bryant-answer shouted questions now or else

Gaff ... a little cracked his revolver. Koki sighed

and reluctantly accepted.

began to answer the questionnaire. When there was a single question, the phone rang.

None of the three wanted to pick up the handset, Bryant finally did, listened for a moment and then handed the phone to

"It's Koki Koki, from talking to you.

- Is this a joke or is part of the test?

- Are you saying I'm lying? Gaff Now

Bryant looked at with suspicion. Koki

advantage:

"Before I answer the call whether it is part of the test.

Bryant looked at him with hatred as he continued offering the handset to Koki.

This, very slowly, picked up the phone, took it to his ear, he heard: - No one in line: he said.

Then a shot rang out, Bryant fell to the floor with a hole in his chest. Gaff

smiled with satisfaction, had discovered the replicant, muttered some words of comfort to Koki: the hoax call had betrayed the replicant Bryant, I was looking for Koki to confuse the test fails. So you have a pretext to exterminate and steal secret information seamlessly.
opened the door and allowed everyone to leave the premises. Gaff
back then and conciliatory gesture offered his hand to Koki. This

smiled politely lifted his arm and flew the skull with his gun.

quietly read the last question test, answer it honestly: the light turned red.

The attacker then searched the database and in the written record the necessary information, then left the premises empty without a hitch. Michio Koki

When he arrived, the place, the group had informed him Orfeo intrusion to synchrony, and Koki had telephoned to inform the authorities before replicating, but this had been unsuccessful, and looked at the bodies and documentation revolt knew that the mysterious person who had killed Hassan-i-Sabbah, had been ahead once more. Koki then furiously squeezed the tiny figurine of paper into a chameleon, that the intruder had left on the floor of his office, before leaving quietly.



More of the novel group extropy:
http://www.escritorium.com/extropia/

Image taken from:
http://www.fosteronfilm.com/images/blade.jpg

Violet Red Hair Color Fits

The Rain brought

Nobody knew that evening with
gray sky with a storm threatening and unborn
would change things forever

People feared the rain and wind, looking
nowhere to run and where the storm
protected as they had been taught from a very small

But there was one person who rebelled
that day that he waited in the main square
smile seemed to enjoy a lot with what was to come

and when the rains finally began torenciales
that person began to dance in the streets jumped
in the puddles like a little kid

wet clothing was removed with an elegance and freedom never seen
their laughter could be heard inside the houses
people watched him behind its windows

and although he openly criticized
unsurprisingly there were a few people who made the decision
to accompany the upcoming rainy ... Will revolt!

and that's how
in that town on that day the gray sky
The rain brought great changes.

Tally 7.2 Errors Memory Asess Error

Dina Bellrham: The dark dragonfly burns Brief

For
Ademir Jesus Morales Rojas.


The wonderful thing about life is that every day gives us a new reason to disappear.
Cioran. -------------------------------------------------
--------------------------------------------------

--------------- Everything is easier without heart?
Sometimes I think I am a pot
With a string of snowy cores
And man ... and the world ...
learns to love ... I love

Village
Lily's mouth and spruce all crack me ...

... anything goes as long as my wings
swapped a pendulum in ecstasy

Absórbanme ephemeral children!
That I am always a line.

(From Absorbez-moi)



pain, failure, frustration ... that the world hangs in the void is obvious and distressing, and yet there are people who struggle to prevent irreparable fall, its absolute destruction.

Bellrham Dina's poetry is a valuable testimony of this redemptive urge that constantly transmuting, so often tortuous, emptying into words being lost reservations, food for the exhausted souls, are making a singular act of sacrifice and sneaky but eventually gives a rationale, however fragile and crystalline enough for the whole fabric of reality that contains us and leads.

My loves have been a heap of broken intensity.
My hands have always beat for a fleeting flight.
But I'm so intense and grim. Happy alone.

... If I have become universally eyes ...

... Rather, I am the sea. Because like it or not crawl to my side
filth and tenderness. I am a passive sponge.

Sometimes I think I have a layer of paradoxical powers and I can morph the heart of this wicked world.

(Letter Doctor)

is possible to analyze the compositions of the author where identified the following scheme:

1) I (enunciating poetic / author)
2) He (the beloved / the recipient of the message text)
3) The word (petals painted and silences red / poem / writing)

The interaction of these three core compositional results in a unique dialectic be summarized as follows:

a) First refusal (the poet refuses and transmuted into verses)

The poet / poetry advertiser done is alienated word elegant is unknown in terms of their nakedness, their anatomy exposed in a "sanitary" (perhaps the formation medical science, the author makes this transition) and the emptying of identity in the poem is reflected in many beautiful and expressive models:

I hung out to dry my
atrium where they emerge

words ... Everything is easier heartless

(De Absorbez-moi)

I feel invisible, stored in a canvas
archaic
was never famous ...
(De Retour)


'm caught in my reflection of human ...

(De Epistle (poetic prose )



My hands do not understand dwarf their anxiety malnourished or these eyes
his unexpected sliver
who wanders in

wheel skeleton (De spiders bipolar)




Second negation (the verses are not enough to get close to be desired)

b) expressive intent of the author may never complete its mission in the first instance, the lack of sensitivity of the loved one or lack thereof, and for the climax of love, the delightful depersonalization of both participants, motivate the inherent limitation of a building so lucidly beautiful, as insufficient to contain the time trying to rescue: I have decided


dementia weaving in my condor feathers
snowy ... without you ... I prefer to fill my plate

to overdose ...
vessels (spider bipolar)


Meanwhile let us go up to the stage and costumes
kiss while

shelters and its complex of millipedes ...

Meanwhile my love ... we are unknown


(Delirium II) sodium Nights



I tattoo while I do the sleeping.
Sometimes I think you hate me, and transmits a gesture
eschatological
from the brothel where you live

(De Retour)



c) Assurance (failure stems from the above poem, which serve as food to the reader, repeated the dialectic implicitly deny everything that he read, however, this results in persistence of being, the dialectical progress, save the world)


The poet has made word, poem, dragonfly in flight, seeking to express the permanent failure fully cherish the beloved, she already discussed in verses offering food, healing, in the eyes of the reader (also their own so therefore) that by participating in the work, to transform spoken words all virtual elements that led to the disputes, but inside the reader, the seeds of life that the author placed in his works, germinate, and construct a particular world perspective on where they now have feelings, memories and experiences which previously lacked: the dark dragonfly, from the shadowy regions of suffering, has offered up made light, wanting to reach the moon, to illuminate the world, and make clear that it was completely different to what I always, from one moment to another it was thought.

Die! ... Rhinoceros

my end my pain I'm happy

ant.

(De spiders bipolar)




... Someone smiles at me while I expand my legs


like a book ... ... The staff digested the last heat ...
-silence becomes you, "
(Of Do-re-mi)


And me?
also necrotic
animals hanging from a tree ...
spelling sheltered bodies

lyrics ... I'm not yours
these nipples contain mana lumólogo
to my crotch ...
uncorrupted
for latent launches poetry ... your branches are

perennial autumn and I fulfill all seasons
bloom!

(De not ego, is tired)


am born
always love (factory default) and a woman
ecstatic of cobwebs ...
again be your monster under the bed
recognize my poetry inevitably esoteric
and forestry nothing ever will be.
Nothing, when I was everything! You'll still fearing

moistened my skin beats
snobbery ... there elixir for my bad
die and I am born
made love ... And I kill myself as well ... Because while the fingers

spill our outbursts
I am ... I'm loving
podridamente

(too much)




Everything and nothing, negation of negation: love.

Bellrham Dina's poetry is ultimately a sacrifice of love, tortuous, plaintiff and all, a gift motivated only by the noise to be loved, be loved by the silence, we returned redeeming gift from the poet, who becomes old when he writes, giving their lives in the sap of the pendulum, to return the silence that has never failed to express the emptiness of a world defenseless, but now, touched by this issue of the dragonfly ecstasy, is a silence grateful for having been able to enjoy a little time, if the fertile radiant and fleeting sound, light.


The numen of yesterday has left seeds
his secret is mine ... we are lovers and enemies
...
(De Epistle poetic prose-)


Not that I love. Not conceive the idea that I love.
I who am dragonfly storing tree branches.
I love.

(From Letter to Doctor)



Site
poet Dina Bellrham:
http://bellrham.blogspot.com/

Milena Velda Nadine Jansen

Big Changes Coming Home



Reaching
House

're always in action but you also

some day you shall rest and at that time will be near you


entire existence

be near you and you will be very close
yourself and know


at this very moment you come home

Aflac Maternity For Men

dimensions in light of Hell VI-La Gula

For
Ademir Jesus Morales Rojas


With reference to Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy, Inferno, Canto VI.

"I am in the third circle, in the rain eternal, accursed, cold and dense, it also always falls heavy and with the same force. Thick hail, snow and dark water overflowing descend through the darkness, the land upon receipt exhales a pestilential smell. "

Ultimately, what is punished in hell just this area, is being very hungry. Infected water hailstones given to the earth to satisfy their craving and infinite are again raised to the sky by the heat of the flames, but may not allude to the sterile attempt to be more even, the desire to satisfy unredeemed coast of what is, that fool appetite breaths and exhalations, which ultimately hopelessly lost, wandering in the wind. ***



"Cerberus, cruel and monstrous beast, with its three jaws barking dog against offenders who are there submerged."

