#damiá

[the-save-place-art]

Calm life and evenings vibes.

[aschenblumen]

El silencio se construye igual que se adquiere el lenguaje. Ese silencio retórico puede, sin duda, ayudar retrospectivamente, puede servir de máscara, de barrera, de capa, de renuencia tácita, de pudor, de secreto, pero la retórica que penetra en la esencia de las cosas las transforma sin excepción, y esa metamorfosis es tan irremediable como el odio virulento e indefinido con que Poseidón rodea a Ulises en el transcurso de los varios naufragios que componen su errar. El ejercicio común del lenguaje divide. Su rostro verdadero es el diálogo. El silencio, colocado ahora en un segundo plano, no es más que una fuga imposible de la mediación que aquel impone.

—Pascal Quignard, «3. Bacon a Lord Chandos» en La respuesta a Lord Chandos. Traducción de Ester Quirós Damiá.

[buscandoelparaiso]

anche damiano é pronto

[justsome-di]

Nobody Ends Up Dead in a Bathtub, Everyone Keeps Their Organs: Chapter 25

Summary: Alex is an ordinary, highly-introverted office worker. He clocks in and out and goes home to his little apartment he shares with his younger sister. He hasn’t dated in years by the time his co-workers set him up on a blind date.

The only issue is he and his date are not on the same page. At all.

While Alex thinks it’s a normal date, Damián is under the impression Alex is a client who paid to be there. No-so-quickly, they realize something is up. It’s all a prank. Damián is a sex worker Alex’s co-workers hired as a sick joke.

After reassuring that they’re both okay, Alex decides he wants revenge for both him and Damián. The plan is to use the stigma of sex work and start a 6-week, scandalous fake dating scheme with a big finale at the office Halloween party. Alex’s co-workers will be too horrified to try to prank him again. At least, that’s the plan.

You can also read this on AO3. If you don’t want to wait for new chapters, the complete story is on Patreon for only $4 with bonus stories! If you’re enjoying the story and want to support me in other ways, consider dropping me a message in my inbox or reblogging this post!

Damián and Alex met Martin before he had the chance to leave the office. He looked at them like he was being held up against his will. Which he was, technically.

“This is us apologizing,” Alex said. “We’re sorry.”

“We’re really sorry,” Damián said. “If it makes anything better, I’d like to re-introduce myself. Properly.”

Martin’s brow was furrowed, but it looked forced. Like he wanted to be more upset than he really was.

“Okay,” he said.

“I’m Damián. I’m Alex’s friend. We have a plan at the end of the month to trick your co-workers into thinking we’re dating as payback for a nasty prank some of them pulled.”

Martin nodded. “I’m Martin. I’m one of those co-workers who pulled that nasty prank.”

“I’m Alex, we’ve known each other for a while.”

It got a little laugh out of Martin.

“We’re sorry we didn’t tell you about any of this,” Damián said. “It went further than we thought it would. I think eventually we would have let you in on it before the party.”

“It’s fine.” Martin looked a bit sheepish. “I’m sorry Alex told me your real name.”

Alex didn’t know why Martin was apologizing for that.

“That’s fine if you know,” Damián said. “I just really need you to keep it between us.”

“I will!” Martin’s eyes were wide all of a sudden with Damián’s safety back on the table. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Alex didn’t remind Martin of his involvement in the prank. Martin had turned over a new leaf. If anything, it made the revenge that much better. Alex was getting a somewhat-partner and a new friend out of it.

“Can we still invite you guys over if we’re hosting friends?” Martin asked.

Damián looked to Alex, who nodded.

“Yeah,” Damián said. “I don’t see any harm in it. Can we just keep the whole revenge thing on the down-low in front of everyone?”

“’Course,” Martin said. “And if the plan ever becomes more than a plan, and if you’re ever anything real, then we can just all pretend like it was real to begin with. It’ll be between us three.”

Martin smiled at them, and then the bastard walked away. Alex wanted to jump out of the window.

“Did you tell him anything?” Damián asked. “About this weekend? It’s fine if you did, but—”

“No. He’s just being a brat. I’ll fill you in on something else later.”

They let it go. Alex believed it was gentle teasing. He didn’t want to have to talk about the weekend just yet. It made him nervous to think about how Damián must have felt after some time had passed.

That entire Monday morning, he had started to wonder if Damián could have regretted it or found the whole thing disappointing. There was no real reason to. Damián had never given him any hints that he hadn’t enjoyed himself. But it didn’t stop Alex from making up scenarios in his head, only tamed when Damián turned to him with a smile.  

