#Cristian Cruz

[arrozconlecheeee]

Lately been really thinking about him a lot❄️

[aembarcar]

✝️ Domingos contrarrevolucionarios.....🙏🙏🇻🇦🇻🇦

[theflashbackculture]

[mundillotaurino]

Les résultats du Dimanche 8 octobre 2023 : Zaragoza, Valencia, Hellin, El Veylon, Torre Pacheco, Huerta del Rey

Zaragoza, Dimanche 8 octobre Corrida concours – Toros de  Castillejo de Huebra, José Luis Pereda (2º y 3º bis), Sánchez Herrero, Aurelio Hernando, Hermanos Cambronell pourJoselillo : vueltaPaulita : salutSerranito : salutRuben Pinar : salut après avisCarlos Gallego : salut après avisJuan del Alamo : silence Valencia, Dimanche 8 octobre 4 toros de Domingo Hernandez (1/5) / Garcigrande (2/4) et…

[zaydabuzaydrp]

Abu Zayd, più precisamente Zayd Abu Zayd Ab-Alh-Rahmann III, meglio conosciuto come "il Moro Zeyt", è un altro dei grandi protagonisti della nascita del Regno cristiano di Valencia.

Ultimo signore almohade di Valencia, era il pronipote del califfo berbero Abd-Al-Mucmin. Pur essendo originario di Baeza, era stato avviato alla politica dal nipote, il califfo Yusuf II, che lo nominò governatore di Valencia.

L’ultimo re almohade di Valencia vide presto sorgere problemi, sia per la pressione delle truppe cristiane a nord sia per quella di altri signori musulmani a sud. Insieme alla corruzione politica, che già esisteva all’epoca, avevano soffocato il popolo.

Dopo la morte del califfo Yusuf II, la decadenza politica si aggravò. Fu allora che Abu Zayd fu costretto a chiedere la protezione di Ferdinando III, il re santo di Castiglia. I raccolti rovinati da una piaga di cavallette e la mancanza di cibo incoraggiarono la ribellione della popolazione. In questa situazione, Zayyan Ibn Mardanis, discendente del re Lobo, arrivò a Valencia da Onda e guidò il rovesciamento di Abu Zayd, che dovette lasciare la città con il suo seguito e la sua famiglia nel 1229, diretto a Segorbe (Castellón).

Qui storia e leggenda si fondono, poiché si dice che la conversione del "moro Zeyt" sia avvenuta a Caravaca de la Cruz, dove la leggenda vuole che sia apparso il simbolo della croce.

Secondo la tradizione locale più diffusa, si dice che dalla fine del 1230 o all’inizio del 1231, il re almohade di Valencia e Murcia, Abu Zayd, si trovava nei suoi possedimenti a Caravaca. Interrogò i cristiani che teneva prigionieri per scoprire quali mestieri esercitassero, con l’obiettivo di occuparli secondo le loro capacità. Tra loro c’era il sacerdote Ginés Pérez Chirinos che, come missionario, era venuto da Cuenca nelle terre saracene per predicare il Vangelo. Egli rispose che il suo compito era quello di celebrare la messa e il re moresco voleva sapere com’era. Fu ordinato di portare da Cuenca i paramenti corrispondenti e il 3 maggio 1232, nella sala nobile della fortezza, il sacerdote iniziò la liturgia. Tuttavia, poco dopo aver iniziato la liturgia, dovette fermarsi, spiegando che gli era impossibile continuare perché mancava un elemento essenziale all’altare: un crocifisso.

In quel momento, attraverso una finestra della stanza, due angeli scesero dal cielo e posero delicatamente una croce a due bracci sull’altare. Il sacerdote poté quindi continuare la celebrazione della messa e, in presenza di tale meraviglia, Abu-Ceyt (insieme ai membri della sua corte presenti) si convertì al cristianesimo. In seguito si scoprì che la croce apparsa era il pettorale del vescovo Roberto, primo patriarca di Gerusalemme, realizzato con il legno della croce dove morì Gesù Cristo.

Quando Abu Zayd si convertì, prese il nome di Vicente Bellvís, come riportano le cronache dell’epoca. Morì tra il 1265 e il 1270.

La morte di Abu-Zayd è precedente all’11 dicembre 1268, data in cui il documento lo dichiara defunto. I suoi figli e parenti ricevettero un’importante eredità e, essendo imparentati con la nobiltà aragonese, divennero anch’essi signori cristiani.

QUI GIACE D. VICENTIUS BELVIS CON I SUOI ​​FIGLI UN TEMPO ZEIT ABUSIÒ RE VALENTIA MAURUS ADEO IL PROTETTORE DELLA SUA RELIGIONE VT DUE UOMINI INNOCENTI BEATI GIOVANNI DI PERUSIA E PIETRO DI SASSO-FERRATICO FIGLI E COMPAGNI DI PADRE FRANCESCO CHE PREDICANO LA VERA FEDE DI CRISTO OTTENUTO ATTRAVERSO LA SPADA MA RICEVERE LA LUCE DEL PADRE ISPIRATORE OGNI PECCATO FU CONSUMATO DAL SANTO BATTESIMO E IL SEGNO DELL’ETERNA RICONCILIAZIONE EGLI DESTINÒ UNA VOLTA LA SUA SALA IN CHIESA E SEDE.

Intorno al 16 giugno 1860, a Valencia fu eretta una lapide che lasciava in vista alcuni resti umani, il cui stato denotava la loro antichità. Nello stesso luogo fu rinvenuta una pergamena che recitava come segue:

Data di nascita:

17 ottobre 1195

Data di morte:

11 dicembre 1268

Titoli:

-Principe musulmano

-Signore cristiano

Etnia:

Berbero

Religione:

Islam

Religione 2:

Cristiano cattolico

Dinastia:

Almohade

Amici:

Ismail Haniyeh e Yasser Arafat

Prestavolti nella trama:

-Alvaro Rico

-Walid Azaro

-Asier Cadenas

-David Raya

-Marco Mengoni

-Stephen Ammell

-Peter Porte (pv attuale)

[pupsmailbox]

STARTING WITH C

MASCULINE︰ cade. caden. caelan. caiden. cairo. cal. cale. caleb. caleb.. callahan. callan. callaway. callen. callum. calvin. cam. camden. camdyn. cameron. camilo. camron. cannon. carey. carl. carleton. carlos. carlton. carson. carter. cary. case. casey. cash. casimir. cason. casper. cassius. caulder. cavan. cayden. cayson. cecil. cedar. cedric. cesar. chace. chad. chadwick. chaim. chance. chandler. channing. charles. charley. charlie. charlton. chas. chase. chaz. chesley. chester. chet. chip. chris. christian. christie. christopher. chuck. chuckie. chucky. cillian. clair. clancy. clarence. clark. claud. claude. clay. clayton. clem. clement. cletis. cletus. cleve. cliff. clifford. clifton. clint. clinton. clive. clyde. cobie. cody. cohen. colbert. colby. cole. coleman. colin. collin. collins. collyn. colson. colt. colten. colter. colton. connell. conner. connor. conor. conrad. cooper. corbin. cordell. corey. cori. cornelius. cornell. corwin. cory. cosmo. coty. coy. craig. crawford. cree. creighton. crew. crispian. crispin. cristian. crofton. cruz. cullen. curran. curt. curtis. cuthbert. cy. cyan. cyril. cyrus.