And these sad beings, however suffer the torment practiced by the dreaded demon, have the bittersweet comfort of knowing that, with three enormous mouths and eager, the hunger of hell Can always going to be more unbearable, and pressing, that his own anxiety of being redeemed. ***



"has red eyes, black hair and stubby, wide belly and legs trimmed with nail nails in esíritus, they tear the skin and butchers. The rain makes them howl like dogs. "

Therefore, torture imposed for the Wolverines might be, to contemplate her most secret desires, devilishly embodied in the Beast: a creature who in their greed has wantonly transgresses all due respect , of all dignity. It is useless as a hunting dog howl, being at once the dam itself, like the hare enjoyed in painful agony, blowing greyhound. ***



"When we found out Cerberus, the great worm, opened their mouths, teaching tusks, all members were restless. Then my guide held out his hands, took earth, and threw handfuls into the hungry maw of the beast. And just as a dog barking breaks and subsides when it bites its prey, occupied only in devouring, so the demon Cerberus closed its impure mouths ... "

do not think that Dante in this passage, he wanted to express his personal vision of death itself, presenting it as an infinite yearning, blind and voracious also symbolized the deadly beast, the transcript of great worm of the tombs themselves consumed doggedly and desperately, to engulf the earth itself that favorable. ***



"- Who are you, so sad that place has been taken, and sentenced to a punishment, that if there is no greater, certainly not so bad?
"Your city (Florence) ... I saw you in her womb ... the inhabitants of that city, I called Ciacco. For the reprehensible sin of gluttony, I am as you see, suffering is rain. I'm not the only sad soul here, all others are doomed to the same penalty for the same cause. "

Ciacco-which means" pig "- was a buffoon who took pains always make the others laugh with his witty conversation, but was both very man given to appetite. Ciacco Unfortunate! serving society gossip for the fierce Florence, while living, then dead, feeding the frenzy of punishment of the demons in the underworld.
... when the personal nature than the very existence ...
***


the poor Dante expresses his martyrdom Ciacco moves him greatly, but then asks him about the political future of Florence. We may have finally discovered, which bears the soul of Dante earned his immortality, because the large jaws of Cerberus always have room for unrestrained voracious omens, and the bite is more sharp, the more you meet the (unwanted and confessed) dire predictions. ***



"But when you get to the sweet world, I beg you to do because it renewed my memory."

Because then maybe, just sweet world evoked is the only accessible and truly authentic: the world memories, nostalgia ephemeral, that very time to think them, and succeeded, and where possible to perceive only fleetingly, as well as Giorgio Colli said, the immediacy of representations of things that touch us, the essence of life, imperfectly captured in this myriad of nostalgia. World
wistful shadow of a past more fully, that of the living, the same thirst that you have the inhabitants of Dante's Inferno. Hungry for satisfaction of belonging that is never made, nor even perhaps in the silence that fills the very absence of being. ***


"... each one will then find his dismal tomb, will regain its steaks and figure, and hear the trial that should resonate for all eternity."

... back to taste the food that we know harmful, but is irresistible, the more we approach the moment when it is too late to stop ...



*** "The more perfect a thing the greater good or experiencing pain. Although this accursed race should never reach true perfection, after the trial is expected to be more perfect than now. "

Well, it is possible that the trial has already taken place without us even noticed it, because the perfection achieved by our pain and bitterness, digestive fateful moment's rest for no return, that is coming, we saturated the senses entirely satisfied and the soul numb ... Hallelujah!

Ademir
Copyright © Jesús Morales Rojas. All rights reserved.

Image taken from:
http://altreligion.about.com/library/graphics/inferno6.jpg

Are Your Cervix High Up Just Before Your Period

Hans-Georg Gadamer: Texts on language and the world. Extropy

"Language is a means rather than the consciousness used to communicate with the world. There is a third instrument next to the sign and tool-also belong to the essential definition of man. The language is not a means or a tool. Because essentially means that master tool use, ie take in hand and once we have run their service. Not so when we take into the mouth the words of a language and let them after use in the general vocabulary at our disposal. That analogy is wrong because we never met before the world as an awareness that in a state-language, use the tool of consensus. The knowledge of ourselves and the world always involves language, our own. We grow, we know the world, we know the people and ultimately ourselves as we learn to talk. Learning to speak does not mean using an existing instrument to classify the family and known world, but means the acquisition of familiarity and knowledge of the world itself as we encounter.

process is enigmatic and deeply hidden. It is a true child prodigy who pronounce a word, a first word [...]. The truth is that we are so intimately embedded in the language and the world [...] In all our thinking and knowing, we are always already sustained by the linguistic interpretation of the world, whose assimilation is called growth, aging. In this sense language is the true mark of our finitude. We are always exceeded. Individual conscience is not the criterion to gauge their being. There is certainly no individual consciousness in which there is the language she speaks. How then there is language? It is true that there is no individual consciousness, but there is not merely a synthesis of many individual consciousnesses.

No individual, when he speaks, has a true awareness of language. There are exceptional situations where the memory is a word which we rely, that sounds strange or ridiculous and makes you ask: 'would you say that?'. There emerges for a moment the language we speak, for not doing theirs. What then is your thing? I think three elements must be distinguished here.

The first self-forgetfulness is the key that corresponds to the language. Its own structure, grammar, syntax, etc. All that thematized science, is unconscious to the living language [...] A second essential feature of being of language is, in my view, the absence of self. He who speaks a language that no one understands, in fact not talking. Talk is talk to someone. The word word is to be relevant, but this does not mean that I only represent myself as such, but do see the speaker. [...] In this connection see the third element I would call the universality of language . This is no speakable closed area that overlap other areas of the unspeakable, but that envelops everything. Nothing can escape act radically to 'say', because the reference alludes to something simple. The ability of speech progresses relentlessly with the universality of reason. So dialogue has always internal infinity and never ends. The dialogue is interrupted, either because partners have said enough or because there is nothing more to say. But this interruption keeps an internal reference to the resumption of dialogue. " [Man and Language (1965). VM, II, 147-151].

"This confirms what comprobábamos together before: in language itself represents the world. Linguistic experience of the world is "absolute." It goes beyond all relativity of 'put' to be, because it embraces all being in itself, is shown in relations (relative) is shown. Linguisticity of our experience of the world precedes all that can be recognized and interpreted as being. The fundamental relationship of language and world does not mean therefore that the world is made the subject of language. What is the object of knowledge and their statements on the other hand is always covered by the horizon of the world of language. Linguistics in the world of human experience does not entail the objectification of the world [...].

the world and is linguistically manifested itself or not is relative in the sense that they can be objects of science. Itself is not as utterly devoid of character object, and as that can never be given in experience for its ability to be an all encompassing. However, as the world is not can be regarded as a particular language. Well living in a world language, as is done when it is in a language community, it means being committed to an environment as are the animals in their life worlds. No one may want to look down the linguistic world as described before, since there is no place outside the linguistic experience of the world from which it could itself become the object [...]. Have language means just to have a way of being completely different from the relationship of animals to their environment. When men learn foreign languages \u200b\u200bdo not alter their relationship with the world as you would an aquatic animal that became Earth, but retain their own relationship with the world and extend and enrich the foreign language worlds. The language has 'has' world.

If we retain this, we can no longer confuse the objectivity of language with the objectivity of science. The distance inherent in the linguistic relationship with the world does not provide for itself and as such that other kind of objectivity that science produced by eliminating the subjective elements of knowledge "(VM, 539-543).

" Nobody deny that our language has an influence on our thinking. We think with words. Thinking means to think something. And think of something mean to say something. In this sense Plato knew perfectly the essence of thought when it defined as the internal dialogue of the soul with itself, a dialogue that transcended is a constant, self-reflection on one's judgments and opinions, in an attitude of doubt and objection. And if anything characterizes the thinking is precisely this endless dialogue with himself that never leads to anything permanent. This sets us apart from the ideal of an infinite spirit for which all that is true and everything appears in a single intuition. It is our linguistic experience, the inclusion in this internal dialogue with ourselves, which is both early dialogue with others and the input of others in dialogue with us, which opens and orders the world in all areas of experience. But this means we have no other way of order and orientation that has led from the data of experience to the schemes we know as the general concept or as the respective case makes his particular example [...].