“We eat out a lot,” Damián said like they had married for years and were in desperate need of better habits. “Why don’t I cook for us?”

It had been ages since someone had cooked for Alex. And the last person to do so was his mother.

“Okay. What are you making?”

“Arroz con pollo? Chicken and rice. It’s cozy. I’ll make enough for Eve and Leo, too, if they want to join us.”

It sounded almost perfect. Like they were actually a little family with just one minor issue.

“I don’t think Leo likes me very much,” Alex said.

“What? You’ve barely met.” Alex could tell Damián was lying. He rolled his eyes. “Leo was just in a bad mood that one day. I’ll threaten him so he’s on his best behavior.”

Alex considered it. Worst case scenario, Leo would never like him and dinner would be painful. Best case scenario, Leo would tolerate him like a cat and they would sit in silence while Alex would never be on good terms with his boyfriend’s brother. God, were they boyfriends? Alex wasn’t ready for that word. He played it over in his head until he decided against it.

He would never be on good terms with his current romantic interest’s brother. Yeah. That sounded better.

They stopped for groceries and while Damián made him hold rice and an onion, Alex worried that Leo would still be cold towards him over dinner. Maybe Leo thought he was a pervert and maybe Leo didn’t know that there was something genuine happening between him and Damián.

By the time Damián was almost finished with dinner, Eve and Leo had arrived and Alex was worked up like a chihuahua. Leo walked right past Alex and to the stove.

“What did you make?” he asked.

“Arroz con pollo.”

“Hell yeah,” Leo said. “Is it done?”

“It’ll be done by the time you set the table for our guests.”

And that was all it took to get Leo to pull plates from the cupboard and start laying them out.

Eve sat down next to Alex, stiff and awkward herself. They were clearly siblings when you looked at them. Noses that bumped out at the bridge. Hair that couldn’t decide if it wanted to curl or lay flat. Warm, brown eyes that had a tendency to look like they belonged to homeless, orphan puppies. And their complete lack of social skills when they were caught off guard by a spontaneous dinner invitation.

“How was studying?” Alex asked.

“Fine.”

“Getting anywhere?”

“She’s doing really well,” Leo said. “I think she’ll pass her exam.”

Eve shrugged. Alex squeezed her shoulder. “You’ll do fine.”

“You’ll do fine!” Damián cheered. He set the pan of arroz con pollo in the middle of the table. “And even if you don’t, it’s not the end of the world.”

“Right,” Alex agreed.

Leo set glasses of water in front of everyone. “She’ll do fine. I’m tutoring her.”

“Of course,” Damián said.

He reached over to pinch Leo’s cheek, grabbing as much of his face as he could. But Leo recoiled and shrugged him off. Alex could see Damián looked hurt despite his smile widening. It was a sort of a tell, Alex decided. Damián could smile so much, but Alex had started to understand that it was often forced.

Alex tried lifting the mood as best as he could, though it was clear that it was not his strong suit at all. He complimented Damián on the meal—which was the best chicken and rice he had ever had in his life. He assumed it was because he had never had chicken seasoned so well before, but he was too embarrassed to confess to that out loud. Especially after Leo had asked Damián if he remembered the time his white ex-boyfriend had raved about arroz con pollo. Damián laughed and said white people were so funny about chicken and rice.

Alex tried asking Leo about grad school, but Leo barely talked. He answered Alex in short, usually one-word sentences. Had he been accepted anywhere yet? Yes. Had he made a decision about where he was going? No. Did he want to stay in the area?

To that, Leo had rolled his eyes. Damián answered for him.

“He’s applied to schools all over, but he’s being very secretive about it on top of acting like a moody teenager.”

“Isn’t my business where I’m going?”

Damián shot Leo a warning look, and Leo immediately tucked his head down into his plate. Alex imagined having any power like that over Eve. Eve did whatever she wanted whenever she wanted. Their parents couldn’t even get a handle on her. Everyone was lucky that her interests were contained to coding and thrift shopping for grunge looks and shaving her head rather than arson or grand theft auto.

Eve took up the conversation from there, talking about the classes she was actually passing. And when she finished recapping her week so far, she asked Damián what kind of appointments he had lately. She was curious, and so was Alex.

“I did have an interesting client last week,” Damián said.

“Interesting in a good way?” Alex asked.

