PRACTICE 3.

PRACTICE 3.

August 31st.

There are five people at our table, including myself. I´ve already learnt a great deal about them in the short time we have been at sea, although we rarely meet except at meal-times.

First of all, there is Dr Stone -my favourite, I must confess. He is a man of about sixty-five, with grey hair and a humorous face. He gave up his practice a short while ago and is now traveling round the world before he retires to some quiet country village. As a young man, he served abroad for many years as a doctor in the Army. He speaks several languages and has told us a great deal about the ports we are going to call at. He seems to have been everywhere. During the day, when he is not talking to his fellow passengers (one gets the impression that he already knows everybody on board!), he sits on deck reading or else gazes out to sea through an old-fashioned telescope.

Then there is "grandmother". I call her that because her name escapes me. In spite of being a grandmother, she looks remarkably young, not more than forty-five. She is on her way to visit a daughter who emigrated to Australia some years ago. Naturally she is very excited at the thought of seeing her again, and her three grandchildren, whom she has never seen. She can talk of little else. This voyage is a great adventure for her: she has never been abroad before.

Then there is a man I do not care for very much, an engineer by the name of Barlow. He has been on leave in England and is now returning to his work in Singapore. He seems full of energy: he swims or plays tennis the best part of the day. I have never in my life met a man with such a loud laugh. He has the cabin next to mine and I can hear his laugh even through the wall!

The other person who sits at our table is Mrs. Hunt. I have found out hardly anything about her. She is extremely quiet and rarely talks, except to consult the doctor about her children´s various ailments. She is on her way to join her husband in India.

Extract from a diary...

PRACTICE 2.

PRACTICE 2.

While I was walking along the road the other day I happened to notice a small brown leather purse lying on the pavement. I picked it and opened it to see if I could find out the owner´s name. There was nothing inside it except some small change and a rather old photograph -a picture of a woman and a young girl about twelve years old, who looked like the woman´s daughter. I put the photograph back and took the purse to the police station, where I handed it to the sergeant in charge. Before I left, the sergeant made a note of my name and address in case the owner of the purse wanted to write and thank me.

That evening I went to have dinner with an uncle and aunt of mine. They had also invited another person, a young woman, so that there would be four people at table. The young woman´s face was familiar, but I could not remember where I had seen it. I was quite sure that we had not met before. In the course of conversation, however, the young woman happened to remark that she had lost her purse that afternoon. I at once remembered where I had seen her face. She was the young girl in the photograph, although she was now much older. Of course she was very surprised when I was able to describe her purse to her. Then I explained that I had recognised her face from the photograph I had found in the purse. My uncle insisted on going round to the police station immediately to claim the purse. As the police sergeant handed it over, he said that it was a remarkable coincidence that I had found not only the purse but also the person who had lost it.

PRACTICE 1.

PRACTICE 1.

Dear Readers,

I am going to share a good number of old short stories that may appeal to the reader´s eyes.

Some of them, I did not write. They were included in my teacher´s journals for the student´s practical written exercises which we had to know by heart. Many years have already gone by... These old English passages will begin with the word "PRACTICE..."

Of course, I shall continue with MY STORIES and POEMS IN SPANISH.

It was already late when we set out for the next town, which according to the map was about fifteen miles away on the other side of the hills. There we felt sure that we would find a bed for the night. Darkness fell soon after we left the village, but luckily we met no one as we drove swiftly along the narrow winding road that led to the hills. As we climbed higher, it became colder and rain began to fall, making it difficult at time to see the road. I asked John, my companion, to drive more slowly.

After we had traveled for about twenty miles, there was still no sign of the town which was marked on the map. We were beginning to get worried. Then, without warning, the car stopped. A quick examination showed that we had run out of gasoline. Although we had little food with us, only a few biscuits and some chocolate, we decided to spend the night in the car.

Our meal was soon over. I tried to go to sleep at once, but John, who was a poor sleeper, got out of the car after a few minutes and went for a walk up the hill. Soon he came running back. From the top of the hill he had seen, in the valley below, the lights of the town we were looking for. We at once unloaded all our luggage and, with a great effort, managed to push the car to the top of the hill. Then we went back for the luggage, loaded the car again and set off down the hill. In less than a quarter of an hour we were in the town, where we found a hotel quite easily.

"THE NEXT DAY..."

"THE NEXT DAY..."

The sun in the early Spring came out again like a glowing candle, a gorgeous star sparkling in the distant horizon.

This poet, who is presently living abroad, envisioned once as if she would be watching her New York family like a satellite wrenched from its orbit, parting, or drifting away; like a feeble seed loosened from its parent stem...

At last, the day turned out to become a joyful one, when the poet´s family decided to pick up the phone and make an overseas call to say:

"I love you!!"

"Happy Birthday, dear mom!!"

"Happy Birthday, dear grandma!!"

Thanks God, my dear family showed some love!!

These simple words seem so easy to say, yet they should infer a meaningful content.