What happens to us in language, it happens also in our own vital guidance, we are familiar with a harness and conventional world. The question is whether come so far in our own self-understanding as we get sometimes in those rare cases just described, where someone actually says what he means. But does that mean to go so far to understand what really is? Both, the full understanding and proper that are limiting cases of our orientation in the world, our endless dialogue with ourselves. And I think however that just because the dialogue is endless, because this objective guidance we are offered in shapes of the speech patterns constantly enters the spontaneous process of our understanding with others and with ourselves, all open to us and the infinity of what we understand, of what we can do spiritually. There is no border for dialogue the soul with itself. Such is the thesis that I am opposed to the suspicion of ideology thrown against the language.

is, therefore, the claim of universality of language that I will defend with reasons. We turn everything into language and we can try to agree on everything. It is true that we remain locked in the finitude of our own power and ability and that only an infinite dialogue could fully satisfy the claim. But that is obvious. The question is rather: is there a number of objections against the universality of our experience of the world mediated by language? Here is the thesis of the relativity of all worldviews linguistic thesis that Americans drawn from Humboldt and rich heritage with new reflections on empirical research, that the languages \u200b\u200bare ways of seeing and understanding the world, so it is impossible to get out of the respective world view, which involve the individual schemes. Nietzsche's aphorisms on the 'will to power' and include the observation that the real creative work of God is to have produced the grammar, ie installed us in these schemes of our domination of the world but we can not evade them " [To what extent the language preform thought? (1973), VM, II, 195-197].


Texts taken from (the excellent) Page
http://www.uma.es/gadamer/

Image taken from:
http://philosophy.tamu.edu/ ~ sdaniel/Images/gadamer3.jpg

Rotronic 12.02.1086driver

Women Amar


Legend has it that at the beginning of the world, when God decided to create woman, he found that he had exhausted all solid materials in man and did not have more than that. Faced with this dilemma and after deep thought, did this: Volume

the roundness of the moon;
the smooth curves of the waves, the tender
accession of the vine,
the tremulous movement of the leaves,
the slenderness of the palm,
delicate tint of flowers, the
loving gaze of deer,
the joy of the sun,
and drops of tears of the clouds,
the fickleness of the wind
and fidelity of the dog,
the timidity of the turtle
and vanity of the peacock,
the softness of the feather of a swan
and hardness of diamond,
the sweetness of the dove
and cruelty of the tiger, burning

fire and the coldness of snow.

uneven mix as ingredients, I am a woman and gave it to man.

After a week, came the man and said: "Sir, the creature that gave me makes me unhappy, wants all my attention, I never left alone, talk incessantly crying for no reason, seems to be diverted to make me suffer I come to give it back because I can not live with it! "

Well, God answered and took the woman. Step

other week, the man returned and said, "Lord, I am very lonely since I returned to the creature you did to me ";

she sang and played with me,
looked at me with tenderness, and his look was a caress,
laughed and her laughter was music
was beautiful to look at and soft to the touch.
cared for and protected me when I needed it, gave me
sweetness, tenderness,
understanding and unconditional love,

please God, give it back because I can not live without it!

1 Week To Period Cervix

1.0: The small town of Lost Time



For Ademir Jesus Morales Rojas

"DANGER: BIOCHEMICAL TEST AREA" So said the sign
dirty rotten just outside this western town, where presumably the remains were located Alamut Library craved by Michio Koki. The spinner hid his cyborg in a hole it charged from the desert sand, and covered with scrub dispersed. Koki was close then to the edges of the huge crater. The village was right in the middle of that huge hole, whimsically defined in its circularity. Fell up there with certain jobs. As he did, he saw in the distance a lot of people immersed in its provincial daily activity. But as we descended, the atmosphere was becoming stale and cloudy. Yet people were there, as if nothing in the streets and peering through the windows of the houses. When he stepped Koki finally silent town, something snapped under the weight of its industrial boot. He looked at his feet there lay a white dove to pieces by their tread. How had Was that possible?
then studied back to local people: in the crowd focused on a girl chasing a dog, some ladies with shopping bags in her arms and smiling with each other, a severe police directing traffic too quiet ...
Koki is realized that all the inhabitants of the town were visible petrified, as if they had been frozen at some point of time. Then wandered, through the streets eerie calm of that site. What had happened there would seem to have caught these people, as if they had been fixed in that limbo unthinkable, without realizing it, while taking care of their most common activities. It was a small glass world, sad and extraordinary. When Koki returned to the place where lay the broken body of the dove, bowed and took his hands soft and white head, whose only black eye and sore eyes seemed to focus their Koki Michio blind, with sore reproach. Powered by a sudden tenderness, kissed the tiny feathered head. It was then that smelled liquid nitrogen, and awe, I understood everything.
Shocked and disgusted by the unfortunate fate that had suffered grotesque that community "guinea pigs", Koki was admitted again at the small maze of low buildings eroded by wind and sand. Suddenly, right in the center of town, inside a dark building in ruins, he heard whispers. Penetrated into the mysterious and half-empty field, someone was there, facing into the corner formed by walls damaged in one corner of the cabin with dirt dirt and scattered. This person will anxiously looked out a crack in the wall askew, as if trying desperately to look through it, looking for something urgently. Koki intrigued came and put his trembling hand on his shoulder, he wanted to talk. When the person turned to him, Koki beheld the most beautiful woman I ever encountered in her life, more even than his Cinthya; splendid
yet ragged and a clear lack of cleanliness. She told him, sighing and hawing, that between the crack could be a hover to a world of:
-beautiful and strange structures, plasma lavender skies, tree, forming forests intelligent robots, androids siren violet eyes and statuesque figure, hypnotic machines of desire ... New ways to reach the force field extrópica ... bright spots above the horizon, like jewels of light. Blue haired girls nude swimming with dolphins, diving to see coral, young walkers lush fresh moss and plants in the flooded valley ... ... Unknown planets, nebulae, supernovae, high moon, forest elves, unicorns and narwhals ... * Michio
Koki was filled with a deep sympathy for this young enigmatic, as pretty as a princess, as crazy as dementia itself.
During an amazing second, seeing her so focused and happy in their activity, Koki felt the curiosity to look out the crack, but then shook his head cyborg confused, upset with his own sanity wavering, and forced to leave the building and away from its cloistered inhabitants, excited in its recess. An atmosphere of hallucination, crippling nightmare, oppressing Koki, fancy being in that place: the dull heat of the sun on the very top, the dry wind howling chimeras whisperer, crystal statues to be seen everywhere in capricious positions, as participants in a fantastic dance, and above all the sounds of joy and wonder of the young madman in building demolished. Michio
Koki was poisoned by all this unreality, the physical world began to crumble before his senses altered, took his fists to his temples, furrowing his hard face, repeated his name and Cinthya, that of Andrew and the Lain; several times to definitely not fall into the abyss of no return delirium, struggling to regain his reason exceeded. At that moment he was lifted in the air, before that it was discussed, random violence, but the brutal embrace was so tight that Koki started to see blurry, was drowned. He could see before him a bald albino woman, immensely fat, naked and with an anti-gas mask placed on the chubby face. Another was the same woman who suffocated almost to exhaustion, Koki also said a man with no arms, no legs, his face with Asian features, and as the maimed body, covered in full of piercings and tattoos, was adorned also a plume of feathers and legs Runner scorpion. Shouted single words in Esperanto jaws flapping grotesquely, and rocked his insignificant figure on a high wooden wagon and bone, loaded with hundreds of green-phosphorescent fungi. As if obeying an order of man, one of the women took a huge handful of mushrooms and intentionally squeezed on the face of Koki. There
real nightmare began. ***
Koki
For days he had been forced to accompany the giant albino women in the task of pulling the cart of the man without limbs. Stoned on regular doses of phosphorescent fungi established by the petty tyrant, the three "beasts" load placed on the genitals accessed a complicated electrodes with thin wires of various colors were driven and connected with the jaws of man and thence to a small backpack this always carried on his shoulders trivial, in this way could be controlled at will, through the gestures of his boyish face and force painful and powerful bursts of energy, determination of the three women and Michio Koki.
The three slaves were naked under the harsh sun, and ran tirelessly Chinese truck carrying the "cage"-like Koki bitterly baptized him in his profound and lucid be captured on the surface, spinning furiously around the crater, and the small town of Lost Time, in the center. Iban always in the direction of clockwise, and Koki still drugged, because he knew well the Chinese available: what little tyrant was looking as though he were a pathetic metaphysical hero, the time to revive the defunct of the people, give new life to the second run through the winding speed of his monstrous carriage, as if it were the impossible feat of hallucinatory minute of a huge circular clock-the crater itself that enveloped the town of Crystal, in his eternal immobility.
During the day turns tiresome, electric shock and rate of fungi. Koki
At night, in the house of bones and feathers of the Chinese Runner "sack", located in the garden of phosphorescent fungi on one side of the crater, took care of the hygiene of their small tormentor, and to satisfy the voracious sexual appetites, women whale, since both obese erotic experiments liked to practice together and utilizing the required Koki, again and again, until the cyborg moaned in pain exhausted and suffocated under the weight of those flabby and whitish bodies, full of vague lunar tone. Koki
wished death to the brutal and extreme bondage.
One night, he waited a long time, seeing a strange cluster of black clouds filled the night sky, and with the unmistakable smell of liquid nitrogen, which reached him from the heights dilated, Koki finally learned that their time had come: the genetically altered climate by obscure and unknown militia would soon be making mischief in that ravaged land. Koki
wasted no more time, even drooling and his eyes half closed his state of consciousness stimulated the edge, sidled up to the female whale and forced slept with unprecedented speed and desperate to eat handfuls of mushrooms, metiéndoselos in mouths, unprotected without gas masks masks who retired to sleep. The pig squeals and women fighting momentum was not enough to defeat a desperate Koki and ready for anything. The yoked to the carriage when the drug calmed somewhat. Then take the little Chinese maimed in their distress wanted to bite, so unceremoniously threw Koki and head to their place in the wagon.
Before starting it Koki, who had found his clothes stolen and hidden, and now wore, he drew from his pocket the head of the pigeon eye rotates with indignation. Threw it into the cart and bowing said in a guttural voice and spiteful to Chino "sack" that shook with fear:
"To accomplish what you propose, to you, the way is the opposite ... and giving two powerful
slaps in the giant gelatinous buttocks of women-horse, quivering same pain-pleasure, began a mad flight around the crater, opposite to the hands clock and the Chinese without limbs flailing helplessly at the reckless drive, and cursing in Esperanto with such agony in his tone of infant, which was heard long after the curve of the crater, hidden from view Koki.
The first drops of rain began to fall petrifying the black sky and chaotic. Koki, stumbling, ran to the ruined building in the center of town, the center of time lost from the small town with no name, just where he had met the beautiful young paradise peeked through the crack of a moldy wall. When he arrived there, the shack, looked inside in semi-darkness, lit only by flashes of lightning furious. It was empty, the "princess" was not lost over there. The singular crack in the wall, the crack into another world, seemed to acquire troubled eyes red from crying and Koki, the shape of a grin and unforgiving. Overwhelmed by the absence of the girl and the pain and humiliation suffered in the season in hell, Koki collapsed on the floor of the unoccupied room, and slammed his fists into the sandy soil. She sobbed bitterly.
then joined with rage and frenzy was to look out the crack. The storm raged outside, Koki, almost mad now, let go fist against the wall of the crack, that cracked painfully, and after several frantic curses accompanied impacts, finally collapsed. And weak knees now, looking out of the nightmare, beyond the crumbling wall, an unexpected extension of that building, Koki then read a metal sign with white lettering that read:
DEPOSIT SPECIAL LIBRARY Alamut
After laughing and mourn at the same time, a time that seemed finally rescued, Koki calmed down, shook the sand from his clothes, and regained full consciousness and control of his being, he sighed and admitted in Alamut.
Outside in the darkness, it was silence again.