“Interesting in an ‘I thought I might die for a few minutes, but it was all fine.’” Damián folded his fingers together and laid his chin on top of them. “I was trying to leave this guy’s house, and he was being a little weird. And I just thought, okay, this was this guy’s first time with a sex worker. It’s fine. People can get awkward. But I really need to get out of there, and he’s asking me if this is something we can do again. I tell him of course, he’d just have to make an appointment like he just did for this one.

“But he starts getting a little manic. And I was kinda starting to think, fuck, I hope this guy is okay. He’s talking a lot, and I’m just trying to pick my clothes up off the floor. I’m thinking that maybe I shouldn’t meet up with him again. And I’m standing there, almost naked, holding my clothes, and I hear someone in the house.”

“Fuck,” Eve gasped.

“I ask him if he lives with anyone, and his face is totally pale. And then this woman walks in. And she looks at me, and she looks at my client, and I realized, fuck, this is his wife. We’re all just standing there staring at each other. I’m fucking naked. My client is fucking naked. His wife is standing there staring at us.

“And this woman—this poor, poor woman—is trying to ask what’s going on, but she just’s kinda gasping. And I have definitely hooked up with people before who have spouses, but this is my first time meeting the spouse. Also, this might be how this wife is realizing her husband is gay—which, fuck.

“So I just kinda. Shuffle out of the room. And I get dressed in their fucking kitchen, and I call an Uber. And it was chilly outside, so I waited in their kitchen until I could dive into this car and make my getaway. And they start yelling as I’m waiting, and it sounds insane. Why wouldn’t it be? But I hear it escalating, and I’m watching Hernando take a wrong turn to get to me, and I was like, Hernando, you have one job. Get here right now, or I’ll give you one star.”

“Oh my god,” Alex said. “That’s awful.”

“I wasn’t serious. I gave him five stars and a nice tip.”

“No, not Hernando. This woman.”

“Oh. Yeah. I hope she’s getting out of that marriage.”

Eve laughed. She pressed her hands to her cheeks and over her mouth as if she was embarrassed. “That sucks for her. That had to be the worst day of her life.”

“Why are you laughing at her then?” Leo asked.

“I don’t know. I’m not laughing because it’s funny.”

Leo turned to Alex and looked at him critically like he had the first time they met. Damián kept his eye on Leo. Eve was trying to calm herself.

“So, was it worse than finding out you were hired as a prank?” Leo directed the question to Damián, but he was staring at Alex.

“Yes,” Damián said, firmly.

“I want to know how awkward Alex was.”

“Leo, stop.”

Alex was red and pushing a grain of rice around on his plate. Eve had gone quiet. She looked at Alex and then at Leo and then at Damián.

“I don’t want to hear about my brother being with a sex worker,” she said. “No offense. It’s not the sex worker thing. It’s the sex thing. I don’t like thinking about my brother having sex.”

“I don’t think any of us should be talking about it. It’s between me and Alex,” Damián said. “Leo, help me clean up.”

Leo managed to stand with an attitude. He pushed his chair back and took plates.

“I think the four of us could be good friends,” Eve said. “Like a polycule but for friends.”

“That’s just called having friends,” Alex said.

Friends. He let his mind settle on that. Friends.

[bookishnerdlove]