FEMININE︰ cadence. caelie. cailin. calanthe. calanthia. caleigh. cali. callie. calliope. cam. camellia. cameron. camila. camilla. camille. camryn. candace. candi. candice. candy. candyce. capri. cara. careen. carey. carina. caris. carissa. carla. carlisa. carlisle. carly. carlyn. carmel. carmella. carmen. carol. carolina. caroline. carolyn. carrie. carter. casey. cass. cassandra. cassidy. cassie. cat. cataleya. catalina. catharine. catherine. cathleen. cathryn. cecelia. cecilia. cecily. cedar. celandine. celeste. celestine. celia. celinda. celine. chalice. chana. chandler. chanel. chanelle. channing. chantal. chantel. chantelle. chanté. charisma. charissa. charisse. charity. charla. charlee. charleen. charleigh. charlene. charley. charli. charlie. charlotte. charmaine. charnette. chasity. chastity. chaya. chelle. chelsea. chelsey. chelsie. cher. cherette. cheri. cherice. cherie. cherilyn. cherise. cherish. cherry. cherryl. cheryl. chesley. chevonne. cheyanne. cheyenne. chloe. chloë. chrissie. chrissy. christa. christabel. christabella. christabelle. christal. christen. christi. christiana. christie. christina. christine. christobel. christy. chrysanta. chrystal. ciara. cicely. ciera. cierra. cinda. cindi. cindra. cindy. claire. clara. clare. clarette. claribel. clarice. clarinda. clarissa. clarity. claudia. clematis. clemence. clemency. clementine. cleo. clover. coleen. colene. colette. colleen. collins. collyn. connie. constance. cora.

NEUTRAL︰ cab. cable. cache. cade. caden. cadence. cai. cal. callahan. callaway. callout. calm. camari. cambrian. camdyn. cameron. camille. camp. campbell. camren. camryn. candle. candy. cannon. canyon. captain. captor. carcass. carousel. carry. carsen. carsyn. carter. cartier. cas. cascade. case. casey. cash. casino. casket. casper. caspian. cassidy. castle. casual. cat. catalogue. cavalry. cave. cavity. cay. caydence. caylen. cedar. celeb. cement. cemetery. century. chain. chainsaw. chandler. channing. chaos. char. charge. charity. charleston. charley. charlie. charly. charm. chase. chayce. checkers. cheer. chemical. cherish. chernobyl. cherry. chevelle. chevy. chiffon. chilly. chip. chirp. chop. chosen. chozen. chris. chrome. chrysalis. chrysanthemum. church. cider. cidney. cinder. cinnamon. city. cj. clarity. clarke. classic. clay. clear. clementine. cliché. click. cliff. cloak. clock. closure. cloud. clover. clownery. cob. cobalt. cobolt. cobra. cocoa. code. codin. colby. colt. comatose. combat. conley. control. cookie. cooper. copeland. copper. cor. coral. corbyn. corduroy. core. corvette. cory. cosmic. count. court. courtesy. courtney. cove. coven. covet. coy. coyote. cradle. crane. crank. crash. cree. crest. crew. crime. crimson. crisis. critter. croc. crosby. cross. crow. crown. cruise. crush. crystal. cupcake. curse. cyan. cyber. cylinder. cypress. cécile.

[levok]

Patiently waiting for Omar's summertalk translation by our kind Swedish speaking friends 🧘🏻‍♀️

Let me google translate it for you <3 - after the jump (I havent read it through for errors)

There is a before and an after.

Before….then I had a music career. First as a member of Scandinavia's biggest boy band and then as a solo artist.

…I was on my way.

Since…. apparently some idiot in Wuhan ate a bat and I ended up behind.

The pandemic.

Everything was closed and turned off.

There were no studios to go to. No offices to have meetings. It was like that for everyone, but then and there it felt like it was mostly for me. It sucked.

I had no job, no one needed me, no one wanted to see me. I got depressed, everything was just shit.

Lying paralyzed at home in the rickety apartment in Barkarby where I was staying with a friend. I slept in a mini bed, we had no living room, no comfortable chair to sit on and it was quite dirty.

What choices did I have?

I could start studying at the high school.

Or I could smear myself in dog food and throw myself in with the pit bull terriers, that sounded better.

Not a chance I'm going back to school-hell.

Then, through my friend Felicia, who is an actress, I heard about a casting for a new TV series. It was a crime series created for Viaplay, "Lyckoviken".

Now that the music career was over, maybe I should invest in becoming an actress? The role was made for me. A singing guy with a guitar, foreign accent, around 21 years old. It's me. Except for the guitar, but I could learn some chords and try to look like I'm good as shit.

Now everything would turn around.

After the casting, Felicia and I got to audition one more time because they liked us. They liked me.

Then I just waited for them to call from the production and say that I would play one of the main roles in the series "Lyckoviken".

At first they didn't call.

But then…. they didn't call either.

The only text I received during these gray days was from my friend with whom I lived.

It said: "I'm breaking up with you as a friend."

What the fuck? Most unclear. I have to move out of here, what the hell is going on?!

But the role, it was mine... until Felicia called and said that someone else would play me, or I mean play the role that I wanted.

I cried.

I cried when I called my mother in Spain.

I cried when she answered.

"Mother my life is over. I'm 22 and it's all over. I can't handle anything, I don't get anything."

Mom gets sad. But she doesn't show it. She has taken me from Venezuela to Sweden. She has done everything for me and for me to succeed in my dream, my artist career. She has fought for me to succeed in what she herself once dreamed of but could not realize.

She says, in Spanish: “Omarcito. Now I want you to stop crying. Take a shower, fix your hair, put on your best outfit and hit the town and show the world your face. You are going to make this day the greatest. You should feel your best, look good and meet your best friends. Don't hide at home. If life hits you, get back up and show life your face.”

"Sal y muestra tu cara a la vida."

Go out and show life your face….

Yes, mother. That's exactly what I'm going to do.

MUSIC: Azul – Cristian Castro

Mother,

I don't remember my first years, surely no one does. But you have told us about our time together. About dad, who drank. Quite often he was scary and dangerous. That he used to kidnap me sometimes and no one knew where he took me. We lived in a baby blue house in a beautiful town called Puerto La Cruz. It is located on the coast, right on the Caribbean with lots of white beaches in Venezuela.

One day we came home and dad had pulled. He took everything with him. He must have had help, because the only thing left was a mattress, a painting depicting you mother, and my gold necklace, which was probably dropped on the floor on the way out. That was all that was left. And so I, as luck would have it.

Dad never came back, but the family on your side was there, especially grandma. The women in the family always showed up after the men left. There are some men who have actually been good in my family, a few. But women have always been strong. Time after time, they have lost everything, and then they have struggled and organized and worked to make sure that the children and the family have a good life and a roof over their heads.

I remember Grandma, and I've missed her ever since she passed away. She turned 50, it was cancer.

Grandma was the worst fashionista. Always makeup, head to toe beautiful, always high heels.

Mom says grandma couldn't walk without heels, then her feet hurt. Grandma and her husband were self-employed. They had a guard company and access to weapons. Grandma knew exactly how to use them.

You stood there in the ruins of your life mom, but grandma helped you get back on your feet, and me.

Then you had to fight to make our lives work. You worked long hours, and luckily we met a girl, Rosita. Her family came from the high mountains, where the poorer families live.

She became the daughter that you, mother, never had. She moved in with us and took care of me while you were away. I liked her so much, we used to steal mangoes from the neighbor and eat them with lots of adobo. It is a salt seasoning.

While you were trying to put our life back together, Dad put our house up for sale. He totally messed with us, messed with you living in the house with his and your child. We didn't even know about it.

One day grandma drove us home, and the house was locked with a big padlock. We saw some women moving inside our house, they were cleaning. Grandma took out the gun, aimed at the lock and shot it to pieces. Weapons drawn, she entered, the women threw their hands in the air and shouted that they knew nothing. Then they ran away, across the asphalt, without even taking their shoes with them.

It became a fucking war with lawyers. In the end we actually got to stay.

(Short break)

Cut to - we had a good time. I had my own bed. A separate room filled with lots of toys.

We even had a dog.

But life must have been so hard for you mom.

I understand that. I see it, and I hear it, and I believe you, mother you must believe me - for me it was a wonderful time, perhaps the best of my life.

I was so loved. You, great-grandmother and all her children, my uncles and aunts, cousins ​​and the whole family. You loved me. I loved you.

In grandma's big red house we had family dinners and parties. Grandma had her own animals that roamed freely everywhere. Turtles, two swans who were very dangerous though and always chased me and my cousin Ahimee when we were out playing.