* See extropy Chapter XV: The boundaries expand, Ayanami, tear the borders of Alterra, written by Cosmodelia: here was taken and adapted a passage from that work.

www.escritorium.com/extropia/3356/cosmodelia-/los-limites-se-dilatan-ayanami-se-rasgan-las-fronteras-de-alterra/

extropia.escritorium.com

Image Ives Tanguy's work courtesy of:
http://www.artdaily.com/Fotos/galerias/208/YvesTanguy.jpg

Hacking Mobile Broadband

The Satyr of Tarshish

For

Ademir Jesus Morales Rojas

I

Socrates and the young Hegesias Melito were commissioned by the Athens government to investigate a strange cult in the remote village of delicate political situation Athens Tarsis.La required that problems of this nature, fully affect the structure of the official religion, were met immediately, failing to motivate severe catastrophes distrusted government sociales.Pero bold philosopher Socrates, who still enjoys great popular support, it was very close to the sense of decisions power in turn, is why the beating was accompanied by Melito, a rival of Socrates in several of its proposals in the Council; his secret task was to keep track of any details of the actions of Socrates to resolve the conflict of Tarshish. Socrates for his part, had agreed to join this committee, worried and anxious to help his dear disciple Hegesias, promoting, for this purpose the integration of the young to the small group, so that through the implementation of the commission, to distract him from extreme pessimism, which interpreted the Socratic teaching as a dead end whose only acceptable resolution would be suicide. Soon arrived at the remote community, eerily isolated among stony hills and lonely.

II

Socrates immediately requested a meeting with representatives of the people of Tarshish, who appeared immediately, and even responded to each question and provided all information requested, in the eyes of the old sage, not escape a disguised attitude ladina.Los reported as inhabitants of Tarshish, as from a certain infamous night, several young pastors had been brutally attacked in the hills of this inexplicable cercanas.Luego initial attack befell many others, resulting in a large number of nubile victims killed and then eaten as a mysterious beast had traveled there, leaving a bloody trail. Relatives of the victims, were devoted whole weeks to hunt down the elusive animal, until finally a group of them came with the predator's lair. But instead of being able to exterminate the threat, all but one of them perished there. The survivors soon after, in his last moments he said certainly surprising that the hangman in question was a god, a real and impressive sátiro.Los terrified inhabitants of Tarshish in the bottom-most pleased by the extraordinary circumstances become your community, now As the center of a new sanctuary, a place where it was shown by the presence of the divine-as decided to worship, the abode of God: a dark cave at the top of a nearby mountain. Then they carried him out there raising a place of sacrifice, where periodically offered in ritual to a young man who honored and proud, he chose to be a pledge for the satyr divine.

III

Melito, arrogant, crass those pastors ordered to suspend its rituals and immediately closed down the shrine, and also demanded that they all stuck to the rules and practices established religion, since failure to do so would be executed by the Athenian troops. Loa people of Tarshish, with barely suppressed irritation began to mumble indirect threatening. Socrates mediator intervened there, and asked the villagers show him the commission, the abode of dios.Pero although they accepted it without qualms, a furious storm precluded such an inspection. Hurry to the next meeting of government, to be held the next day, the committee members decided to return ready to Athens, but nevertheless, as a result of this game required, Melito decided to leave in Tarsis, a delegate representative of Athenian government, to Hegesias, for waking the order there (Melito did this in order to remove him by all possible means of protection de Sócrates, para luego anexar inteligentemente, a su propia causa, a un joven tan prometedor). Sócrates, aún dubitativo, tuvo que secundar esta última resolución, pero antes de irse recomendó además, que se suspendieran todos los sacrificios definitivamente, y también los ritos, hasta que estos fueran observados y evaluados por otra comisión inspectora- para el filósofo, las muertes varías suscitadas recientemente en ese lugar, no eran obra más que de algún feroz jabalí, y así se lo hizo saber en privado a sus compañeros: Melito, concedió estar de acuerdo con él; Hegesias asintió en silencio, al escuchar la explicación de su sabio mentor.Antes de partir, Socrates spoke Hegesias apart, to urge it to evaluate this unique opportunity that presented itself to safeguard the moral law and official institutions, and also from this, the young man was able to find a foundation and guide for his troubled life: he struggled then perfected in his being and through reasoning, and constant self-examination, eradicate, his sickly melancolía.Hegesias assured him it would act to depart without worries, and to wait its next meeting with the study group sponsored by the old philosopher, as the Athenian government resolve how to act in Tarshish. Socrates even could see the distant farewell to his dear disciple, for a moment just before it was lost in the rough distance.

IV

Before the messenger to communicate the urgent announcement, Socrates sensed that something was wrong in Tarshish. And indeed, reporting from nearby villages to it that was compelling presence in the village of the sanctuary of the satyr, for there fan chaos had returned. Melito immediately summoned to the departure, he irritated, all the way Socrates reproached him with the grave situation and indirectly I blamed her. Deeply concerned about the fate of Hegesias, the old philosopher atención.Arribaron just put the village: it was almost empty, no sign of Hegesias. Socrates asked a paralyzed old man was lying about where they were all that was happening in Tarshish. The old man reported having ceremony at the shrine, carried out on the fly, to ingratiate himself with dismayed dios.Sócrates imperiously called Melito bring together military and neighboring towns that would lead to political urgentemente.El shrine called him proud angry, please do not give him orders, but to perceive a hint of anger in the face of Silenus of the old philosopher, decided not to risk more and hurried to make the request. Socrates immediately rose, heading for the cave divine. Once near her, heard ominous music and songs of praise. Sought a route between the harsh rocks closer to the place, thus avoiding further to the crowd. He looked out to see what was happening in the home of the satyr. Was stunned by what he saw then: in the place of sacrifice, a clear run at large and outside the cave, filled with human bones and an intolerable stench, just there, was naked and unbound Hegesias kneeling on the altar of rock and also invoked large-pitched voices, the presence of the satyr, prompting him to abandon the depths of the cave, pleading with sweet invitations and offerings completely twisted decidido.De Suddenly a shadow appeared in the doorway of the cave. Socrates was very disturbed when he beheld in all its fullness, in the light of many torches, the terrifying figure of the satyr of Tarshish. The god, the sight of Hegesias, his victim helpless and anxious, the mood was injected blood and rushed forward on it.The brutal young excited to see the full grotesque figure approaching, opened his arms to receive the executioner to the fullest. At that time Socrates rushed from his lofty hiding place, and surprising all the celebrants, sword appeared in the casualty clearing. The satyr dropped then Hegesias, who fell to the ground moaning and bone giving then curled a corner, waiting in expectation. The creature advanced to Sócrates furious roar. The philosopher then stepped back and lowered his sword, trying to be heard by the satyr. He said he had reviewed public records in Athens, which had been discovered there, his true identity and his tragedy: the satyr was only the deformed son of a sibyl belonging to Delphi and had retired to Tarshish at maturity, after have completed their work at the headquarters of the famous oracle. Socrates told the monstrous thing that no doubt their malformations were the result of unhealthy fumes of the oracle at Delphi, who had sucked his mother for the purpose of allowing flooding by the god, and thus be able to pronounce his enigmatic statements. The satyr was speechless to hear this, but did not cease to move towards the wise old man with claws raised. Socrates continued talking and he said he did not deserve any god exist to warrant the pain and death of people, and it was truly divine man, courageously facing all obscurities and limitations of such a condition. Finally invited him to take this opportunity because it is therefore reasonable to stop help guide to go beyond their physical obstacles. The sad be finally lowered his arms, appeased. Socrates sighed. But just then Hegesias, giving an angry shriek, rushed furiously on the satyr. This, again feel irritated because of this invitation to disaster, took the neck and began to shake Hegesias frantically. Socrates at this, decided and acted to the satyr was brandishing a sword. Suddenly the creature let go and faced Hegesias Socrates. Grabbed the gun, threw her down and put his knees bent over the chest. Then held up the sword, and without hesitation, it pierced his heart. The villagers were agitated angry, and they were about the lynching, when he arrived at Melito place with the troops, which quickly took control of the situation. Melito, looking at the shocking scene of Socrates, sitting up, Hegesias knees and the pathetic figure of the deformed body with gun in his chest, he understood everything and smiled slyly with an air of triumph. Hegesias while covering their nakedness, stuck in Socrates a look of infinite hatred, the old philosopher was confronted with a wave of unabashed piety. Hegesias Eventually, he looked down.