ILM - Capítulo 244

'No. No puedo.' Akkard inconscientemente se levantó la manga y trató de ocultar las huellas en el mantel. Era una especie de mecanismo de defensa para borrar su debilidad. Pero las gotas de agua que caían sobre la mesa seguían aumentando una a una. Incluso sabiendo que era un esfuerzo inútil, Akkard forzó la vista, tratando desesperadamente de borrar las huellas. No quería revelarle nada más de su fealdad a Damia. Quizás su más sincero deseo funcionó, porque las huellas húmedas en la mesa finalmente habían cesado. Sin embargo, no se atrevió a levantar la cabeza y comprobar su expresión. Akkard apretó los dientes obstinadamente y miró fijamente la lamentable mesa. Luego, al cabo de un rato, una mano pálida y delicada le tendió un pañuelo suave. “…….” Damiá guardó silencio. Ella no dijo una palabra. Entonces Akkard se puso ansioso. '¿Crees que soy un tipo patético?' Siendo una persona que había sido tan ostentosa, engreída, arrogante, sarcástica y que había tratado de ejercerla sin tenerla en cuenta, no había manera de que ella lo mirara con amabilidad si él protestaba con lágrimas. Sus hombros, que siempre habían sido fuertes y orgullosos, ahora estaban flojos y sin vida. La mano de Damia acercó el pañuelo como diciéndole que lo tomara rápido. Aunque podría haber rechazado su oferta, no se atrevió. Akkard vaciló con los ojos inyectados en sangre y cogió el pañuelo de su mano extendida. Crujido- Con el sonido de las telas y el roce de su vestido, Damiá se levantó. Y su sombra, proyectada por el sol de la tarde, lo envolvió. La razón por la que incluso esa silueta oscura se sentía terriblemente hermosa, ¿es porque sus ojos son decididamente locos? La cabeza de Akkard estaba gacha y la miraba con ojos doloridos. Entonces su sombra tocó sus labios. "… … Lo lamento. Si supieras cómo cambiar el pasado, tal vez las cosas hubieran sido diferentes. Pero no puedes”. Ese fue el final. Damia, que dijo todo lo que tenía que decir, se fue. "Ciertamente estaba llorando". Pensó Damia. Ella siempre pensó que Akkard era un hombre de belleza agresiva. Su apariencia no era tan cómoda como simplemente admirar hermosas flores o una elegante estatua. En cambio, era lo suficientemente abrumador como para hacer que a uno le dolieran los ojos y le hormiguearan y hacer que el espectador jadeara, incapaz de respirar por completo. Una vez que su intensa mirada sostuvo la tuya, fue como ser absorbida. En el momento en que las mujeres experimentaron esto, se enamoraron de Akkard. Así que era natural que pudiera tener a cualquier mujer que deseara con esa belleza. Sin embargo… … . "Creo que su cara de llanto es más bonita". Damia pensó sin comprender. Habían pasado varios meses desde que conoció a Akkard, con quien inicialmente supuso que sólo tendría una relación de una noche. Vio a Akkard enojado, sonriendo encantadoramente e incluso gimiendo lascivamente en la cama. Pero ayer fue la primera vez que vio correctamente su cara de llanto. Sus cejas pobladas y afiladas se fruncieron y sus párpados se tiñeron inesperadamente de un color rosa claro. Sus labios fuertemente cerrados eran demasiado eróticos, y las gotas de agua que caían de los distorsionados ojos púrpuras brillaban y brillaban como joyas a la luz del sol. Pero, sobre todo, su rostro lloroso era tan especial porque era un hombre que aparentemente nunca lloraba. La apariencia vulnerable y débil de un hombre así era un recuerdo que Damia nunca olvidaría. “Damia…….” Damia recobró el sentido cuando una voz la llamó. Parecía que estaba más inmersa en sus pensamientos de lo que esperaba. De lo contrario, ¿cómo podría pensar en otra cosa en esta situación? "... ... madrastra". Damia llamó a la mujer sentada frente a ella con voz impasible. Entonces vio sus delgados hombros visiblemente contraídos. Al ver esto, Damia preguntó firmemente: “��Te sientes incómoda con mi dirección? Si es así... ¿Debería llamarla señorita Nora?” Al final de esas palabras, las lágrimas brotaron de Noela... no, de los ojos de Nora. Inicialmente era una ex esclava que nunca habría soñado con hacer contacto visual con Lady Damia, y mucho menos sentarse cara a cara con ella. Atrás Novelas Menú Siguiente   Read the full article

[witcheswhimsy]

This banner was made to honor my friend Aslan and their creation -the queer language Damiá. It's the "d" in the written form of the language called tolpata. You can find out more about this new language via @damiawordoftheday and @oncewewereislands on Insta.

All handstitched with fabrics from my stash. If you've been following past posts: I went with magenta due to the overwhelming suggestion to do so across various platforms. I like it but it popped less than I expected. The letter is quilted around in three rows, leaving a kind of ghost imprint on the backside that I am very happy about. Bit hard to see on a photo. Hopefully this will make it into a celebratory exhibition about Damiá in Finnland early next year.