We also mustn't forget Grandma's pet monkey, Panchito. Everyone hated that monkey, it was a pig to a monkey, it threw mangoes at us and peed on the food. Grandma protected the monkey with her life and would beat whoever tried to harm the monkey.

Grandma loved to sing and dance, just like everyone else in the family, but she was a fucking superstar.

And maybe she put a ray of her talent in me.

Someone lifted me onto the table and shouted: "Cheer for the artist Omarcito!" I sang, threw off my diaper and danced. You think I'm drifting but it's actually true. Someday you might get to see pictures.

I felt so good in Venezuela, was the happiest kid in the world.

My childhood was a web, a pattern of love, light, music and warmth.

But in my life there are also other patterns.

I had a crappy dad. Dad had a crappy dad. Mom had a crappy dad.. Grandma had a crappy dad. Great grandma had a crap dad.

Listen, mom, that's enough! I promise I'll be the first to break the pattern.

MUSIC: A Puro Dolor – Son by Four

I have a few memories from when I first came to Sweden.

Everything is like blurry fragments, or puzzle pieces that my brain can't quite put together into a complete picture.

When we land, it's summer, and it feels like...nothing at all. It's a beautiful summer day, not as hot as at home but still quite nice.

And there he stands, Tomas.

He stands there and receives us.

To me it is unclear who he is, he is just Tomas. A new friend.

He had visited us in Venezuela a couple of months before so that we could get to know him and he would get to know mother, me and the whole family. He was liked by all.

Now I get to see his car, a red Volvo. I'm not that impressed with the car, but it's red, it's nice.

We get into the car. I get in the back seat and fall asleep, my memory goes out there.

When I wake up, I'm lying on a sofa bed in an apartment. It feels like I slept for three days. Or some puzzle pieces are missing. But this is where we will live now, in this apartment, in this city called Karlstad.

Mom and Thomas lean over me, they hold a giant stuffed snake over my face and I start laughing. They are so quirky. That snake is mine now. Love that it's like three times as tall as me.

Now the fragments come a little closer.

Over time I realized that mother and Tomas were in love. They hugged and laughed a lot together. Tomas started to become a bit like a father figure to me. It was a bit hard to take in because I hadn't grown up with a father, and not being able to talk and understand him didn't make it any easier at first. But I felt safe with Tomas. He was funny, kind and he made up funny things with us. He was there every day, it was something new for me. Something I would get used to.

After only a month from the time we landed in Sweden, there was a wedding. I had to help mom choose a wedding dress. We both agreed it would be a white dress. I specifically wanted her to have a little crown in her hair, like Disney princesses have. That's exactly how it happened.

It was a nice summer day. The wedding was outdoors, at Toma's mother's house. She had the most beautiful plot I have ever seen. There was the scent of flowers everywhere you went. Mom and I loved their plot and I couldn't stop adventuring.

At the wedding I was allowed to eat as many strawberries as I wanted. I have never eaten as many strawberries as I did that day. They were so red and juicy. After a while I was the only one who looked like a little drunk, shirt unbuttoned and soaked, dirty pants, messy face and hair a mess. Then out of nowhere, torrential rain.

There was panic, people tried to save the food and cake, mother's white dress got dirty and stuck to her body. The grass was super slippery and people were slipping around. It just got crazy. Then we stood under the balcony roof for the rest of the wedding.

It was still a nice day as I remember it.

Hope the bride and groom also feel the same way as I do.

All in all it was a nice time.

My first month in Sweden.

MUSIC: Mama – Omar Rudberg

When I was little, I had a lot of fantasies. I made movies in my head. I pretended to be every superhero I had just seen on film and I fought bad guys.

 I loved dinosaurs. When I didn't have toys, I played with my hands. I made a dinosaur with one hand and another with the other.

Then it just sounded….pshoo…chee….they were fighting. They have the hell of a fight. One flies into the rock wall, others fall and get stuck with their teeth in the ground.

It was at such a weird level that Tomas thought they should take me to a child psychologist, just check me out to be safe.

Mom was stressed. She wanted me to be a healthy kid. But to be absolutely sure that I was really healthy, they sent me to a child psychologist. She had lots of nice toys. We hung out for an hour or so and we became very good friends. I don't know how we talked, maybe she knew Spanish, but we clicked. Then mother came, she was very worried.

The psychologist said: "You must never laugh at or play with Omar's fantasies, because he is a healthy kid. He is a child, let him be and let him live in his little world, because he will be happy and well.”

So there was nothing wrong with me.

And honestly, I needed my fantasies, because the first time here was alone.

We wanted to become Swedish citizens, but I wasn't allowed to start school. Officially, we were here as tourists and did not yet have a residence permit.

I missed over a year of school.

So it was pretty much mom and me.

Tomas worked every day.

If we had gone to a foreign country on the other side of the world, just mom and me, then you have to stick together. And we did.

We went out every day on discovery trips to get to know Sweden and Karlstad.

It was summer but the weather wasn't as hot as at home, but it was still chill.

Something that mom and I noticed was how calm and quiet it was in Karlstad compared to where we came from. Not a lot of traffic, no honking cars, no loud music anywhere, no one standing and shouting at each other in the middle of people. Yes, it was much quieter here. It felt safer for both me and mother, but often it also got a bit boring.

One day I got a dragon, a green dragon. It had dragon wings and a dragon face. I had never had a kite before.

Outside the apartment was a tall grass hill.

I went all the way up and tried to get my kite to take off. In front of the hill there was a kindergarten, and a great many children were playing there. I remember the feeling so strongly, I watched them and really wanted to be there. But I was not part of their world.

It was difficult to get the dragon up. Sometimes it flew a few meters but then it crashed.

If I ran fast, it went better. Downstairs from the kindergarten, I used to hear the other children being called in for snack, but I ran on the hill.

It did nothing.

I was alone, but it didn't matter. I understood that my time had not come yet, but maybe soon? There will surely come a day when the kindergarten teacher will call: "Omar, you have to come in now, isn't it?" And I would say: "My name is actually Omaar!"

In Venezuela I had also attended kindergarten. There you start learning things early. Learned to spell and write when I was about three years old. And I had a lot of friends. There was even a girl that I had a crush on. So I knew that I am also someone who can be someone's friend.

And now we also had the psychologist, what did she say? "Omar is a healthy kid."

The wind caught hold of the kite, and suddenly it took off. Loud, fucking loud. It jerked a little to the sides and tried to tear itself away. But I held the string, and it was I who steered the kite, however it danced with the winds. On a grassy hill in Karlstad, I was in charge.

Omarcito, a kid with a lot of imagination. Who tames dragons.

MUSIC: Te Quiero - Barney

I learned Swedish quickly. Absorbed in me the language without doubt. I began to notice that my mother often asked me, "What does this mean?" What does this email say?” or "Can you help me write a text message?"

Tomas only spoke Swedish to me. And with mother, for her to learn.

I started to think it was cool with Swedish.

It became so cool that I stopped speaking Spanish with my mother.

She didn't like it, not at all. One day everything turned around, she exploded.

“We are from Venezuela and our language is Spanish!”

"From now on, I won't understand if you speak Swedish to me."

She stopped answering me when I addressed her in the wrong language. When I asked for water in Swedish, she just looked at me.

I got mad, she thought she was stupid. “Can you please stop?”

She absolutely did not stop.

“Yo no hablo sueco Omar. Check my hair. Check my face. I'm not from here”.

It was her way of keeping me close to our roots. She was afraid that I would forget the language and lose our common origin, and perhaps even more our common background. She didn't want to lose me. She didn't want me to lose myself.

We were in Sweden but we were something other than Swedes. I soon understood that, not only from mother but from everywhere.

Here I was different. I didn't know the language, my hair was curly, I had a different style and I was fat brown. As a child I was very brown.

So even though I was scolded by my mother for becoming too Swedish, I was not Swedish among Swedes. But when we went to visit relatives in Venezuela, I was suddenly Swedish.

In Venezuela, my cousins ​​did my mining. "Have you gone and become a gringo now or not? What the hell do you sound like? Gringo, gringooooo hahaha”, I kept hearing. Got teased for losing the Venezuelan way of being quick in the mouth.