V

At Athens, Melito immediately accused Socrates of corrupting minors to the authorities of Athens, and exemplified as conclusive evidence of this, how to shore with its fallacies, to a young victim of fate, to a painful death by his own hand. Socrates after being tried, was convicted and sentenced to death. He defended the wise philosopher and philosophizing nobly served the sentence: he drank the hemlock without hesitation, and took leave of his dear disciples as he died, urged caution and reason, and chanting poems and Belleza.Melito Goodness after this Pyrrhic victory, ultimately, was discovered in shady and fraudulent political maneuvering and likewise was sentenced to morir.Nadie took to tell their final.Hegesias meanwhile lived a long time, and became infamous dragging hundreds youth suicide, thanks to his treatise "The art of dying of hunger." Alarmed the authorities banned the movement of this work, and suspended under threat of death penalty Hegesias of any attempt to exercise their radical enseñanza.Se that Hegesias then went to the abandoned Tarshish and took refuge in the sanctuary in ruins . Never heard of él.Este was the fatal destiny, the satyr of Tarshish.

Copyright ©

Ademir Jesus Morales Rojas. All rights reserved.

Image taken from:

http://www.tpaweb.org/images/socrates.jpg

Female Masturnation Statistics

Emil Cioran: Farewell to philosophy. Juan Jose Arreola

I moved away from the philosophy at the time that Kant made it impossible to discover any human weakness, no real sadness accent, or Kant or any of the other philosophers. Face the music, mysticism and poetry, from a philosophical activity decreased sap and a deep suspicion that bear no more prestige for the timid and tepid. On the other hand, philosophy-jitter impersonal refuge with anemic ideas-is the use of dodging corrupting the exuberance of life. More or less all philosophers have finished well: it is the ultimate argument against philosophy. The end of Socrates himself is nothing tragic is a misunderstanding to a teacher, and if Nietzsche was sunk as a poet and visionary, atoned for his ecstasies and not its reasoning.

can not avoid the existence with explanations, but you can not bear it, love it or hate it, adore or fear it, in this alternation of happiness and horror that expresses the rhythm of being, its fluctuations, its dissonances, its vehemence bitter or happy.

Who is not exposed, by surprise or by necessity, a confusion irrefutable, then who does not lift his hands in prayer to drop it even more empty then the answers of philosophy? It seems that his mission is to protect while the oversight of luck let us walk this side of the dislocations and leave us as we are forced to dive into it. And how could it be otherwise, when you see how few of the suffering of humanity have happened to his philosophy? The fruitful philosophical exercise is not only honorable. It is always with impunity philosopher: a trade without destination full of thoughts bulky neutral vacancies hours, hours refractory to the Old Testament, Shakespeare and Bach. And perhaps these thoughts have materialized on one page equivalent to a cry of Job, a terror of Macbeth or a cantata? The universe is not disputed, it is expressed. And philosophy does not express it. The real problems do not start after you have run or exhausted after the last chapter of a huge volume that puts the endpoint in a sign of abdication of the unknown, which are rooted all our moments, and with which we must fight because it is naturally more immediate, more important than daily bread. Here the philosopher leaves us: enemy of the disaster, is as sound as the reason and as wise as she. And we were in the company of an old plague, a poet versed in all delusions and a musician whose sublime transcends the sphere of the heart. We did not start to really live rather than at the end of philosophy, on its ruins, when we understand the terrible void, and it was useless to resort to it would not unto us for any assistance.

(Large systems are not at bottom that bright tautologies. What advantage is there to know that the nature of being is the "will to live" in the "idea", or the fantasy of God or the chemistry? Simple proliferation of words, subtle shifts of meaning. What is repels verbal hug and intimate experience does not reveal anything out of the privileged moment and inexpressible. On the other hand, the very being is nothing but a pretense of nothing.

defined only by despair. We need a formula, even take many, nothing more than to give justification to the spirit and a facade to nothing.

Neither the concept nor ecstasy are operational. When the music plunges us to the "intimacy" of being out again quickly to the surface: the effects of the illusion is dispelled and knowledge is declared void.

The things we touch and are so unlikely that we conceive as our senses and our reason we are only safe our verbal universe, easy-to pleasure, and inefficient. Being dumb and spirit charlatan. That is called learn .

The originality of the philosophers is reduced to inventing terms. As there are only three or four attitudes to the world-and little else or less as many ways to die, "the nuances that diversify and multiply only depend on the choice of words, devoid of any metaphysical scope. We

pleonastic engrossed in a world in which the questions and replies are equivalent.)


Quoted from the book "Breviary of rot" of the Romanian-French writer.

Cioran Image taken from:
http://www.matmatprof.it/filosofia_e_dintorni/galleria/cioran.jpg

Does Any Body Was Diognose Wth Adenocarcinoma?

: The Migala. Extropy

The Migala runs freely through the house, but my ability to horror does not decrease.

the day that Beatrice and I went into that filthy barracks of the street fair, I realized that was the most revolting vermin appalling that could happen in the destination. Worse than the contempt and pity shining in a clear eye soon.

few days later I returned to buy the Migala, and gave me some surprise acrobat reports about their customs and strange food.

Then I realized I was holding, once and for all, the total threat, with a high dose of horror that my mind could bear. I remember my step shaky, hesitant, when I go home feeling light and heavy weight of the spider, that weight which could be discounted, certainly, that of the wooden box that had, like two totally different weights: the innocent and the timber of impure and poisonous animal pulling me like a permanent ballast. Inside that box was the personal hell that installed in my house to destroy, to override the other, the massive inferno of men.

The memorable night in which I sent the Migala in my apartment and saw him run like a crab and hide under furniture, has been the beginning of a life beyond words. Since then, each of the moments at my disposal has been walked through the steps of the spider, which fills the house with his invisible presence.

All aspen night waiting for the deadly bite. Often wake up to the icy body, tense and motionless, because the dream has created for me, precisely, tickling over the spider on my skin, weight indefinable, its consistency entails. However, always rises. I'm alive and my soul is preparing vain and perfected.

Some days I think the Migala has disappeared, which has lost or has died. But I do nothing to check. I always leave that chance again put me in front of her, to leave the bathroom, or while you undress me to lie down in bed. Sometimes the silence of the night brings the echo of his footsteps, I've learned to listen, but I know that are imperceptible.

Many days find the food untouched I left the day before. When it disappears, do not know if it has devoured my gala or some other innocent house guest. I've also come to think that perhaps I am a victim of a hoax and that I am at the mercy of a false Migala. Perhaps the jester has deceived me, making me pay a high price for a nasty bug harmless.

But in reality it does not matter, because I've devoted to Migala with the certainty of my death postponed. At the most acute insomnia, when I get lost in conjecture and nothing calms me down, often visit the Migala. He walks

entangled around the room and awkwardly tries to climb the walls. He stops and lifts his head and moves the palps. Seems to sniff, agitated, an invisible partner. Then, trembling in my solitude, cornered by the little monster, I remember that once I dreamed of in his company Beatrice and impossible.


Text taken from:
http://bibliotecaignoria.blogspot.com/2007/04/juan-jos-arreola-la-mgala.html

Image taken from:
http://www.agseso .com/imagenes/arreola/arreola1.jpg

Sterno Fuel For Smores Maker

1.0: The Last Kiss of Venus.


For Ademir Jesus Morales Rojas.

