Era un aire suave, de pausados giros;
el hada Harmonía rimaba sus vuelos,
e iban frases vagas y tenues suspiros
entre los sollozos de los violoncelos.Sobre la terraza, junto a los ramajes,
diríase un  trémolo de liras eolias
cuando acariciaban los sedosos trajes,
sobre el tallo erguidas, las blancas magnolias.La marquesa Eulalia risas y desvíos
daba a un tiempo mismo para dos rivales:
el vizconde rubio de los desafíos
y el abate joven de los madrigales.Cerca, coronado con hojas de viña,
reía en su máscara Término barbudo,
y, como un efebo que fuese una niña,
mostraba una Diana su mármol desnudo.Y bajo un boscaje del amor palestra,
sobre el rico zócalo al modo de Jonia,
con un candelabro prendido en la diestra
volaba el mercurio de Juan de Bolonia.La orquesta parlaba sus mágicas notas;
un coro de sones alados se oía;
galantes pavanas, fugaces gavotas
cantaban los dulces violines de Hungría.Al oír las quejas de sus caballeros,
ríe, ríe, ríe la divina Eulalia,
pues son un tesoro las flechas de Eros,
el cinto de Cipria, la rueca de Onfalia. ¡Ay de quien sus mieles y frases recoja!
¡Ay de quien del canto de su amor se fíe!
Con sus ojos lindos y su boca roja,
la divina Eulalia ríe, ríe, ríe.Tiene azules ojos, es maligna y bella;
cuando mira, vierte viva luz extraña;
se asoma a las húmedas pupilas de estrella
el alma del rubio cristal de Champaña.Es noche de fiesta, y el baile de trajes
ostenta su gloria de triunfos mundanos.
La divina Eulalia, vestida de encajes,
una flor destroza con sus tersas manos.El teclado armónimo de su risa fina
a la alegre música de un pájaro iguala.
Con los staccati  de una bailarina
y las locas fugas de una colegiala.¡Amoroso pájaro que trinos exhala
bajo el ala a veces ocultando el pico;
que desdenes rudos lanza bajo el ala,
bajo el ala aleve del leve abanico!Cuando a media noche sus notas arranque
y en arpegios áureos gima Filomela,
y el ebúrneo cisne, sobre el quieto estanque,
como blanca góndola imprima su estela,la marquesa alegre llegará al boscaje,
boscaje que cubre la amable glorieta
donde han de estrecharla los brazos de un paje,
que siendo su paje será su poeta.Al compás de un canto de artista de Italia
que en la brisa errante la orquesta deslíe,
junto a los rivales, la divina Eulalia
la divina Eulalia ríe, ríe, ríe.¿Fue acaso en el tiempo del rey Luis de Francia,
sol con corte de astros, en campos de azur,
cuando los alcázares llenó de fragancia
la regia y pomposa rosa Pompadour?¿Fue cuando la bella su falda cogía
con dedos de ninfas, bailando el minué,
y de los compases el ritmo seguía
sobre el tacón rojo, lindo y leve pie?¿O cuando pastoras de floridos valles
ornaban con cintas sus albos corderos,
y oían, divinas Tirsis de Versalles,
las declaraciones de sus caballeros?¿Fue en ese buen tiempo de duques pastores,
de amantes princesas y tiernos galanes,
cuando entre sonrisas y perlas y flores
iban las casacas de los chambelanes?¿Fue acaso en el Norte o en el Mediodía?
Yo el tiempo y el día y el país ignoro;
pero sé que Eulalia ríe todavía,
¡y es cruel y eterna su risa de oro!

INDEX


                            Foreword

1  Despertación of Etréstles 13

2  Constitución New Government . 22

3  diabolic Intromisión 25

4  Kanti, the Corcel . 28

5  Ante the Council 30

6 Inauguración the Monument to Botsaris . 36

7  Losas abandoned 41

8  Satagénesis and Deidagénesis Four. Five

9   Enviados to Deidagénesis / Lepanto 52

10 Drestnia in Kalidona 56

11 Etréstles returns Lepanto 64

12 And the fourth cemetery 71

13 Top of the flight of Lucifer 79

14 In the crypt of the patriarchs 87

15 Etréstles part Valplacci 98

16 Etréstles fleet in the Ionian Sea 114

17 Near Messolonghi 120

18 A new era begins 123

19 Universal Era breaks 129

20 Goodbye Messolonghi 135

21 At the beginning of a new millennium. 141

Epilogue. 153








FOREWORD






Mi theme concept concerning Cemeteries, has been maintained for many years under a remarkable process falls recoup credibility. Unknown worlds which we do not know what to believe, are usually put into question.