IMAGE ID: Banner hanging in a doorway draped in plants. The banner is light blue with flowers in pink and yellow tones. Stitched onto this is a letter "d" in tolpata in a pink sequined glitter fabric. The second photo is of the back of the banner with only the very light trace of the quilted outline of the letter. The third letter is a closeup of the sequin part. END ID

[glitteronadumpsterfire]

Fans: *simping over Damiano*

Damiano him-fucking-self to all of us:

[gunnr-lp]

Lucrècia morta /  Dead Lucretia [1804]

Sculptor: Damià Campeny Housed: Museu Nacional d'Art de Catalunya

Photographer: Sebastià Giralt 

[las-microfisuras]

        A veces el tiempo se detiene en los brazos de los amantes. Es cierto. Y parece que sea el silencio. Y es cierto que es mejor que ellos callen, pero eso no es silencio: es el maravilloso murmullo de animales que se aman. Todos los sentidos se despliegan, se orquestan, se dilatan, se abren de par en par, retozan, desprenden olor, cantan. Es cierto que a ellos entonces les parece que sus destinos quedan olvidados, pero -si de verdad se pierden- es lo que los abre. Si su abandono es extremo, entonces algo se alza, crece, mana, rebosa, fluye. Incluso están a punto de abrirse a la muerte. Pero también es cierto que, de repente, pasado cierto tiempo, lo que se abre se cierra, que el deseo que los abría por completo los abandona. Digamos la verdad; acerquémonos a la verdad; el deseo abandona a los hombres en el seno de un verdadero silencio, de un auténtico silencio, de un espantoso silencio, cuando acaban sus alegrías. De igual manera el mar se retira de una playa y devuelve una larga extensión de arena y de rocas a la luz celeste. Y de repente, hay mucha más extensión y mucho más silencio.

- Pascal Quignard, La respuesta a Lord Chandos. Shangrila Textos Aparte. Traducción de Ester Quirós Damiá.

-  Michiko Kon, Mackerel and Pillow, 1979

[retrocouples]

5 favorite movies

Tagged by @veiloflonelystars (thanks for tagging me!)

• 2001: A Space Odyssey dir: Stanley Kubrick

• Persona, 1966 dir: Ingmar Bergman

• Her, 2013 dir: Spike Jonze

• Wild Tales, 2014 dir: Damiá Szifron

• Rashomon, 1950 dir: Akira Kurosawa

@l-amouur @iunearthlyy @lostinpersona @seaswalllowme @tamburina

[the-save-place-art]

Damiá...

[aschenblumen]

El silencio de la lengua, nostálgico del silencio de la infancia, ya ni siquiera hace referencia a lo que la infancia experimenta. Es solo una sombra de la lengua, al pie de la lengua, contiguo a la lengua. Y si se tratara realmente de restaurar las experiencias que fueron sentidas mucho antes de aprender la lengua hablada, es a la potencia de decirlo todo a lo que debería apelarse, en lugar de a la impotencia en el que se encierra un pseudo «silencio» (...).

Pascal Quignard, «3. Bacon a Lord Chandos» en La respuesta a Los Chandos. Traducción de Ester Quirós Damiá.

[laprincesa-blog]

El festival internacional  de cine de Cannes que celebra su 67º edición tendrá una fuerte presencia Latinoamérica. Con los argentinos  Damiá...

[universfaller-blog1]

Falla San Ignacio de Loyola Jesús y Maria Damos la ENHORABUENA a Emilio Damiá Vicente por su reelección como Presidente de nuestra comisión para el nuevo ejercicio. https://www.instagram.com/p/CAJ-TLJqGD-/?igshid=sr0v3i791594

[bookishnerdlove]