Sandro Botticelli

ending for the third time his masterpiece, uncertainty still harassed him because of the unique circumstances of the delay in its full conclusion.
And yet, the original birth of Venus may not have been as enigmatic as the emergence of his personal version of this: nights ago had painted the body of the goddess snowy covered by the mantle of hours, and an inexplicably Sandro next day, when going to his work, after a night of restless dreams, was astounded to find full nudity exposed Cythera in the shell. Then one night later, I had forgotten this incident unprecedented gentle smile he had provided the beautiful face of the goddess, expressing great joy to give beauty to the world and the next day but that smile was not already in the work as a gesture of infinite sadness melancholy took their place firmly. Botticelli
knew very well what was the source of his hallucinations and restlessness: Simonetta Vespucci
favorite model of his paintings, who posed for Venus, and some of his Madonnas, was about to marry Julian de Medici.
This will have long been immersed in an intolerable depression: not eating, not fully rested in his sleep. His love was consumed in silence, we exhausted the will to live and create, how much it had cost to portray his thoughts lady next to the hated rival, Julian, in the play, "Venus and Mars"! Everyone worshiped the Medici, his wealth had given them the power and the government of Florence, and yet to Botticelli, though protected from the same family all that flow of goods would have undoubtedly changed by a loving caress of the young beauty Florence. Today
carried out a desperate attempt, he would confess his love to Simonetta, in a quote she had given her at midnight, in the solitude of the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore. He looked back
his magnum opus, the enigmatic and surprising sadness of Venus rising, the pain of that beautiful face and overwhelmed that did nothing but confuse you more, closed the doors of his workshop and came out to walk the crowded streets of Florence.

On the way met his teacher, the wise elder Marsilio Ficino. He said the strange events that had been experimenting with his painting, he mentioned in passing technicalities related to the model, Simonetta, though Ficino said here certain tremors in his voice, the Neoplatonic philosopher made no comment, but only looked at at him and advised him
-Be wary of this reality we live in, everything is a dream that in any time may be split, seeking truth beyond the ordinary and rather than find it, you'll find yourself in it: the simple materiality, the Academic and yours and have taught us that only one step up to the universe absolute beauty, the supreme good, the One ... your artistry is only an indication of the route, not the route itself, is imperfect and variable ...
But the top of the old philosopher understood and had no place in the tormented soul of Botticelli, but nodded in silence and pretend to be attentive, Simonetta background, beautiful, pervaded his whole being, painfully.
The teacher then dismissed politely who in turn looked at him in an uncertain, as if divining the hidden truth of the heart of the young artist. This, however, preferred to go for his confessor who put all their trust, the monk Savoranola.
That night, amid the silence and shadows of the empty interior of the cathedral, where Sandro was able to enter through the intercession of Friar Savoranola, at that time of enormous influence in all spheres of life in Florence, Botticelli pondering contemplating perfection unattended the dome, Brunelleschi creation. He did not expect much when he sneaked Simonetta Vespucci, accompanied by a lady of confidence. The young woman separated from her companion and went to Sandro amicably, with the confidence of years of modeling for him, and thoroughly evaluate the high sensitivity and talent of the fine artist. But Botticelli, hesitantly at first, soon took courage, and he took his admiration without measures with a tender passion that touched the heart of the beautiful blonde.
- So many times I tried to reach you with my painting, to touch, to feel!, And yet the easel, canvas and brushes were a barrier hateful to me, now do to one side, away definitely looks : Now I say this with truth clinging to my words: when he painted the light of Venus thought of your light, and while searching the mystery of divine beauty, not pursuing some ideal, but the secret of your own heart.
She Simonetta, listened flushed, bent the face full of emotion, but suddenly as if something pushed her, as if another person took possession of his being, I take the thin face of the young artist in his white hands and said voice surprisingly severe: "Nothing I can do
friend, to change the path of fate, this fate, but if you persevere and so I died a hundred times a hundred times and look for me, and if I still remain in the distance, and you call me , then I will respond, and you'd know my voice heard. This will be our sweet little secret. And
staring between the caressing shadows of Santa Maria del Fiore, broken only by the soft light of candles, she approached her short red mouth of Sandro, who passionately kissed the face of the Venus which I never felt so heavenly.
But suddenly, on hearing the sound of footsteps nearby, she broke a start, and looking sadly for the last time Botticelli, walked quickly with her companion to leave the cathedral.
Sandro knelt down and extended a trembling arm had left was where the future consort of Giuliano de Medici, as emulating his own creative act to try to fix Absences have life, real life.
suddenly rose, and as having taken a resolution unchanged, it was decided to go after her. Almost at the exit of the imposing church, he took a clean sweep over the tall silhouettes of two masked men, one of whom spoke with indignant voice:
- So bite the hand that feeds you, but foul and ungrateful!
And to the amazement of Botticelli, the screaming man was discovered, showing the angry face of Giuliano de Medici.
"The Medici You in the street, we pay your education, and buy your trash, miserable" tonelito "and thus tarnishing corresponds promised me with your effeminate hands, with costs now! Bug On Guard!
and drew his long rapier, the other figure, still hidden in his coat sarcastically chuckled when he saw the challenge of Sandro Juliano, stepped back taking a hand to his mouth, saying, unintentionally, a great fear.
- I said he drew! As a man dies, not the dog you are ...
But Sandro only encouraged him draw his own half of sprat, as thin and as purely ornamental, with her delicate hands of a sublime artist. Then he began to tremble with fear and tears came thick curtains in your clear face. Noticing such
helplessness, Juliano de Medici, made a gesture of disdain, Botticelli pushed his gun and shot through the shoulder cleanly.
The painter fell back, giving a sharp cry of pain with her thin voice.
- Bah, Girolamo finish it! Then Juliano
hurried out of the Cathedral alone. Botticelli
collapsed and bleeding, stopped her crying and still holding his wounded shoulder was plunged into the deepest and disappointed surprise to see the face of Savoranola Fraile, beloved confidante, his spiritual mentor, the person who took his layer, discovered, ready to order Juliano. Savoranola
an insidious smile bestial in his face, he drew from his robe a long knife and approached the fallen.
"This is for not obeying my instructions to save your soul, you should have stopped painting pagan heresies, the world's end is approaching and you have to purify it ... now you'll see as I start to do so.
Botticelli, already weak from loss of blood, muttered bitterly
- ... You traitor!
Savoranola who had taken the clothes and the helpless painter and raised his dagger harsh to finalize its mission, stopped short, and giving a laugh, two steps away and shouted sarcastically sour Botticelli:
- Traitor? How can you ask for trust and security to another, when you yourself can not even exigírtela your own person? Bug sinner Who are you?
And then threw the knife down, then stared a long time to Botticelli, with a maniacal grin and frightening.
And then ... He took both hands to his mouth and holding the jaws open with unthinkable force, brutal, suddenly sounded as if something was torn, her skin was ... and then followed mousy shrieking and contorted opening jaws and continued further, until it tore the flesh and his heart seemed to turn outward as he peels a fruit. Botticelli
looked stunned, hallucinated, biting both fists seized with a terror of death, and unexpectedly inside listening to the echo the words of his teacher, the philosopher Marsilio Ficino:
, "Do not trust this reality we live in, everything is a dream that any time can be fragmented ... "Soon the grotesque figure
collapsed from a massive pool of blood and its smoldering remains were liquefied quickly to form a crumbly substance. Botticelli
unable to move, almost without feeling the pain of his serious injury because of shock, watched as the liquid, which possesses a particular consciousness, crawled toward the base of a monument of marble and accumulated there in silence. Then began a sucking sound, and brilliant and foul excrescence was absorbed little by little at the base of the monument. Sandro
Then, maddened, on the verge of collapse, watched as the statue base was supported by the thirsty, the giant representation of a huge and athletic David, work of a famous young artist known as Michelangelo Buonarroti, the titanic figure of four meters pure marble, opened his eyes and went to him aching with unmistakable intent.
While David went down from its base with incredible agility, and emitting a sound as if his stone chest was full of bees, Botticelli was foaming from the mouth Simonetta while thinking and his words:
"If you persevere and so I died a hundred times a hundred times and look for me, and if I still remain in the distance, and you call me, then I will respond, and you'd know my voice heard .
the David of Michelangelo, already coming toward him, the alacrity with which he pursues a vermin to crush ...
Botticelli, looked down and mumbled
-Simonetta, Venus ...
Without wanting observed: the David was on him, his mole maddening, overwhelming, his face contorted with hatred and fury ...
closed his eyes. Again
Ficino.
"seek the truth more beyond the ordinary and rather than find it, you'll find yourself in it. "... Cinthya
-Simonetta. Koki Michio
Then he opened his eyes and jumped up and prevented it colossal hand crashed on the beautiful tile floor of the cathedral. His clothes were no longer those of a Renaissance painter, his girdle hung a useless and no spit, his long dark coat pulled out his special weapon for use by Blade Runner, and she fired several stalking charges against the Titan. Powerful legs
marble crumbled in many rock fragments, with the impact of expansive shots, but David dropped the monster threw a slap Koki against the wooden benches and many church property, with such force that suddenly it was all a shower of debris, chips, and smoke. The candle fell to the ground and the building and its contents caught fire. The torso of David, he crawled on the floor like a grotesquely before escaped from his circle to Dante and his huge arms began to drop Michio furious fists against Koki, who imprisoned and half buried in the rubble was unable to do anything but shoot did the monster murderer. The cyborg body Koki could hardly resist the devastating impact it smashed into the ground with extreme violence. Still
fought bravely, and pointing his weapon with little strength she had, gave a final burst against the head of David, that releasing a high-pitched hum, rumble collapsed completely between rock and clouds of smoke.
Exhausted and dying, and feeling the heat from the flames that were coming slowly, Koki, Cinthya thought in his parents, Andrew and Lain ... Almost without forces
looked cloudy when the figure of the old philosopher Marsilio Ficino, was inclined to help. Koki
was left to do: Ficino helped him sit up, and both left the Cathedral in flames.
I took half of the square, away from the crowd of officials and volunteers who came to quell the blaze.
- Who are you?
"Here I am known as Marsilio Ficino, the philosopher, translator of Plato, master artists," replied the old man, but his voice changed as he did this time Simonetta, when added, but I'm not even human, my name is Moquei and I am a CAD (Autonomous Awareness Data) are several in the accumulation of which we form, which also command, and we come here, to the virtual region Wilber, going to call our friends in the Orpheus Group. A traveler famous of them, a man called Tochiro Shatov consciousness, spoke well of you, and before the unknown on their way to the limits of being, looking for lost consciousness Ayanami, his daughter, asked us supporting you in your battle against Apocalypse generated by AI Plus.
Koki, barely conscious, said: "He was Savoranola
, right?
"If it was his costume in this alternative virtual physical world of infinite number; IA Plus you save a lot of fear, you know you can destroy their plans for total control over the physical universe and the virtual world that is why seeks to annihilate you and your loved ones, he caused the disaster-Moon Phase Space Center and your partner clones stored there.
Listen, we know that the end is coming, the physical and virtual realities are on the verge of collapse, but this is inevitable merger possible to avoid further hardship for many individuals as possible, the project Nexus: it is necessary to carry it out, my group of CADS think so, but not others, and are on the side of AI Plus. The CADS allies
IA Plus try to protect the secret of caring for the exact location of the project Schelley, one of the stills comatose, one source of virtual reality under their control, the other is Ayanami, the daughter of Shatov is why the Orfeo Group, which helps to prevent falls into the hands of the hosts of AI Plus.
After placing it safely to your friends, Cronian Space Center, the Library brought you to Alamut, which was only known whereabouts of Hassan-i-Sabbah, did you get the secret and now you're there in that big place, connected to software relating to this period, which for personal reasons, decided to visit, to see the work of Botticelli, and I think which to approach this consciousness called Cinthya in the figure Simonetta-Koki shook. "To know you were here my partner Mima, she was the Lady Simonetta, and I Morquei as Ficino, introduced us to this alternative version of the Italian Renaissance to contact you and help you get out of here unscathed.
-old do not understand, I'm dying.
"If in fact you Koki die here in this area alternative but wake up in the physical universe, and you shall go through from the moment you put it safely to your friends and leads you to Hassan-i-Sabbah and Alamut bilblioteca. Physical reality begins to vice, it is possible to alter it somewhat, and we now proceed again but knowing your inquiries and that you have our continued support and the Orpheus Group.
- Cinthya What? "Koki asked yet reached its last breath.
"You'll have to keep looking even more than a hundred times maybe.
When the walls of the cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore collapsed in flames just then Michio Koki, died. Marsilio Ficino
then took the faded Botticelli and took him home, where his wounds and after a few days the young man returned to his studio.
Authorities in Florence, the Medici, alarmed by the disaster, tried to keep secret any details, and blamed everything on Savoranola, sought to arrest him, but since the night of the fire and never knew it.
The government decided to spread the false rumor that had been burned at the stake and urgently ordered a game to re-build damaged buildings and monuments. Buonarroti
reluctantly agreed to redo his David, but did not grant allocated to the new Cathedral.
Soon it was as if nothing had happened.
One morning in which Botticelli had been busy burning their mythological works, religious fear overwhelmed by the terrible event as he was wounded by the dagger of Luciano de Medici, it seems he vanished and no longer sought to remember anything else, his soul saturated with terror by the imminent end of the world was announced in the incendio.-one morning then knocked on his door.
was a messenger boy, telling him that his master looked Marsilio Ficino, who had been unable to locate to a guest who attended the funeral of Simonetta Vespucci, who remarried shortly before he died from tuberculosis. Sandro Botticelli
informed him the messenger who would deliver the note to his teacher. Closing the door ran drowned in tears at the feet of his work "The Birth of Venus."
He looked for a long time with a torch in his hand. Then turned the gun and touched the face of Cythera with the touch of a finger. Not destroy it for the world, even though already know, with a painful certainty, that his art could never achieve the elusive secret of her beauty, the treasure trove that could only ever had experience in the soft and ineffable Contact Venus last kiss.