So now I became sensitive and easy to push down.

Went crying to mom several times.

“They say I'm a gringo. I was born here.”

"But what's the problem, you like to speak Swedish." Then get on with it,” she said.

I didn't place anywhere. Now I was the dragon and no one was holding the string.

MUSIC: Amparito – Maracaibo 15

Maybe it was because I didn't place anywhere that I started taking places?

I was an outsider, but I didn't hide.

I sang and danced and at the age of ten I started performing and competing in talent contests.

Mother was a dance teacher and had started her own business. She had great dance classes.

She herself had had dreams of becoming an artist, but above all an actor when she was younger.

I got to join her classes and dance with her and all her students. Helped choreograph and cleaned up both before and after her classes.

I became very good friends with a group of girls in one of her dance classes. They were a group the same age as me.

Mom coached me. Helped me choreograph light dance steps and with staging that I would run on stage.

She and Tomas used to drive me to the races. My goal was to be in Talang on TV4, never missed an episode.

And I actually dared to apply, I was accepted to take part in a selection when I was ten years old.

But after my first attempt at Talang in a shopping center somewhere in Sweden, I didn't make it. I had danced like Michael Jackson, was dressed like him, it was Billie Jean. They didn't choose me, but I was still happy, because afterwards the jury said I was good.

Mom knew how to top our act to make it better. She didn't give up. I would move on. She found out that the week after, Talang had an audition in Jönköping. This time I wasn't just going to dance. Now I would sing and dance. There was a lot of snow on the roads and I remember we were stressed and late.

Mom happened to drive the wrong way. We rode in a minivan and slid on the snow like ice skates.

But we make it just in time, mom asks them to please let me perform and do my audition. They say my name and the crowd cheers. The music starts.

It's Livin' La Vida Loca with Ricky Martin on top volume.

The audience screams.

I dance my way onto the stage, shake my shoulders, wiggle my hips and create chaos.

Walks off stage suffering from stomach cramps. I'm in a lot of pain and I'm lying on my mother's lap, it's probably the nerves and the tension.

But I have moved on. I'm going to be on TV, for the first time!

MUSIC: Livin' La Vida Loca – Ricky Martin

I went to a school in Åsa. Located about 40 minutes outside Gothenburg. The school consisted of only Swedish kids. Everyone would be the same, that was important.

But I lived in a bubble where sometimes I was a star, sometimes I fought villains. My imagination was as wild as ever.

Soon my performance in Talang would be broadcast on TV. My debut in front of the big audience. I proudly went up to the principal to ask for help with the marketing.

“Hello,” I said.

"Hello," she said, looking at me curiously.

"Well, on Friday I'll be in Talent on TV."

"Okay."

"Can't you say it over the speakers so the whole school can hear it?"

I was the only guy who did gay things like singing and dancing and thought it would be cool to get a shoutout from the principal. So fat.

"Absolutely," she said.

"Yes!"

"But then I think you should say it into the microphone yourself."

"Huh!"

Never in my entire life that I should stand there and everyone should hear me when I say I should be on TV.

I was constantly teased for the way I looked and for what I did, and I got comments all the time and some called me the n-word. Sorry but how sick is that? To use that word against any human being at all

Besides that, I'm not even black, but brown. I am Hispanic. But I guess I was the brownest thing they had seen in Åsa.

Interesting how children of that age have learned such words.

Guess it comes from home. Big side eye…

Anyway. The headmaster stood his ground.

"You're welcome to tell the school you're going to be on TV, but I won't."

"Well...I'll think about it"

I left there. Thought of everyone who would hear. The nines would hear my voice. The nines! So I was in the fourth grade and we were probably 200 students at that school.

I decided to screw it up, but then I regretted it.

I was still annoyed.

It couldn't get worse, rather only better because everyone knew they could see me on TV soon.

And because I got a shoutout from the principal.

I got up again later that day and said I was done thinking.

“I do it myself.”

"Good," said the headmaster.

"Then you press this button, then the microphone turns on and when I say NOW, then you can start talking."

I pressed the button and heard ding ding. Felt like it could be heard in all the classrooms, the dining hall, the gymnasium, the whole world would now stop what they were doing to listen to me. Felt my pulse increase. I kind of had heart palpitations.

"Now," said the headmaster.

“Hello, this is Omar. I'm in Talang on Friday. Everyone can turn on TV4 and watch it. Bye."

The principal smiled at me and looked happy.

"Thanks," I said and ran as fast as I could to my class. I was filled with adrenaline. I was so happy. Felt so cool.

When I enter the classroom, everyone looks at me.

“Did you hear?”

Everyone was so happy and thought it was so cool.

No one had ever been allowed to speak into the principal's microphone. This was big.

I had made it through, or maybe I would make it through.

In any case, it shouldn't get any worse now.

I hoped so anyway.

MUSIC: Happier – Omar Rudberg

The reactions in the school after Talang were great at first.

A short while.

But… it was quickly forgotten.

Left were the maids.

But I kept doing my thing, even though no one understood what I was doing.

I had to start going to a singing teacher, Marie Jakobsson. I developed quickly. With her I got to sing in a studio for the first time ever. With reverb and headphones. It was a sick feeling.

From her I learned that there was a man named Lasse who had talent contests.

There, at Lasse's competitions, they had discovered, among others, Eric Saade and Molly Sandén.

That's what I've been told anyway.

I was a big fan of Eric and knew all his songs.

I entered, and won, in the same year, all three of their biggest competitions.

It was big.

It went well now.

For a boy of 12 years.

One day our home phone rang and mom forced me to answer.

I hated answering the home phone.

I got so mad when I had to answer. I thought it was a disturbance.

Well, at least I got to answer this time too.

Mom stood and grinned.

Thomas too.

There was something strange in the air.

And then something completely insane happens.

"Hello."

“Well Omar! How's it going? It's Eric Saade calling.”

I'm going to be a Duracell bunny. Jumping around the whole house like an idiot. Jagr completely in shock. I turn questioningly towards mother, who is filming with a mobile phone, it is shaking because she is laughing so much. Looking at Thomas who is also about to fall over with laughter.

To Eric, who called, I don't say much. Maybe just: "hey...hey".

“I wonder if you want to perform with me. There is a gala on television called Kristallen.”

I probably didn't get many words out on the phone, but...

Then we stood there a while later. Dressed exactly the same, we performed together at the Crystal Gala in 2011.

It was the best thing that ever happened to me!

When I got back to school, everyone knew what had happened. It felt like it was the talk of the year.

People turned, stared, there was talk.

Everything was different. But not exactly better.

A guy who always argued with me came up and said:

“Have you been with that Eric. You know he's peddo right? Everyone says that.”

"You understand that he is a peddo and a gay. You are too, aren't you? Fucking gays.”

No, I didn't immediately become a poppie. The equation was very simple: The bigger the appearance, the scarier the school.

I came home crying a lot of times, and it got to the point where I wanted to stop singing. But it was too late now. I had gone outside the mold, pushed boundaries. There was absolutely no turning back, no way I could get them to accept me as one of them.

Mom supported me.

"Do you like to sing Omar?"

"But I don't want any more..."

“But do you LIKE to sing? Do you love to perform?”

“Yes… but…”

"Then we will continue to do what we love together!"

And the cow was right. Why would I give up what I loved, to fit in with those I really didn't love? And we had fought hard to get here, mother and I.

But everyday life was a pain. There were many that I was afraid of. Both boys and girls. Even got a smack here and there. In the end, I hated my school.

I started seventh grade and finally had to change schools, to a bigger school in Kungsbacka. And now I could start seventh grade as who I was, an artist, or at least a guy who liked to dance and sing.

But I still find it strange that I have to change schools, just because I wanted to be something. Isn't that why you go to school?

MUSIC: Diamonds - Rihanna

New school and new classmates. It started well. I got a reboot. No one would push me down. The only thing that was similar to my old school was all the looks, but the looks were different, more curious now. It felt like they knew who I was, though I didn't understand how.

Guess it was because of Talent and the Crystal, but I don't know.