ILM - Capítulo 241

“¿Quizás unos meses? ¿Un año? Si tenemos suerte, tal vez incluso unos cuantos años”. “¿Pero después de eso? ¿Seguirás amándome en ese momento?” —Preguntó Damiá. Akkard, al darse cuenta de las implicaciones de esa descarada pregunta, palideció. "Tú... ... No confías en mí, ¿verdad?" "Sí." Damia respondió con la franqueza de un norteño. Por supuesto, ella no podía confiar en él. La boca de una persona podría mentir tantas veces como desee según la situación. Dar excusas sofisticadas o fingir sentirse culpable no sería difícil. Pero las acciones no mienten. Por lo tanto, es diez veces más engorroso y difícil demostrar consistentemente algo con acciones que decir grandes cosas. Por eso las acciones son más fiables que las palabras. Sin embargo, las acciones pasadas de Akkard lamentablemente no fueron muy confiables para Damia. “Sé que quizás ahora me ames un poco, tal vez incluso bastante. Pero no creo que el amor dure”. Damia lo miró directamente a los ojos y confesó. Sabía muy bien que no era buena jugando juegos de amor o entrenando hombres actuando como un zorro. Entonces Akkard se cansaría de ella muy rápidamente. No podría abandonar sus hábitos caninos, por lo que pronto recurriría a una mujer más joven y atractiva. Era un notorio playboy, por lo que le resultaría fácil seguir adelante con su corazón alegre. —¿Hasta qué punto puedes confiar en la sinceridad de un playboy? No, ¿un coqueto tiene sinceridad en primer lugar? Damia pensó con escepticismo. No podía entregar su corazón a una ilusión que pudiera existir. Especialmente alguien como ella que, una vez enamorada, no sólo entregó su corazón sino que tontamente lo dedicó todo. El único amor de Damia no fue correspondido, e incluso eso lo conservó durante más de diez años. Entonces, su vida después de ser traicionada por Akkard probablemente sería terriblemente larga y dolorosa. "Ahora no quiero volver a pasar por ese tipo de dolor". Por esa razón, el rostro de Akkard, al ser rechazado por Damia, quedó sin sangre. Se aferró a ella con urgencia como si estuviera a punto de caerse por un acantilado. “Yo… … sé que viví como basura, Damia. Pero todo fue un error tonto antes de conocerte. Lo juro por mi nombre, eres especial. Nunca pienso en ti con tanta facilidad como en cualquier otra mujer”. "¿Por qué? ¿Cuál es la diferencia entre otras mujeres y yo?” Damia preguntó en voz baja, sin temblar. Akkard se quedó brevemente sin palabras. ¿Cuál es la diferencia? No, sería más rápido preguntar qué es lo mismo. Nadie habla de cómo se parece el único sol. En cambio, hablarán de otras pequeñas cosas que se parecen al sol aunque sea en lo más mínimo. Damia era simplemente... ... Ella era única para él. Era su primera vez. Tener a alguien tan especial. Sintió que Damia era tan preciosa, que sólo ella podía cambiarlo y arruinarlo. Sin embargo, las palabras no podían expresar este sentimiento afectuoso, un sentimiento profundo y apasionado que no se podía comparar con nada. Sin palabras; las palabras que sabía eran demasiado comunes e insignificantes para expresar un sentimiento tan abrumador. “Por favor, Damiá. Yo, ahora… … no puedo estar sin ti”. Akkard extendió la mano, temblando, y le estrechó la mano. Y continuó sus palabras, tragando apenas un gran y doloroso nudo que seguía ahogándole la garganta. “Lo sé, soy un hombre en el que no puedes confiar. Las palabras nunca pueden superar las acciones. Y desafortunadamente para mí, no tengo palabras preparadas que puedan pesar más que mi pasado”. “…….” "No importa lo desesperadamente que te pida ahora mismo, no significará nada". Dicho esto, Akkard respiró hondo. Luego abrió sus labios temblorosos, apenas susurrando. “Pero Damia… no quiero a nadie más, sólo te quiero a ti. Incluso si te alejas de mí aquí, ninguna otra mujer podrá reemplazarte”. Fue su sinceridad más amarga y dolorosa, mostrar su vientre y abrirlo, ahora desnudo y vulnerable. Al escuchar esto, Damia bajó la mirada. El rostro de Akkard, quien tranquilamente confesó su corazón, parecía tan triste que no podía seguir mirándolo. Sería mentira si sus súplicas y llamamientos no conmovieran su corazón. Akkard Valerian era un hombre atractivo en todos los sentidos, y las confesiones de amor que escuchó de él fueron amargamente desgarradoras. Su corazón latía con fuerza y ​​palpitaba dolorosamente. Era como un diamante gigante; No importa cuán secreto y sangriento fuera el objeto, su valor no cambió. Además, fue el único hombre que Damia tuvo a su lado en sus momentos más difíciles. Él la consoló con sus palabras y la abrazó con su cuerpo grande y caliente. Un hombre que juró protegerla en su nombre. Un hombre que se preocupaba más por la pequeña herida en su cuello incluso después de que un cuchillo le atravesara el muslo. Incluso si fuera un capricho de un momento fugaz, ¿cómo podría su corazón no conmoverse? Incluso se convirtió en el 'primer hombre' con el que se acostó, así que por mucho que Damia intentara no mostrar afecto, no pudo evitar sentir algo por él. 'Yo... realmente me gustas más de lo que pensaba'. Atrás Novelas Menú Siguiente   Read the full article

[bookschallenge]

Las horas del silencio_ 1966. En alguna ciudad del sur de España, Ana, marquesa de Ganianza, le devuelve al obispo Damiá...