Constantly let the silent fields where lie the dead, but it is not, rather that me thinks so. Undoubtedly, the Quantum Theory indicates a basic unit of the whole universe, showing that it is possible to decompose the world into small units of independent existence. This theory shows that the dynamics in the art is such that, solid objects are in constant motion entramando relations between different parts of a unified whole.

As we believe that matter is inherently sterile, we think the cemetery is in the same condition, and therefore inert bodies are also only turned into a pile of bones scattered.





7

8 Etréstles


My conception of the world of subterranean acting, aims to support the theory of Quantum, because at first glance it seems that under these moles cement there putrefaction and eternal solitude. Well, I, I do not think so, I think there is tremendous activity, above all tends to seek fulfillment in a world that concerns him, and also has the infinite grace of thanks from all lurking diseases that shake us. That is, each inhabitant of the subterranean acting as a Franciscan Noble receives worship existence, and not faints by the destructive effects of all known diseases.

Near the garden of heroes, they are the remains of those who died in this output. It was a legendary struggle for libertarian revolution of 1821 in Greece, exactly Messolonghi. Markos Botsaris's tomb and the statue of Lord Byron great Hellenophile found in this garden.

Once, I was looking for a book, and this was inevadiblemente of oriental trend. I used to remind my teacher, the monk talking Virajánanda Given the processes of time, yesterday, today and tomorrow; all at once were a pure unity. That physical death had to be spiritual satisfaction, so that the spirit can not disconnect your disposable body. Child saw my family to go to leave flowers garden home to their loved ones. But I am noticing that my grandparents were still alive, and then would leave, looking for ways to inhale the smell of the earth to prepare the farewell that someday would come from the dark beyond. It never was painful to see them

Ko umeterium MESSO LO Nghi 9


from, because I've always been with them. In addition always our body, which would be living in a merger with vague spirits, to vague minds that do not hold their interest in spirituality as a way of life, tend to make us climb through dark passages of ignorance.

Etréstles, the protagonist; It has place at a lineage that marks limits warriors of ancient Greece, since fought with neighboring nations. Thus, generation after generation, he meddles in successive reincarnations that are to be transported in time by different spaces.

Its Vitabión and Regma Mother, father and as Staktos and Esaedt, both from different eras. His monogamous romantic company is coyuntada with the presence of Drestnia; woman who had to pull out of her womb, better said from his rib, emulating the biblical account.

While it is noteworthy that the secondary characters are related to Greek mythology such as Eurydice, and real characters like Markos Botsaris, who was a great hero who drove the Turks. The famous Florentine sculptor and architect Lorenzo Ghiberti, is present in the action, so that his image is immortalized in an eternal cemetery. Similarly we should mention Asurbanipal king of Assyria (667-626 C), the Auriga; the coachman and truck driver where he had his Herreros over time to release the Hellenic descent.

Other memorable as Aristotle, Hesiod, Praxiteles, which are knowledge to every reader of Greek literature. The judge presiding over the classroom

10 E tr é stles


sesionaba time to time, trying to revive the rituals and reject the stubborn efforts of Lucifer, who was trying to have a place on earth, then God expelled him from heaven.

In the chapter of the onslaught of Lucifer, he is accompanied by his minions Heosphoros and Phosphoros; they are the ones who brought Lucifer from heaven to Messolonghi. In addition Mesopotamian demons appear hostile world, these were the Annunaki who were the jailers of the dead in hell. The Etimmu, were the ghosts of all those who had died unhappy. The Utukku lived in desolate places or cemeteries; they are all part of malignancy presence as oppressive form and manner of presence to the exuberance of good all-encompassing.

Kanti Botsaris steed, is nothing more than his superconsciousness, wearing it as a link between the different physical and oneiric dimensions. It should be noted that Kanti is a Cretan horse and belongs to the fallen in battle, as Botsaris.