I ended up in a music and art class where everyone had the same interests as me. Loved all my new friends and loved our music lessons.

Mom had filmed all my performances and put it all on Youtube. Thanks to her I was discovered.

A newly started record company from Stockholm contacted my parents. They wanted to start a boy band.

Cool. But unexpectedly.

I never thought I'd be in a boy band. I was always solo.

But a boy band was interesting, and I had already won all the competitions, so why not try?

I didn't say anything to anyone. I wanted to keep this to myself. I was tired of beautiful dreams at school being shot down by taunts and comments. Without telling anyone at school, I went to Stockholm. There I meet the other boys who will also be in the boy band. I was wearing some ugly sweater, purple cap, purple shoes. The boys must have thought I looked funny. They were Stockholm boys, blonde and tall. Fat sweet.

I was terrified. Hadn't really had such good experiences with guys in groups right away.

But I noticed pretty quickly that they were kind. There was something different about them. I thought they were cool. We got to dance together, and hang out all day. They were professional dancers so I struggled a bit but I learned quickly. Then I had to sing Justin Bieber's song "As Long as You Love Me" in a studio because the record company wanted to see if I could sing. It went well. But at school, no one knew what I was doing. Even when I was accepted and became a member of the boy band The Fooo, I didn't tell anyone.

MUSIC: Build a Girl – The Fooo

At school, there is talk of Justin Bieber coming to Sweden. It's his "Believe tour". He will have three fat gigs at the Avicii Arena. People are crazy tagged. Like all the girls at school are going to Stockholm to see Justin. I'm the one who was tagged the most. Secretly.

Concert week is here. Everyone is going to Stockholm. But I have to leave earlier. We're going to scratch and I've taken the day off from school.

"I'm leaving now, see you!", I say to my classmates.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to the Justin Bieber concert?"

"Now?"

"Yes, I'll scratch with my band."

“What the hell are you talking about?”

"I'm Justin Bieber's band, we're going to be on stage."

People really thought I was joking. I understand them, I didn't believe it myself.

I can't put into words how sick this time was. It was unreasonable. This kind of thing doesn't happen?

We became the band The Fooo and were now to perform for the first time together as Justin Bieber's band. In Avicii Arena. Three nights in a row.

Nobody knew who we were, nobody knew we existed. No one had heard us, not even ourselves. Although we had scratched hard the days before on our dance and on our song

The fans scream, the whole arena shakes and the curtain on the stage opens.

I'm checking on the boys.

We all smile. Now it's happening.

And we drive. So we meat, all of us.

It will be chaos.

Thanks to the three nights at Avici Arena, we become the new big thing.

The Fooo shows up, and there's chaos and screaming and hysteria.

MUSIC: All Around the World - Justin Bieber

The Fooo was just over five years of tumult.

In 2017 we did our last tour together and then the story ended.

But, what a fairy tale.

We became stars from day one.

After a year as a group we had our first own tour. After two years we sold out the Avicii Arena. We won a Grammy, we won MTV awards, toured throughout the Nordics and the USA.

It was the best I knew. I had so much fun.

We ended up in a hurricane.

It started when I was 14. I was just a kid. It was for fun, it wasn't work, not at first anyway. But then it became more and more serious. Often I could stop taking responsibility.

I got grumpy and grumpy when we scratched for hours and I was hungry.

“You have to be professional, Omar.”

No, I screwed up.

“I don't have to do anything. I am completely exhausted in my body, and I want to eat mother's food, I just want to go home.”

I went to school on weekdays and traveled to Stockholm every Friday and home late on Sunday. Every week, over, over and over.

I traveled by myself. The first few times it was scary. Didn't know anything about Stockholm and was afraid of missing the trains. I had no accommodation. In the beginning I had to live with strangers. I don't know how mum managed to get accommodation, it was probably a friend of a friend. Sometimes I felt really bad and I was scared at night because I didn't know the people I slept with.

But I'm still grateful that they let me sleep over there. Never went back to the same places though, so it was always new. Mom could never relax in the beginning either. But then after a while I had to live with the boys. One weekend at Felix's, another at Oscar's and then at Ogge's. It was much safer. I could finally breathe.

One person you only heard about at the new record company was Ola Håkansson. You never got to meet him. Who is this Ola Håkansson? You only heard his name and we boys saw in front of us a mafia king sitting in some office with a lot of cash on the table and sunglasses.

But at a parents' meeting with the other people responsible for the band, Ola joined for the first time. There he found out, via my mother who was very upset, that I had nowhere to live. That I often lived with strangers. Then and there everything changed.

I became a small part of Håkansson's family. I got to live at Ola's, Anna's and their children's house. People with big hearts. It was such a great time. So many great moments. So many discussions at the dinner table and so much bickering you got to witness. (Omar laughs.)

I remember when I accidentally threw Anna's specially made zucchini pasta in the food waste grinder just before dinner. I thought it was rubbish. (Omar laughs.) Five minutes later she asked, "Have you seen my zucchini pasta...it was just here?"

The panic that hit me, fuck my liiife.

And of course I had to admit what I had done. She just sighed and looked very tired. She must have really wanted that zucchini pasta, damn it!

I lived with them for four years. Mom and I will be forever grateful. They are our family, and will be forever.

And I had my friends in the band. We were all children, who eventually became boys, together. Maybe not adults, but we matured, a little.

Fooo started when I was 14 and stopped right when I came of age. It became my youth.

When the band shut down, I was suddenly alone with all the decisions.

I knew exactly what to do. I wanted to sing in English and Spanish.

But then I realized that nobody listens to Latin American music here.

It was a difficult time.

I was lost. I was unemployed and making music that no one listened to.

No, after Fooo, it didn't turn out the way I imagined the first year.

Not second or third either.

I really wanted to take over the world.

But the world wasn't that interested.

Or, rather, the universe had other plans for me.

MUSIC: Oh Susie - Secret Service

So… winter is coming. You know that cold winter of 2019, I didn't get the role in "The Bay of Happiness", my music career was dead and my friend broke up with me as a friend.

"Show life your face," said mother.

I tried. After my outburst on the phone, I went into town and had a chill day with my friends.

And winter became spring, and spring became summer.

I enrolled in a high school, it didn't feel like a privilege, more like a punishment. But what could I do, there was nothing else for me. Didn't want to start working in a cafe, I was afraid of being seen as a failed artist.

It's a real shame, because I would have easily wanted to work in a café instead of studying high school.

Ending with me moving in with another friend, Raul, in Hammarby Sjöstad. In the world's smallest apartment that we shared for three months, we hung out together with my best friend Joel. It was furnished and there was both a TV and a comfortable sofa.

Time sped up, I was dragged along.

And it sounds weird, trigger warning, but my best summer ever rolled around. The world was closed, there was a pandemic and restrictions. But I hung out with all my friends, there were maybe ten of us. We saw each other every day that summer. We really only had time and each other.

In June, my friend Felicia, who was also one of the gang and who had previously tipped me off about "Lyckoviken", told me that she was applying for a new Swedish TV series.

"Damn, what's that?"

"It's a new youth series for Netflix."

"Whoah?! What is it about?"

"I'm not really allowed to say, but it's about a Swedish prince who starts at a boarding school and sort of meets a guy and they fall in love. Ah, it's like a gay love story.”

“How do I get in there? I will have the role of a prince.”

MUSIC: Simon's Song (from Young Royals) – Omar Rudberg

In August, the same sweet summer, I am in Åsa to visit my mother. Sitting on the beach watching the dance class she leads.

I am calm and enjoying the afternoon sun. The program is going badly, I have to admit. Of the two tasks we have received, I am behind with...two. The teacher's tone begins to sharpen.

I also don't have a job or other concrete plans worth leaning a future towards.

I've been to maybe ten casting meetings, costume tests, callbacks and filmed a whole day with the film crew and Edvin for the TV series Young Royals. Been thinking about this series 24/7 for over a month. Came every time they called me, put up with everything they want, gave everything I have. For me, this was life and death. I had managed to become friends with Edvin, who was to play the prince. I understood that the first time I saw him, that it would be him. He is young and extremely experienced. But I could be the secret love. We have test filmed at Hillerska. Picked flowers and held each other's hair.