Thank you for visiting my site and reading my posts!!

STARRY.

"A DAY IN MY LIFE..."

"A DAY IN MY LIFE..."

When I woke up early this morning, my four cats were by my side as usual as my only company in my room.
I walked to the kitchen to fix my light breakfast, which would be a cup of tea and a couple of cookies with homemade jelly.
At that moment, I felt a strong energy glowing by my left side, and when I turned around to glance at it, I saw the whole presence of my dear mother. She held my left arm, gave me a big hug, and said:
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MY DEAR DAUGHTER!!"
Then, my mother´s image vanished into thin air. In fact, she was the only one who wished me happy birthday, because no one else did.
My mother came straight from Heaven to remind me that she would always care for me no matter what. I miss my dear mother so dearly!!
My birthday is a lonely day without her, just a day in my life, or another day, or another blow...
Thank you for visiting my site and reading my posts!!
STARRY.

PERDÍ A MI ÚNICO BEBÉ...

"PERDÍ A MI ÚNICO BEBÉ."

Todavía hay quienes dudan de que los animales sean capaces de demostrar emociones. En el caso de nuestros primos los grandes simios, como son los gorilas, la expresión de emociones como el amor, la negación, la frustración o la tristeza son irrefutables.

La gorila Gana del Zoológico alemán de Munster estaba sujetando a su bebé Claudio, cuando aparentemente murió en sus brazos a causa de un defecto de su corazón. Gana es incapaz de aceptar la muerte de su cría y sujeta su cuerpecito como si se tratara de una muñeca de trapo, esperando que un rayo de vida ilumine a su bebé muerto. Los visitantes del Zoo de Munster tuvieron que contener las lágrimas al ver a esta Gorila desconsolada por la muerte de su único hijo.

Gana estuvo durante horas agitando al bebé intentando devolverle el movimiento al inerte cuerpecito. Incapaz de aceptar la muerte del pequeño Claudio, pasó a acariciarle y acunarle sin parar, pero no consiguió reanimarle. Finalmente lo cargó sobre su lomo, para que no se despegara de ella. Como se puede apreciar en éstas fotos que compartimos, sus sentimientos de madre eran admirables, y ver cómo amaba a su único bebé que había perdido es verdaderamente conmovedor. Se me empiezan a caer mis propias lágrimas...

Después de dos días los cuidadores del Zoo Munster no han sido capaces de arrancarle a la Gorila Gana el cuerpo de su hijo para hacerle la autopsia.

Joerg Adler, director del Zoo, afirma que los Gorilas, tienen gran respeto por sus muertos expresando tristeza por el fallecimiento y gran cuidado por el cadáver. En algunas ocasiones informa de que se han encontrado "enterramientos" de gorilas hechos con hojas.

Gana ha perdido un hijo pero como argumenta, a nosotros nos ha dado una lección, la de que los Gorilas pueden tener emociones como las nuestras.

No es que los Gorilas tengan sentimientos humanos, es que este tipo de sentimientos no son exclusivos de los humanos.

Los animales tienen sentimientos, y Gana es una prueba de ello. Pareciera que con sus ojos de madre estuviera diciendo: "Perdí a mi único bebé..."

Gracias por leer.

Starry.

"Ella está esperándolos en el tiempo X."

"Ella está esperándolos en el tiempo X."

Ella está esperándolos en el tiempo X. Los viajes en el tiempo X se trata de lugares, personas y hechos en el tiempo pasado que se recogen en historias en éste lugar virtual.

Ella está esperándolos desde hace mucho tiempo. Está preparada y en su lugar habitual esperando que hagan cualquier maniobra para atacarla, y ella responderá con su mejor inteligencia sabiendo que los atacantes vendrán a buscarla en algún momento.

Ella no es una mujer cualquiera. Ella es una guerrera muy fiel a sus principios morales.

Dios es su único mejor amigo, y en el único en quién confía. Lo demás es historia...

La bestia acecha en las sombras...

La bestia acecha en las sombras.

La creatura fantasmal acecha en la oscuridad escondiendo su verdadero rostro. Lo cubre con una máscara falsa de ser bueno y amigable, pero detrás se esconde no menos que la muerte. Es un psicópata anormal, cruel y perverso.

Nadie se le opone, nadie lo enfrenta, pues le tienen miedo...La mala suerte de los demás, es su buena suerte. Destruye todo; la desgracia de lo ajeno, se transforma en beneficio propio hacia él.

Sus víctimas son inocentes seres que desconocen el peligro al que enfrentan.

Es un ser despreciable y abominable. Las llagas que la bestia me infirió aún sangran, y él se divierte y se ríe de la miseria ajena. Se ríe de sus víctimas, goza con el sufrimiento de los demás.

Es un ser sadista y enfermo mental. Debería desaparecer de la faz de la Tierra porque...

de lo contratio, aquél que lo conozca, estará perdido para siempre...