Eulalia and Zultina, both courtesans who spent their lives together with Ghiberti and Botsaris.

And it could not ignore the Menopausal, puerperal and Enamorada, as they like female members suffer alone beyond the earthly life that had consequences that affect the desolate silence of death camps.

And to finish, arrival at Valplacci, where it meets a world and a rare man in an unknown dimension by Etréstles. subsequently arriving at Patmos, where St.

Ko umeterium MESSO LO Nghi eleven


John the Theologian, to regain some of its lost soul by the intrusion of Lucifer. Here manages to discover that there is no need to fight warriors who always talk about physical war, because many of them tend to succumb to the same battlefields. discovering, mind mentor as the best ally to overcome any difficulty, wherever it is that the human race is found, or infra-human.

Finally, Etréstles is discovered in a way that would open a new numeral cycle, to start a new era and a new physical space where the projection Messolonghi be situated; nothing less than Nineveh, Ashurbanipal land where the winds blow, as a priest in his exsufflation it does to remove the demons that inhabit the world.

The "Zero" is the initiator of a new era, from whose base the only means available to the new life that awaits the residents of escombroso Messolonghi, after the invasion of Lucifer appears.

My concept of the cemeteries, while seeking an answer to approximate I think now that enormous efforts are made to understand fully. Cemetery remains for me a scenario of hideousness and terror, seen from the observation point that everyone has it, however, I think that in a strange world where you're not supposed to govern ethics, aesthetics, law , and the professional, economic and social status; It is where more wealth is the multiestimulante vitality, "I think

12 E tr é stles


nowhere inhabited earthly souls, will be able to find more life here in the

Messolonghi cemetery ".


José Luis Carreño Troncoso San Antonio, 1997




1





Wake-up of Etréstles



Dfter sleeping a thousand years fell on my face greater light current Solar. I slept without smiling at the crowds inhumaron smearing me my only bones.

The search of that hubbub, made me celebrate the porous bodies and pelusientos arañosos falling on my fingers, delighting my humble tributes to the beetles that accompanied me to direct my view to the nearby burial vaults me. Some were swollen with a semblance augury despertativa; like starting today, with the ominous words They moved from today, the paddling of my fleshless jaws.

Among gravestones of Floreas esmeraldinas dinosauric, in a clear blue autumn, some birds refregaban on edges of the carved stones. Meanwhile, mustards was riding on dry leaves leaves clavelinas. The white-clad looked up Drestnia slab that closed their senses, remained behind bars with his hands crossed as evolving body


13

14 E tr é stles


to attend a new era of geography and different technology. On his chest he would run the living vertiginante wind up the corporeal hint in the light of Koumeterium Messolonghi; that housed over a thousand years ago, at Etréstles of Kalavrita.

This huge palace and flat, it is nothing more than an asylum, where the worst plague that began with the death of the sentinels of Lucifer, who dropped this place with its beautiful golden layers originated; whose satagénesis emerge the burning soil to ten fossilized cemeteries under the Messolonghi.

He walked slowly dragging my old body, the tenth floor, and that teenage girls pointed stones would break my nails; as such if they were claws of a mammal trapped by lava from a volcano. In each advance I awaken in my armor patriotic my last fight, and his enternecedor observe how parents tilled by the conglomerate caste, fighting in underground elements.

Etréstles awakening ...:

Etréstles ...: Which of all columns erected is able to open all columns built in the pavilion of these moles without form or color ... just vitalizing lung diaphragm Eólico my daydreams, is who I think would ...?

To all who are runaways and trapped underground Messolonghi, I bring you good tidings ... Auriga with its Herreros come from the region of the Dodecanese to loosen the bars you father

Ko umeterium MESSO LO Nghi fifteen


Staktos lucid and my mother Vitabión well that in a thousand years, has been damaged her beautiful body. Since my birth in Ayia Lavra, I was being buried for the ninth time in the Ninth Fossilized Cemetery. Whose archpriest with holy oil trickled down my wall, pretending to be a dance of water generated at the bottom of the Ionian. Between the arches of the temple columns running down my mother Vitabión; outward sacravertebral bathe in the water of my past christenings. My past lives were providing mandated by the Auriga their previous lives. And your mother ... A day tried the weight of my recycle ... ?!