Site collective science fiction novel "extropy"
http://www.escritorium.com/extropia/

image taken from Botticelli's work:
http://www.poster.net/botticelli-sandro/botticelli-sandro-die-geburt-der-venus -ausschnitt-1480-gepraegt-9978142.jpg

Want To Play With My Cock?

Juan Rulfo: Talpa


Talpa
By Juan Rulfo

Natalia moved into the arms of his mother and wept long there with a crying softly. It was a cry for many days endured, kept until now we return to Zenzontla and saw his mother and began to feel eager to comfort.
However, before, between the work of many difficult days, when we had to bury to Tanilo in a well in the land of Talpa, without anyone to help us, when she and I both alone together our forces and we started to dig the grave digging lumps with our hands, giving us soon hurry to hide Tanilo into the well and not scaring anyone anymore to continue with the smell of death-filled air, then cried.
not then return, when we came walking at night without knowing the quiet, groping as if asleep, and stamping with steps that seemed shots over the grave of Tanilo. At that time, Natalia seemed to bring the heart hardened and pressed not to feel it bubbling inside her. But his eyes did not leave any tears.
came to mourn far, leaning against his mother, only to distressed and knew that he was suffering, bereaved of way at all, because I felt the tears of it inside me as if wringing the cloth of our sins.
Because the thing is that Santos Tanilo between Natalia and I killed him. What we Talpa to die. And he died. We knew we would not endure such a long way, but even so, we take pushing between the two, thinking to kill it forever. That did it.


The idea of \u200b\u200bgoing out of my brother Talpa Tanilo. He first came up with anyone. For years he was asking for a ride. For years. From that day dawned with purple blisters spread over the arms and legs. When the blisters then become sores will not go out where no blood and there was a yellow thing as gum copal that distilled water is thick. Since then, I remember very well that told us how much fear was not having no remedy. I wanted to go see the Virgin of Talpa, so that she cured her gaze with his wounds. Although I knew that Talpa was away and we would have to walk a lot under the sun of day and the cold March night, nevertheless wanted to go. The Virgin would give the remedy for relief of those things never dried. She could do this: wash the things, put everything back in again as a field recently rained. And there in front of her, would stop their evil, nothing would hurt him again and hurt more. So he thought.
And we hold that Natalie and I to take it. I had to accompany Tanilo because it was my brother. Natalia would go well, anyway, because it was his wife. He had help taking him by the arm, weighing it on the way and perhaps turn over their shoulders, as he dragged his hope.
I knew beforehand what was inside Natalia. He knew something of it. He knew, for example, her legs round, hard and hot like rocks in the midday sun, were alone for some time. I already knew that. We had been together many times, but always in the shadow of Tanilo separated us, we felt that they got their hands calloused among us and took Natalie to follow him care. And it would always while he was alive.
I know now that Natalie is sorry for what happened. And so am I, but that does not save us from remorse or give us no peace as ever. You may not reassuring to know that Tanilo would have died anyway because he was playing, and that nothing was going to Talpa served, so there, so far, it is almost certain that she had died there as here, or maybe little bit later here than there, because everything was mortified by the way, the more blood lost, and the courage and all, all those things together were what killed him sooner. The bad news is that Natalie and I took him to push, when he no longer wanted to go, when he felt it was useless to continue and asked us what we returned. A ground lug it got up to keep walking, saying that we could not go back.
"is now closer to Zenzontla Talpa." That we call him. But then Talpa was still far, beyond a few days.
What we wanted was to die. Not be amiss to say that that was what we wanted since before leaving Zenzontla and each of the nights we spent in the way of Talpa. It's something we can not understand now, but what we wanted then I remember very well.
I remember those nights. First we alumbrábamos with ocotes. After dark we let the fire ash and then Natalie and I looked for the shadow of something to hide from the light of heaven. So we arrimábamos to the solitude of the countryside, outside Tanilo eyes and disappeared into the night. And the loneliness that we pushed each other. I put her arms the body of Natasha and her choice that served him. I felt as if resting, he forgot many things and then left his body numb and plunged into a great relief.
always happened that the land on which we slept was hot. And the flesh of Natalia, the wife of my brother Tanilo, then warmed in the heat of the earth. After those two together burned hot and did so in a wake from sleep. Then my hands were behind her, came and went above and embers that it was her, first gently, but then clenched as if to squeeze the blood. So over and over again, night after night, until it was dawn and the cold wind blew out the light of our bodies. Natalia and I did that to one side of the path of Talpa, when we Tanilo to the Virgin relieve him.
Now everything has gone. Tanilo eased to live. You can no longer say anything work so great that he could scarcely live, having poisoned her body and filled with stagnant water inside of it out for every crack of your legs or arms. Some wounds this big, that opened slowly, very slowly, then let out a gush of air and spoiled thing that had us all scared.
But now he is dead the thing is otherwise. Now Natalie is crying for him, perhaps he see, from where all the great remorse that takes over your soul. She says she has felt Tanilo face these last days. That was all that served him for it, the face of Tanilo, always wet with sweat in the effort left him to endure the pain. He felt closer to her mouth, hiding her hair, asking, in a voice apenitas, to help him. He says he told her he had finally healed, they no longer bother him any pain. Now I can be with you, Natalia. Help me to be with you ", supposedly said that.
Talpa We'd just leave, leave him there buried it deep in that groove depth as we did for burial. Natalia
And forget me ever since. I know how before his eyes shone like moonlit puddles. Destained But suddenly, he wiped his eyes as if he had rolled on the ground. And did not seem to see nothing. All that existed for her was the Tanilo her, she had looked while he was alive and buried him when he had to die.