But why don't they say anything? Why am I not getting a notification?

I lay down on the beach and look up at the afternoon sun. Hear how mom starts rounding off with calm music and stretching movements with her students. She thanks them for today. She looks at me and smiles.

Then my phone rings.

"Hey Omar, how's the situation, is it good or not?", says the familiar voice from the production.

"Yes that is good. Is it now happening or, have I received it or not?”

"You, don't tell anyone I said this, but, you've been offered the role of Simon."

A few weeks earlier I would have screamed myself to death with joy, but not now. This is how it was meant to be.

"I know," I just say.

We end the conversation and I laugh. As much of relief as of joy. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe that I had landed my first role as an actor. My mother waves off her last students. She comes walking across the beach. We will bathe. She looks at me and notices that I'm happy. She knows what I'm going to say. She knew I would get that call today.

"I got the role of mother."

"Le mostraste tu cara a la vida mi hijo."

"You showed life your face my son."

Yes mom, I did.

[camilo20c]

¿ Alguna vez han roto un corazón ?

“Al que ingrato me deja, busco amante; al que amante me sigue, dejo ingrata; constantemente adoro a quien mi amor maltrata; maltrato a quien mi amor busca constante.”

Al que ingrato me deja, busco amante (Sor Juana Inés de la cruz)

he cometido equivocaciones a lo largo de mi vida donde teniendo una sinceridad descarada me tienen sin cuidado la inmensa mayoría, sin embargo, hoy me pesan más que ayer.

Aunque me bastan los dedos de una mano para contar las veces que he despreciado un amor sincero son más de las que me gustas admitir.

El cariño es curioso, damos un salto de fe esperando encontrarnos con un cálido abrazo, un beso eterno o una promesa para toda la vida, pero como es sabido por quién ha vivido a la mala nos damos de cara contra la realidad.

En mi vida mayormente he sido el herido y me han condenado a muerte con una condena de olvido, no obstante también he sido verdugo no por placer si no por descuido.

No tengo reparo en decir que he roto corazones porque me arrepiento de cada uno de ellos. Pero soy cobarde y aunque condené su cariño a nunca ser correspondido no soy capas de pedirles disculpas, por eso, por este medio y como testigo quien me lea les agradezco amarme sin esperar nada a cambio, permitirme sentir su calidez su genuina preocupación, alegría y lujuria por mí; como es obvio no lo merecía y tampoco lo merezco, puede que en otra vida fuimos felices y entre promesas llegamos a ser uno.

A todas las víctimas y a todos los verdugos les recuerdo que el amor es ingrato y muchas veces le estregamos todo a quien por nosotros no tiene destinado más que sobras de atención, por eso y hasta que encontremos la otra punta del hilo rojo no tengan miedo de herir o ser heridos porque más vale una vida de dolores que sin amores.

Siempre suyo, Cristian Camilo

[goalhofer]

2024 olympics Dominican Republic roster

Athletics

Robert King (Santo Domingo)

Erick Sánchez (Azua De Compostela)

José González (Santo Domingo)

Alexander Ogando (San Juan De La Maguana)

Yeral Nuñez (La Romana)

Milagros Durán (San Pedro De Macorís)

Franchina Martínez (Santo Domingo)

Marileidy Paulino (Don Gregorio)

Anabel Medina (Santo Domingo)

Boxing

Junior Alcántara (Salvaleón De Higüey)

Cristian Pinales (La Romana)

María Moronta (Santo Domingo)

Diving

Frandiel Gómez (San Felipe De Puerto Plata)

José Ruvalcaba (León De Los Aldama, Mexico)

Victoria Garza (Saltillo, Mexico)

Equestrian

Yvonne Losos (Santo Domingo)

Gymnastics

Audreys Nin (Santa Cruz De Barahona)

Judo

Robert Florentino (San Juan De La Maguana)

Moira Morillo (Santo Domingo)

Shooting

Eduardo Lorenzo (Santiago De Los Caballeros)

Soccer

Josué Báez (Santo Domingo)

Ángel Montes (San Juan De La Maguana)

Enrique Bösl (Kösching, Germany)

Nelson Lemaire (Schaarbeek, Belgium)

Thomas Jungbauer (Jarabacoa)

Xavier Valdez (Faribault, Minnesota)

Francisco Reyes (Santiago De Los Caballeros)

Edgar Pujol (Sabadell, Spain)

Luiyi De Lucas (Galván)

Heinz Mörschel (Frankfurt, Germany)

Óscar Ureña (Figueres, Spain)

Rafael Núñez (Madrid, Spain)

Edison Azcona (Boca Raton, Florida)

Peter González (Madrid, Spain)

Joao Urbáez (Móstoles, Spain)

José De La Cruz (Rubí, Spain)

Fabian Messina (Stuttgart, Germany)

José De León (Madrid, Spain)

Nowend Lorenzo (Santo Domingo)

Swimming

Javier Núñez (Santo Domingo)

Elizabeth Jiménez (Santo Domingo)

Taekwondo

Bernardo Pié (Bayaguana)

Madelyn Rodríguez (Santiago De Los Caballeros)

Volleyball

Alondra Tapia (La Vega)

Geraldine González (Santo Domingo)

Madeline Guillén (Santo Domingo)

Cándida Arias (Santo Domingo)

Brenda Castillo (Santo Domingo)

Ariana Rodríguez (Miami, Florida)

Niverka Marte (Santo Domingo)

Yonkaira Peña (Santo Domingo)

Bethania De La Cruz (Santo Domingo)

Brayelin Martínez (Santo Domingo)

Jineiry Martínez (Santo Domingo)

Gaila González (Santo Domingo)

Weightlifting

Beatriz Pirón (San Pedro De Macorís)

Yudelina Mejía (Santo Domingo)

Crismery Santana (San Pedro De Macorís)

Wrestling

Luis Pérez (Santo Domingo)

[turtleterrain]

portrait of wixarika (huichol) marakame, or shaman, guadalupe de la cruz rios (right), don domingo (left) and dona manuela holding her great-grandson cristian in her lap (center). manuela and guadalupe wear their vestuarios (traditional ceremonial clothing) as they sit in preparation for the annual wixarika (huichol) pilgrimage to wirikuta (wiricuta), in nayarit, mexico. guadalupe also holds her bulto (bundle of ceremonial objects) in her lap

[ares-49789]

Cap 15

13/3/2018, 9:47, Alicante

El coche azul se detuvo frente a una iglesia, hacía sol, pero el ambiente seguía frío, Cristian vestía un traje negro y una camisa blanca debajo, el hombre se arregló en el espejo del parasol del asiento del conductor un pasador de corbata dorado que mostraba la cruz de los templarios en un rojo intenso que resaltaba en el traje oscuro, con el rabillo de su ojo vió una forma moverse a su lado

-¿Me repites lo que hacemos aquí?- preguntó Faistos, el kwami llevaba todo el viaje de más de una hora metido en la guantera del coche para evitar miradas indiscretas

-Antonio es amigo mío - dijo el hombre, poniendo un reloj sobre la pulsera que siempre adornaba su muñeca derecha -Si su hija muere tengo que acompañarlo

-Llevas 45 años sin verlo, ¿se acordará de tí?- preguntó Faistos, haciendo que Cristian suspirara

-Se que no nos despedimos en los mejores términos, Faistos, pero hay que hacer lo que se debe, es mi cuñado después de todo-dijo el hombre

-El no fue tan considerado cuando te echó, ¿O sí?- inquirió el kwami, y Cristian asintió dándole la razón, era verdad que la relación no había sido la mejor al final, pero la gente cambiaba con los años, eso era lo que la vida le había enseñado

-Todos estaban asustados para entonces- dijo el hombre - sus acciones no eran suyas y se sentían traicionados

-¿Y tú no?- preguntó Faistos - Hablamos de tu padre aquí, los humanos siempre son rápidos a la hora de señalar dedos a aquellos que les conviene