Beyond you., Comrades of wars, pilgrimages sacrosanct, lush gauzy baths civilization in the Olympic and equestrian fields.

To you. That you lie here, as is my death in my last life in the hands of a Spartan soldier. Pcs., Blood of my blood, I feel inside me speak your need ...

And in the postrería Drestnia, which by its sixth rising from here from Messolonghi, between bars sealed thy grave situation for the Hellenic indeterminar.

I had to drink from the Pinosa resin to speak here, with my bony hands to touch the others are like yours ...

... Drestnia, my rib still preserved, I will be reborn placating the domain of collective wishful thinking, which prevents your freedom.

My rib you return to your present life, whose cold, flower seeds esqueletizaron the perimeter of your life ...

16 E tr é stles


Etréstles was with them into the Koumeterium Messolonghi, to about 1800 meters zenith direction.

They were to be the Necromesolongui Council to define the minutes. -while music with winds adorned arrival-. Just at the moment, came the Auriga with its blacksmiths, they came to liberate Drestnia with its multiconciencia. What happiness to Etréstles! He ran through the underground halls, to the oldest Koumeterium, the first fossilized. Where thousands of years ago, with many now extinct species, Etréstles came to them resoundingly good news.

While the Council inveighed promulgating the divine sarmiento spray fields Dodecanese in producing seeds of Markos Botsaris.

Judge…: With my lameness, I have to advocate the reintegration of outstanding Markos Botsaris, that once we free them of the Turkish occupation!

Asurbanipal ...My Sirio reign, full of dynamism, placed on their doorposts the powerful image of South-west wind, in honor of his victorious from Kalidona.

Etréstles brought Drestnia just walking the Council and thousands of harmoniums undermined doubts Manor invoking the hero. They all stand, the Council at its octagonal table with his assistants left empty vine glasses to welcome, to the last surviving female first Koumeterium Messolonghi.

Ko umeterium MESSO LO Nghi 17


Harmoniums, as Apollonian rubies widen the dimensions of the cavernales vaults. She sit and ends the music. Drestnia with some leaves on his shoulders, adorned the new escenáculo, which would sit by the new future.

Asurbanipal ...: To you gifts Oh, the universe, you are welcome to this Council, where one day they brought me to praise my contributions from the entrance of Humanity!

But the issue for today, will await the arrival of Markos Botsaris as you who have reached this border, thanks to the generous Auriga.

Charioteer…: ***** wax Orion; Eternal fuel, donated them strength to my steeds pairs, that were raised over distant lands, to reach my Herreros desoldering the bars of Drestnia.

Blacksmith…: Our eyes closed every hundred kilometers, but Eurydice with your calendar, made the aphelion arrimara us this feat.

Ecos ...: Dust ..., Mito ... Dream ... illusion ... have swirled galloping millennia, wearing gray Borrasca ...!

What dark words illuminate the hopes, just below, it is well known that there is much to do, because there is more activity on the surface ...!

Judge…: Etréstles, Drestnia ... past, present, or future will speak of you.

18 E tr é stles


You Drestnia ... !, how long dream ..., defied your gothic vision, not move my neck to your neighbors, loved ensepulcrados in the first Fossilized Koumeterium.

Vitabión ...: Messolonghi lives up to all cemeteries in the world, where they loved their near them. But they do not know life here is more dynamic than in the world of their own.

Menopausal women ...My husband cry on my slab, because his infidelity caused me a bad venereum, which today has removed me from his life. The cries and cries for me ****** decline, all for being with another woman condemned me.

one curtain rises and leaves Funebrio; concelebrating priest all recent deaths ...

Funebrio ...: Woman when you cry my black clothes, cry black tears ...!

Your husband remains static, no movement, despite many kilometers to their own devices. Forbidden habit becomes, how tempting. But contestataria Mother Nature pours us their punishment.

Staktos ...: Friends kisses you give yourself, Where have posted ideations ...?

O dais to scatter everywhere the osculaciones they meet other mouths.

Ko umeterium MESSO LO Nghi 19


Etréstles ...: Everyone I ask do well to prepare your labors. Even so, his desire to hold my naughty pleas heart in this hour by the arrival of Drestnia.

The judge asks adjourn for the recess could then discuss strategies for future deaths.