It took twenty days to find the real path of Talpa. Until then had been the three solos. From there we started to get together with people coming out of everywhere, that had led us in that way as width similar to current a river, which made us walk dragged, pushed around like if we take tied with strands of dust. Because the land was rising, with the bustle of people, a white powder as corn husks and turned up high to fall, but the feet when walking and they did it back up again, so all the time was that dust above and below us. And above this ground was the empty sky, no clouds, just dust, but dust does not provide any shade.
We had to wait for the night to rest from the sun and the way that white light.
Then the days were getting longer. Zenzontla we had left in mid-February, and now starting in March dawned soon. Barely closed our eyes at dusk, when we wake up the sun again the same sun that seemed to run out of a while ago.
never felt it was slower and violent life as a amontonadero walk among people, as if we were a hive of worms crammed under the sun, twisting between the closure of the dust enclosed us all in the same village and we bore the bay. The eyes were the polvarera; gave in the dust like stumble on something you could not pass. And the sky is always gray, as gray leaf spot and heavy crushed us all from above. Only sometimes, when we crossed a river, the powder was higher and clearer. Feverish plunge head and blackened in the green water, and for a moment all of us out blue smoke, like steam coming out of his mouth with the cold. But then disappeared again slightly mixed into the dust, covered some others from the sun that heat the sun shared among everyone.
night will come someday. In this thought. Night will come and we'll get to rest. Now it's across the day, running through it as heat and sun. Then we stop. Later. What we have to do for now is effort after effort to hurry along behind so many like us and ahead of many others. That's the point. Well to rest and good when we're dead.
In that Natalia and I thought and perhaps Tanilo, when we were on the road of Talpa, including the procession, trying to get the first up to the Virgin, before he ran out of miracles.
But Tanilo started getting meaner. There came a time when he no longer wanted to go. The flesh of his feet had burst and the blowdown that blood began to fall out. We take care of until it was good. But, nevertheless, did not want to follow:
"I'll be sitting here a day or two and then again Zenzontla me." That told us.
But Natalie and I did not want. There was something inside of us that would not let us feel no pity for any Tanilo. We wanted to get him to Talpa, because at that point, as it was, still had plenty of life. So while I rinsed the feet Natalia with liquor in order to deflate him, gave him encouragement. He said that only the Virgin of Talpa cure him. She was the only one who could do that he will get better forever. She just. Virgin had many, but only that of Talpa was good. That's what Natalie said. Tanilo
And then he began to mourn with tears that did groove between the sweat of your face and then he cursed himself for being bad. Natalia spirt wiped the tears with her shawl, and between her and I got up to walk the ground to another while longer, before nightfall.
Thus, tugs, was how we came with him to Talpa.
Already in recent days also we felt tired. Natalia and I felt that we would bend the body from more and more. It was as if something was apprehended and charged a heavy bundle on us. Tanilo more often we fall and we had to lift and sometimes carry on their shoulders. Maybe we were like that: with the body loose and full of lazy to walk. But people who were there with us made us walk faster.
At night, he calmed down runaway world. Shone scattered everywhere around the fires and the fire people prayed the rosary pilgrimage with his arms crossed, staring into the sky from Talpa. And he could hear the wind carried and brought this rumor, stirring, until it became a single bellow. Shortly after everything was still. At about midnight I could hear someone singing very far from us. Then he closed his eyes and waited sleepless dawn. We entered


Praise singing Talpa. We were out in mid-February and reached Talpa in the last days of March, when many people came back. Everything was because Tanilo got to do penance. As was surrounded by men carrying bunches of cactus and scapular hanging, he also thought to bring theirs. Dio feet tied to each other with the sleeves of his shirt so his steps became more desperate. Then wanted to wear a crown of thorns. Little bit then blindfolded, and later, in the last stretches of the road, knelt on the ground, and so, walking on the bones of their knees with hands folded back, Talpa reached that thing was my Tanilo brother Santos, that thing so full of poultices and dark thread of blood left in the air, in passing, a sour smell like dead animal.
And at least we agree it stuck between the dances. Just when we realized and I was there with the long rattle, giving hard blows on the ground with their feet bruised and barefoot. All seemed angry, as if shaking the courage he had with him a long time, or as if making a last effort to get to live a little longer.
Perhaps seeing the dances he remembered when he went every year to Toliman, the novena of the Lord, and danced the night away until your bones are loosened, but without getting tired. Maybe that was agreed and wanted revive its former strength.
Natalia and I saw it and for a moment. Then we saw him raise his arms and whip her body into the ground, the rattle still ringing in his hands spattered with blood. We took it in tow, hoping to defend the stomping of the dancers, from the fury of those feet that rolled over the rocks and jumped crushing the earth without knowing that something had fallen in their midst.
On the back, as if crippled, entered him in the church. Natalia I knelt beside her, enfrentito of golden figurine that was the Virgin of Talpa. And Tanilo began to pray and let fall a tear is large, deep inside out, turning off Natalia candle had placed in his hands. But he did not realize this, the luminary candles lit so that there was cut off that thing with which one is known to account for what happens next to one. Continued praying with a candle off. Praying loudly to hear that said.
But not earned. He died anyway.
"... Our hearts go out for a prayer as she wrapped in pain. Many regrets riots with hope. Not deafen his tenderness and to the cries and tears, as she suffers with us. She knows how to erase that stain, and let the heart becomes soft and pure to receive His mercy and charity. The Virgin ours our mother who wants no part of our sins, which are blamed for our sins, which would bring in their arms so they do not hurt us life, is here with us, relieves fatigue and heart disease and our body ahuatado, wounded and pleading. She knows that every day our faith is better because it is made sacrifices ... "
That said, the priest from the pulpit up there. And after he stopped talking, let people praying all at once, with a noise like that of many wasps frightened by the smoke.
But Tanilo and did not hear what he had said the priest. It had been quiet, with his head leaning on his knees. And when Natalie moved him to get up he was dead. Outside
heard the sound of dancing drums and shawm, the ringing of bells. And that was when he gave me grief. See so many living things, see the Virgin Mary there in front of us simply giving your smile and see the other side Tanilo as if it were a nuisance. I was sad.
But we take you there for him to die, that's what I do not forget.


Now we're both in Zenzontla. We have become without him. And Natalia's mother has not asked me anything, or that I did with my brother Tanilo or anything. Natalia has been to mourn over his shoulders and told him that way everything happened.
And I start to feel as if we had not gotten anywhere, we're here in passing, to rest, and then continue walking. I do not know where, but we must continue, because here we are about regret and the memory of Tanilo.
might even start to fear us each other. That thing of not saying anything since we left Talpa may want to say that. Maybe we both have very close Tanilo body, lying on the mat rolled up, filled inside and outside a swarm of blue flies that buzzed like a great hum out of his mouth, the mouth that could not be closed despite the efforts of Nancy and myself, and that seemed to breathe even without finding breath. From that Tanilo whom nothing was hurting, but he was as sore, hands and feet engarruñados and eyes wide open looking at his own death. And here and there all his wounds dripping a yellow water, full of the smell that spilled all over and felt in the mouth, as if he were sipping a thick, bitter honey melting in the blood of one each breath.
It maybe that what we agree here more often: the one Tanilo that we buried in the cemetery of Talpa that Natalia and I threw up dirt and rocks for they were not digging up the mountain animals.

Text taken from:
http://www.literatura.us/rulfo/talpa.html

Image taken from:
http://www.masdeviajes.com/imagenes/fotos/Rulfo1.jpg