-Los humanos - corrigió Cristian - somos lo que el mundo hace de nosotros, fin de la conversación - el hombre abrió la puerta del Kia Río y salió, cerrando la puerta tras de sí mismo

Miró su reloj, el reloj que le decía que faltaban 10 minutos para la misa, Cristian entró a la puerta de San Vicente Ferrer, la parroquia era pequeña, con las paredes interiores cubiertas de mármol blanco, cuatro columnas que separaban la cámara principal de las secundarias, la iglesia apenas tenía espacio para veinte filas de dos bancos, indudablemente era más una iglesia a la que solo las viejas del barrio asistirían los domingos a misa

Y ahí, frente al altar, dos apoyos de hierro negro estaban en pie, esperando pacientemente al ataúd que deberían sostener, había gente en la iglesia, unas cincuenta personas por el momento y seguían entrando, había de todas las edades y géneros, amigos de la familia, amigos de la difunta, etc..., notó algunas miradas de confusión dirigidas hacia él así que decidió irse a un lugar apartado

Cristian se apartó de la entrada y fue a apoyarse en una de las columnas, en la nave secundaria junto a un pequeño altar que mostraba la estatua ya entrada en años del arcángel San Miguel con una espada en llamas en sus manos, entonces notó dos toques ligeros en el hombro derecho

El hombre se giró para ver quién era el que se dignaba a acercarse a él por la espalda, reconoció la calva al instante

-¿Que tal, Cristian?- preguntó el hombre, unos años más joven que él

-Muy bien, ¿Cómo es que el ocupado presidente de la OH se digna a aparecer en un pueblucho como este?- Pablo Emilio sonrió y miró al altar

-Cuando la hija de tu compañero de barraca muere en acción tienes un deber social y moral para acudir - dijo el hombre, metiendo sus manos en los bolsillos de sus pantalones, Cristian levantó

-¿Es por eso que apareciste en Yecla para el funeral de mi hijo?- preguntó el hombre

-Lo de tu hijo era especial - dijo el hombre - Ambos fuisteis amigos míos que me ayudaron en situaciones muy difíciles, sabes que eso no cambiará nunca

-Dios te oiga- murmuró Cristian, viendo cómo por la gran puerta de la iglesia empezaba a entrar una pequeña procesión, un total de ocho hombres avanzaban por el centro del pasillo formado por los bancos

Iban lentos, seis de ellos caminaban portando en sus hombros el ataúd, los otros dos eran el cura y el padre de la difunta, Antonio Villalba, habían pasado 45 años desde la última vez que lo había visto

"está gordo" pensó, viendo al hombre de lado, también había perdido mucho pelo, pero su piel seguía tan pálida como siempre lo había sido, parecía un guiri recién llegado con esa piel, su mente lo llevó a los viejos tiempos cuando iban en verano a la playa y su amigo siempre acababa más rojo que una langosta con mantequilla, el hombre parecía triste, normal, después de todo, su única hija había fallecido, pero aún así, ni una sola lágrima escapaba de sus ojos

La misa pasó, ominosa, llena de sentimiento, muchas personas lloraban sentadas en los bancos, pero Cristian y Pablo Emilio no, no habían conocido a la mujer personalmente, así que no tenían mucho por lo que llorar, y así, cuando la misa terminó, los seis hombres cargaron el ataúd fuera de la iglesia para cargarlo al coche fúnebre aparcado frente a la iglesia

La gente comenzó a procesionar a la primera fila de bancos, donde la familia y amigos cercanos se encontraban, un total de cinco personas se encontraban ahí, de pie y recibiendo las condolencias, vestidos de negro, primero, un hombre pelirrojo y de estatura media, arreglado pero con ojeras, su brazo izquierdo en cabestrillo y señales de quemado en su cuello y cara, así como pequeños vendajes que cubrían heridas leves en la cara y Cristian estaba seguro de que su brazo derecho también estaba vendado bajo la manga del traje

Junto a él se encontraban un hombre más musculoso y alto, de pelo rubio con mechas azules y una mujer de pelo castaño, bastante baja en comparación al titán que tenía a su lado, además de ellos tres, que Cristian pudo reconocer como Foc, Aigua y Terra, también se encontraban Antonio y, en sus brazos, una niña pequeña, no mayor de 10 años y pelo plateado, se parecía mucho a María Dolores cuando era joven, aunque tenía el color de pelo de su hermana, parecía que era la hija de su sobrina

La fila de gente dando el pésame llegaba a su fin y Cristian comenzó a notar la mirada de la gente en su nuca, y entonces llegó su turno

-Lo siento mucho- dijo, dando la mano a los dos miembros masculinos de Elementals, su voz hizo que Antonio, más preocupado en recibir el pésame de otra persona, girará automáticamente su mirada hacia el, con una mezcla de confusión, miedo, angustia y tristeza... Y entonces llegó hasta él, Cristian miró a los ojos marrones del hombre frente a él - Lo siento mucho Antonio - dijo Cristian, recibiendo la mirada de las personas mayores de la sala

Una vez salió de la multitud, Cristian miró hacia atrás para ver qué Pablo Emilio lo había seguido después de dar el pésame de forma ensayada y perfecta, tanto que había parecido que él mismo se encontraba roto por la pérdida de la superheroína

-No quiero saber todos los funerales a los que has asistido para llegar a tal perfección- dijo Cristian, saliendo de la iglesia, el coche fúnebre seguía ahí, esperando a la familia para acompañarlo al cementerio

-La mía es una línea de trabajo muy peligrosa- comentó Pablo Emilio- ¿Vas a venir al cementerio? Antonio lo necesitaría- Cristian sonrió tristemente ante la proposición

-Cuando mi cuñada y su mujer murió no apareció, ��Crees que de verdad querrá verme ahora?- preguntó el hombre

-En lo absoluto, pero creo que es lo que necesita- dijo Pablo Emilio, cruzando la acera junto a Cristian- después de todo, el también tiene que hacerse cargo de su nieta ahora, ya tenéis algo en común

-¿Que hay del padre de la niña? - preguntó Cristian

-No se sabe quién es - contestó Pablo, mirando a la gente salir de la iglesia

-Iré- dijo Cristian- ¿quieres venir en mi coche?- preguntó, señalando al coche no muy lejos de donde estaban

-¿Quieres llevar al presidente de una organización que acaba con los villanos en un coche sin blindaje y con ventanas claras?- preguntó el hombre, levantando una oreja

-Ese es el plan- contestó Cristian

-Entonces a que esperamos, vamos antes de que mis guardaespaldas se den cuenta de que ya he salido- dijo el hombre

-¿Que clase de guardaespaldas dejan que su contratante se escabulla sin darse cuenta?- Preguntó Cristian, Pablo solo levantó su mano derecha y se la mostró a Cristian, antes de que esta, junto al resto del brazo y la manga del traje desapareciera -Se me olvidaba que podías hacer eso- dijo el hombre, antes de andar hacia el coche

.............................................................................................................