Sepulcrero ...Lord Judge at the stepped eastern sector have buried an architect. We could ask your cooperation to Botsaris monument.

Judge…: All in good time. It will be done, does anyone want something narrow ...? -Drestnia raised his hand and asked ...:

Drestnia ...: With Etréstles in the last minutes of our lives, which extortioner once it is finished this monument, where our souls will be destined to remain here temporarily ... Messolonghi?

Judge…: General demented wars, take Etréstles the field of Lepanto, because there are stubborn souls who defy the vanquished souls ...

… and as for you, the benevolent Auriga take your soul colors of the sunset, to divide megatons of the Romantics, who along with Ghiberti, on some trunks of beautiful minerals, will anchor his best poems and hiperestésicas forward to outshine their suicides groups.

After the meeting, the attendees are removed, and Drestnia with Etréstles go to spring the celestial napa

twenty E tr é stles


with its golden glow waiting to sail to Tangier and Morocco. In their ships were concurrent, Etréstles woman carrying her ribcage navigation oriented towards the sound of the oars that were the femurs of a Diplodocus itself.

Drestni

It was the eve of the mid-autumn festival. Day had followed day of clear skies but ever-lower temperatures had brought crisp and chill mornings. Zuo Fen began to fear that a first frost would damage her late flowering plants, the delicate tea flowers of the osmanthus. She was already aware of the seven grasses of autumn now present in her garden and would recite standing amongst them the traditional seasonal poem:
 
Flowers blossoming

in autumn fields - 

when I count them on my fingers

they then number seven.

The flowers of bush clover,

eulalia, arrowroot, 

pink, patrinia, 

also, mistflower 

and morning faces flower.
 
Oh the whiteness of Autumn, the season of courage and sadness, a time for the lighting of white candles against the dying of the day. Upon rising Zuo Fen would stand in meditation facing west, the seasonal direction of dreams and visions. Again and again her mind state visited a habitation in the distant mountains, a sprawling summer palace seemingly empty but for the slightest echoes of recent occupation or maybe a caretaker’s attention. In her recurring vision she would walk from room to room, each kaleidoscopic in colour of hanging silks and elaborate murals. Eventually she would find her way outside into a neglected garden that dropped in gentle terraces to a lake where she would observe the ‘thousand colours of water, brilliances and blues.’
 
One morning a young chamberlain sent from her Lord visited her court. He had remained rapt at the sight of the courtesan of the Purple Chamber standing trance-like in her garden. Meng Ning had often positioned himself in the undertaking of the Emperor’s duties to communicate with Zuo Fen, whom Meng Ning admired and was secretly enamored. A few well-chosen words of respect and critical admiration for the poetess had been all it took for Emperor Wu to summon Meng Ning as courier of his express command to his most favoured concubine. Unfailingly gracious towards the formal attentions of the young man Zuo Fen had come to feel at ease with this respectful figure who had succeeded in charming both her cats and Mei Ling her maid.
​       As she stood motionless, attired in her gardening robe and clogs, she became aware of Meng Ning’s presence and, before turning to acknowledge him with a greeting, allowed a thought to form in herself. She would seek his help to identify the summer palace of her waking dreams.
       ​Yes, he knew of such a place, sixty li distant, a hard path it was said, but ladies of the court had once graced its many linked pavilions in the third season. The lake held a restless spirit and it was said no boat had ever sailed its surface. How did he know this, she had asked. A petition from a recluse, a former minister of the treasury, had been received at court requesting its occupation for the winter months. It had been refused, indeed dismissed without further consideration. Meng Ning had been curious as he had once viewed the lake from its western end, but from which the habitation was entirely hidden. Did the Honoured Lady know of the mysterious Red Slate Path said to appear briefly from out of a cave in the steep wooded hillside, cross a bowl-like glade and disappear into the lake depths? The Honoured Lady did not, but was nevertheless caught by Meng Ning’s description which, when he had delivered his message from Emperor Wu and retired, she fell to placing inside her already rich vision of property, lake, and precipitous woodland whose trees and bushes she was busy mind-painting with autumn leaves and berries.
 
After a day of thought and planning Zuo Fen developed an intricate strategy to visit the palace and environs of Eryi-lou. She told herself that she was searching for inspiration to compose an autumn sequence for her Lord that would recall the days of his esteemed father. She had discovered in the palace archives that in his declining years he had summered in this remote place, had filled its pavilions with only his most favoured concubines, its guest apartments with poets and musicians. She asked for Meng Ning’s services as guide and protector.
​      She had expected a blunt refusal, but to her astonishment, her request was granted, but only during the twelve days surrounding her monthly courses. She had smiled at this condition having been almost entirely free from her natural cycle for several years, something not unknown for a woman who had never been with child. Mei Ling dutifully made apparent false evidence of this charade.
​       It was a small party that left the Eastern Gate on a day that promised rain and high wind; seven in all, four to carry Zou Fen’s sedan. But this was to be understood as a matter of protocol rather than necessity, as within 6 li of the palace a pair of ponies for Zou Fen appeared in the road. Drawing back the curtains of her sedan she stepped out dressed as a male traveller, her movements and manner in such a disguise confidently rendered from her months searching for her brother Zuo Si in the wilderness of the Tai Mountains. Meng Ning was both astonished and alarmed as he had not been forewarned of this way of things. It seemed that Zuo Si had probably made all the necessary arrangements.

(to be continued)

My concept of the issue concerning Cemeteries has been maintained for many years under a remarkable process falls recoup credibility. Unknown worlds to which we do not know what to believe, are usually put into question.

Constantly let the silent fields were to lie the dead, but it is not, rather than me think so. Surely Quantum Theory indicates a basic unit of the whole universe, showing that it is possible to decompose the world into independently existing smallest units. This theory shows that the dynamic is in the matter in such a way that solid objects are constantly moving rasterizing relationships between different parts of a unified whole.
As we believe that matter is inherently sterile, we think the Cemetery is in the same condition, and therefore inert bodies are also just turned into a pile of bones scattered.
My conception of the world of subterranean acting aims to support the theory of Quantum, and at first glance, it seems that under these masses of cement no putrefaction and eternal solitude. Well, I do not think so, I think there is a tremendous activity, above all tends to seek fulfillment in a world of her competence, and also has the infinite grace of thanks from all lurking diseases that shake us. That is, each inhabitant of the subterranean acting receives as a Franciscan noblest worship existence, and not falter from the destructive effects of all known diseases.
Near the garden of heroes, they are the remains of those who died in this output. It was a legendary struggle for the libertarian revolution of 1821 in Greece, Messolonghi exact-mind. Markos Botsaris tomb and the statue of Lord Byron great Hellenophile found in this garden.


Once, I was looking for a book, and this trend was unavoidable East. I used to remind my teacher, the monk talking Virajánanda Given the processes of time, yesterday, today, and tomorrow; all at once was a pure unity. That physical death had to be spiritual satisfaction so that the spirit can not disconnect your disposable body. As a child, I saw my family go to leave my garden flowers home to their loved ones. But noticing that my grandparents were still alive, and then would leave, looking for ways to inhale the smell of the earth to prepare for the farewell, that someday would come from the dark beyond. It never was painful to see them go because I've always been with them. Besides always our body, which would be living in a merger with spirits vague, vague minds to not blame his interest in spirituality as a way of life, often making us climb through dark passages of ignorance.


Etréstles, the protagonist; It is staged one lineage that marks limits warriors of ancient Greece, since fighting with neighboring nations. Thus, generation after generation, he meddles in successive reincarnations that are to be transported in time to different spaces.  Its Vitabión and Regma Mother, father, and as Staktos and Esaedt, both from different eras. His company monogamous sentimental is linked by the presence of Drestnia; the woman he had to get out of her womb, better said from his rib, emulating the biblical account.

While it is noteworthy that the secondary characters are related to Greek mythology such as Eurydice, and real characters as Botsaris Markos, who was a great hero who drove the Turks. The famous Florentine sculptor and architect Lorenzo Ghiberti, is present in the action so that its image is immortalized in the eternal cemetery. Equally noteworthy is Ashurbanipal, king of Assyria (667-626 BC), the Auriga; Coachman, and the truck driver where he had his blacksmiths over time to release the Greek descent.


Other memorable as Aristotle and Hesiod Praxitle, which are knowledge to every reader of Greek literature. The judge presiding over the classroom in session from time to time, trying to relive the rituals and reject severe efforts of Lucifer, trying to have a place on earth, then God expelled him from heaven.