El resto del entierro fue como debería, de las personas que habían asistido a la iglesia solo cerca de dos docenas siguieron al coche fúnebre hasta el cementerio

El sol se había ocultado tras una nube volviendo el cementerio oscuro a pesar de que apenas eran las 11 de la mañana, mientras los enterradores sellaban el nicho con la tapadera blanca que servía de placa temporal la gente empezó a irse, hasta que el número de personas frente a la recién terminada tumba se redujo solo a siete, esto incluía a los miembros de elementals, la familia de la chica, Cristian y Pablo

Cristian se acercó a Antonio lentamente pero sin parar, hasta que estaba justo en frente de él, sabía que lo había visto, notaba su mirada enrojecida por contener las lágrimas dirigida hacia él, hacia su traje negro, hacia su bigote y hacia su gorro

-Lo siento mucho Antonio - dijo Cristian, tendiendo la mano a su más antiguo amigo, Antonio golpeó el pecho de Cristian con todas sus fuerzas

-¿Cómo te atreves?- preguntó el hombre, su voz inundada de tristeza e ira a partes iguales -I'm mujer murió, la hermana de tu mujer y no vi ni un pelo de tu cabeza - dijo Antonio, su puño aún seguía apoyando en el pecho de Cristian

-Lo sé, lo siento - se disculpó Cristian, poniendo su mano en el hombro de su amigo -Pero ahora estoy aquí- dijo - puedes desahogarte por estos cuarenta años

-Eres un idiota- dijo el hombre, golpeando el hombro de su amigo, lágrimas comenzando a caer de sus ojos, lágrimas tanto por su hija como por todos los sentimientos reprimidos a lo largo de los años -te fuiste - dijo- te largaste como un cobarde - las palabras se intercambiaban puestos con suspiros y respiraciones fuertes - no te defendiste, no hiciste nada

-No había nada con lo que defenderme- dijo Cristian - lo que hizo mi padre... Fue imperdonable- Antonio negó con la cabeza

-Tu padre no hizo nada - dijo, sonriendo entre las lágrimas -Siempre nos trató bien, a mí, a Pablo, a todos en el pueblo, todos sabíamos en el fondo... Que no fue él- era el turno de Cristian para sentirse confundido

-Salva vino hace unos años - explicó Antonio- dijo que tenía algo para tí, quería... Quería que te lo diera - Antonio se secó las lágrimas -Creí que nunca podría dártelo- dijo

-¿Y donde está?- preguntó Cristian mirando a su amigo en los ojos

-Está en el Saint Anthony- dijo el hombre más grande - lo guardé ahí para tí

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Introducción | Arcos

[torosytoreros6]

En Villaseca de la Sagra… Emotivo festival en apoyo y homenaje a las víctimas de la DANA

Villaseca de la Sagra (Toledo). Festival benéfico en favor de los damnificados por la DANA. Novillos de La Olivilla, Toros de San Román, La Buitrera, Mariano de León, San Isidro, José Cruz, Juan Carlos García Rivera y Conde de Mayalde: al tercero, de La Buitrera, y al octavo de Conde de Mayalde, fueron premiados con la vuelta al ruedo. Esaú Fernández: Ovación. Cristian Escribano: Ovación. Álvaro…

[zaydabuzaydrp]

Abu Zayd, più precisamente Zayd Abu Zayd Ab-Alh-Rahmann III, meglio conosciuto come "il Moro Zeyt", è un altro dei grandi protagonisti della nascita del Regno cristiano di Valencia.

Ultimo signore almohade di Valencia, era il pronipote del califfo berbero Abd-Al-Mucmin. Pur essendo originario di Baeza, era stato avviato alla politica dal nipote, il califfo Yusuf II, che lo nominò governatore di Valencia.

L’ultimo re almohade di Valencia vide presto sorgere problemi, sia per la pressione delle truppe cristiane a nord sia per quella di altri signori musulmani a sud. Insieme alla corruzione politica, che già esisteva all’epoca, avevano soffocato il popolo.

Dopo la morte del califfo Yusuf II, la decadenza politica si aggravò. Fu allora che Abu Zayd fu costretto a chiedere la protezione di Ferdinando III, il re santo di Castiglia. I raccolti rovinati da una piaga di cavallette e la mancanza di cibo incoraggiarono la ribellione della popolazione. In questa situazione, Zayyan Ibn Mardanis, discendente del re Lobo, arrivò a Valencia da Onda e guidò il rovesciamento di Abu Zayd, che dovette lasciare la città con il suo seguito e la sua famiglia nel 1229, diretto a Segorbe (Castellón).

Qui storia e leggenda si fondono, poiché si dice che la conversione del "moro Zeyt" sia avvenuta a Caravaca de la Cruz, dove la leggenda vuole che sia apparso il simbolo della croce.

Secondo la tradizione locale più diffusa, si dice che dalla fine del 1230 o all’inizio del 1231, il re almohade di Valencia e Murcia, Abu Zayd, si trovava nei suoi possedimenti a Caravaca. Interrogò i cristiani che teneva prigionieri per scoprire quali mestieri esercitassero, con l’obiettivo di occuparli secondo le loro capacità. Tra loro c’era il sacerdote Ginés Pérez Chirinos che, come missionario, era venuto da Cuenca nelle terre saracene per predicare il Vangelo. Egli rispose che il suo compito era quello di celebrare la messa e il re moresco voleva sapere com’era. Fu ordinato di portare da Cuenca i paramenti corrispondenti e il 3 maggio 1232, nella sala nobile della fortezza, il sacerdote iniziò la liturgia. Tuttavia, poco dopo aver iniziato la liturgia, dovette fermarsi, spiegando che gli era impossibile continuare perché mancava un elemento essenziale all’altare: un crocifisso.

In quel momento, attraverso una finestra della stanza, due angeli scesero dal cielo e posero delicatamente una croce a due bracci sull’altare. Il sacerdote poté quindi continuare la celebrazione della messa e, in presenza di tale meraviglia, Abu-Ceyt (insieme ai membri della sua corte presenti) si convertì al cristianesimo. In seguito si scoprì che la croce apparsa era il pettorale del vescovo Roberto, primo patriarca di Gerusalemme, realizzato con il legno della croce dove morì Gesù Cristo.

Quando Abu Zayd si convertì, prese il nome di Vicente Bellvís, come riportano le cronache dell’epoca. Morì tra il 1265 e il 1270.

La morte di Abu-Zayd è precedente all’11 dicembre 1268, data in cui il documento lo dichiara defunto. I suoi figli e parenti ricevettero un’importante eredità e, essendo imparentati con la nobiltà aragonese, divennero anch’essi signori cristiani.

QUI GIACE D. VICENTIUS BELVIS CON I SUOI ​​FIGLI UN TEMPO ZEIT ABUSIÒ RE VALENTIA MAURUS ADEO IL PROTETTORE DELLA SUA RELIGIONE VT DUE UOMINI INNOCENTI BEATI GIOVANNI DI PERUSIA E PIETRO DI SASSO-FERRATICO FIGLI E COMPAGNI DI PADRE FRANCESCO CHE PREDICANO LA VERA FEDE DI CRISTO OTTENUTO ATTRAVERSO LA SPADA MA RICEVERE LA LUCE DEL PADRE ISPIRATORE OGNI PECCATO FU CONSUMATO DAL SANTO BATTESIMO E IL SEGNO DELL’ETERNA RICONCILIAZIONE EGLI DESTINÒ UNA VOLTA LA SUA SALA IN CHIESA E SEDE.

Intorno al 16 giugno 1860, a Valencia fu eretta una lapide che lasciava in vista alcuni resti umani, il cui stato denotava la loro antichità. Nello stesso luogo fu rinvenuta una pergamena che recitava come segue:

Data di nascita:

17 ottobre 1195

Data di morte:

11 dicembre 1268

Titoli:

-Principe musulmano

-Signore cristiano

Etnia:

Berbero

Religione:

Islam

Religione 2:

Cristiano cattolico

Dinastia:

Almohade

Prestavolti nella trama:

-Alvaro Rico

-Walid Azaro

-Asier Cadenas

-David Raya

-Marco Mengoni

-Stephen Ammell

-Peter Porte (pv attuale)

[elsoldesantiago]

Nuevos exaltados llegan a la inmortalidad con broche de oro

SANTO DOMINGO. El Pabellón de la Fama retribuyó este domingo la contribución al deporte y al país de Felix Manuel Díaz, Víctor Estrella, Ana Villanueva, Wendy Santana, Mayo Sibilia, Luis Ángel Montalvo, Octavio Dotel, José Armando Castillo, Cristian Cruz, Joel Ramírez y Fernando Hernández. Los deportistas, entre ellos los propulsores Sibilia y Montalvo, terminan de esculpir su obra deportiva al…

[grupo-enmascarada-carnaval]

Esta tarde, a las 19:00 horas, el Auditorio Juan Carlos I de Arafo se convertirá en el epicentro del carnaval al acoger la gala final que determinará quién será la representante de los diseñadores Cristian y Yanira Santana en la búsqueda de la Reina del Carnaval de Santa Cruz de Tenerife 2025, bajo la representación