In the chapter of the onslaught of Lucifer, is he accompanied by his minions and Phosphoros Heosphoros; they are the ones who brought Lucifer from heaven to Messolonghi. Also appear hostile Mesopotamian demons of the world, were the Annunaki who were the guards of the dead in hell. The Etimmu were the ghosts of all those who had died unhappy. The Utukku lived in desolate places or cemeteries; they are all part of the presence in the malignancy as oppressive manner and form of presence to the exuberance of good all-encompassing.

Kanti Botsaris steed is not above his super consciousness, which leads as a link between different dimensions physical and dreamlike. It notes that Kanti is a Cretan horse and belongs to the fallen in battle, as Botsaris.

Eulalia and Zultina, both courtesans who spent their lives with Ghiberti and Botsaris.
And it could not ignore the Menopause, puerperal, and Inamorada, since they and female members alone your friend beyond earthly life that had consequences that affect the desolate silence of death camps.
And to top it, the arrival in Valplacci was with a world and an unusual man, a dimension Etréstles unknown. Then arriving at Patmos, where St. John the Theologian, to regain some of its lost soul by the intrusion of Lucifer. This achieves discover is not necessary to combat warriors who always speak of physical war, because many of them tend to succumb to the same battlefield. Discovering, so the mentoring Mind is the best ally to overcome any difficulty, wherever it is that the human race you are, or infrahuman.


Finally, Etréstles is discovered in a way that would inaugurate a new paragraph cycle to initiate a new era and a new physical space where the projection of Messolonghi would stand; nothing less than Nineveh, Ashurbanipal land where the winds blow, as a priest in his insufflation do to remove the demons that inhabit the world.
The "Zero" is the initiator of a new era, the basis of the only means available to the new life that awaits ruinous residents Messolonghi, after the invasion of Lucifer appears.

My concept of Cemeteries, they are seeking long an answer that I think I can approximate now that huge efforts are made to understand fully. The cemetery remains for me a scenario of hideousness and terror, seen from the observation point we all have of it, however, I think that in a strange world where you're not supposed to govern ethics, aesthetics, law, and the professional economic and social status; It is where more wealth is the multi stimulant vitality, "I think in any place inhabited earthly souls, will be able to find more life here in the cemetery of Messolonghi".


José Luis Carreño Troncoso.
Copyright all rights reserved

St. Eulalia's gushed cinnamon disks
engulfed in licorice. The smoke stacks
were now purely cosmetic. The M & M roofs melted, heaped thick,
and dripped charred caramel turtles
to the Easter grass below.  Maybe the
chocolate cross on the steeple
is filled with fudge, maybe it's not.

Oh Pöe! oh Pöe! oh Pöe!
Genio del signo fatídico!
Alma que en mí domina!
Faro de luces negras...!:
Acógeme en tu lóbrego
retiro de silencio.
Acógeme en tu místico
retiro de pavura...
Y en el retiro cándido
de tus amores puros!

Oh Pöe! Oh Pöe! Oh Pöe!
Faro de luces negras...!
Alma que en mí domina...!
Transpórtame a las tierras de Weir, de sombras llenas!
Transpórtame a las tierras de Weir, donde Ulalume
regó sobre tu alma
su fragante perfume...

Condúceme a tu reino,
a ese reino lejano
donde nació Annabel, envidia de los ángeles!

Donde se ve su tumba
cerca del mar sereno,
bajo del cielo torvo donde tu estrella arde!

Llévame a ver el cuervo.
Llévame a ver el cuervo
cogitabundo y hosco
Llévame a ver el cuervo
-sobre el busto de Palas-
que en su trágico orgullo te azotó con sus alas!

Llévame a ver el cuervo,
cogitabundo y fosco,
llévame a ver el cuervo...:
ese cuervo fatídico
-alma que en mí domina!-
-faro de luces negras!-
ese cuervo es mi signo,
y a sus influjos pávidos
obedecen mis flierzas, de horror y sombra llenas!

Llévame a ver el cuervo,
que en un país lejano,
-en el país quimérico
de demonios y ángeles-
sobre el marmóreo busto,
cogitabundo y torvo,
sarcástico y sereno,
mira, impávido y sordo,
el dolor que en tí arde...

Transpórtame a las tierras de Eulalia y de Ligeïa!
Transpórtame a las tierras de Weir, donde Ulalume
regó sobre tu alma
su fragante perfume...!
Acógeme en tu lóbrego
retiro de silencio...

Oh Pöe! Oh Pöe! Oh Pöe!
faro de luces negras!

Acógeme en tu místico
retiro de pavura...
Oh Pöe! Oh Pöe! Oh Pöe!
Genio del signo fatídico...!

Y en el retiro cándido
de tus amores puros!
Oh Pöe! Oh Pöe! Oh Pöe!
alma que en mí domina!

Llévame a ver el cuervo
cogitabundo y torvo!
Llévame a ver el cuervo
-sobre el busto de Palas­-
que en su trágico orgullo
te azotó con sus alas!

Chapter v
Brisehal abhors the Desert

For the desolate Dasht-e-Lut. After Brisehal bellowed being from the deserted sites of contemplation he was emerging from his great mountain of empty desert. The ghosts abounded wandering alone as if wanting to take hold of the last sparks of politics that they had left to surrender from their own lost solitude. Brisehal was a canine-headed mountain similar to Anubis, but millions of times larger and more acidic, like the hope of some parishioners to enter the garden-kingdom of Heaven!. Before the day trembled with the movement of his trembling footsteps, Brisehal spent two years moving day and night. When it roared, smaller mountainous areas were liquidated with the greatest effect of their spinning forces. They were immense thunderclaps that even scrubbed up to the spheroid clouds reddened by their rising. He turned from left to right as if wanting to exile the Desert of Lut, like casing his pro generation by bundles of optical rope or high-density fiber, which could cohabit with Vernarth in his odyssey of the Horcondising (Vernarth lineage paradise to Gaugamela) .

Before beginning the chant of his ultra-low thunder of Trumpets and armor of courage without break.  Any protocol is dissipated to inaugurate in the stands of the Iranian war-educational Sky and aesthetic drama, the analogous city in the extreme north in Irna; Located in the Talesh Mountains, just 50 km from Rasht, there is a small paradise surrounded by beauty: the city of Masal. It is with the force of his traction that he drags thousands of prayers and litanies in chains through the underground near Las Acacias where unscathed heroes have died embracing them, as the cold snowy cloak of Horcondising usually supplies, to those who dream that he will redeem the ignorance of not knowing how to be reborn next to the fallen and raised trunks, scattered and destroyed by the predatory shrew of yesteryear.

In genealogical peduncle rows of the Mandragora extension they marked the ship without an unbroken ****** sea, those who blow through their burdensome ear line up before encircling them with their smiles to swallow napkins of Hawthorn and Acacia early: (essences that their nose always vomited, to later recover them)
This is how his ancestors appear accompanying him to preserve his adventures and adventures:

"Amada y Amador, Arturo and Adelina, Bernardino and Baldomero, Cándida and Cesarina, Delfina and Dolores, Esperanza and Eulalia, Francisco and Felo, Gumercindo and Gilberto, Hilarión and Hugo, Isabel and Julio, Joaquina and Juan Bautista, Lastenia and Luidiana, Lidia and Melania, Mariano and Miguel, Nicolasa and Natalia, Pascuala and Pastora and Rosa, Agapito and Ascanio, Getulio and Leocadio, Tancredo and Tranquilino, Zacarías and Zenón ”. All his ancestors settled in the Horcondising Castle to observe his cereal sandwich that he gladly took to his mouth, and movia and arms and elbows clearing the lily vines and ivies of the
Below the branches,  Joshua de Piedra and Bernardolipo. The horns sounded in symmetrical filial genetics under the same hollow empty mausoleum.

Brisehal, confused by not getting along with Vernarth, decides to walk and approach him. Its size was millions of times larger in proportion to its little finger. Try walking on confused sides, broken geographical areas and undulating corridors of the Redemptive Pass of the Christ of Lisbon, or going straight or through the center, leaning to the left.  Until she finally looks at him and manages to retain her figure surrounded by several golden rings. He was on his back and in his ventral decubitus, creating love affairs even on the mid-morning dew grass. He managed to see him in his parapsychological regression, to support his hypnosis in the still unexplored states of his Consciousness as a toddler through the Fields of Macedonia and at night through the fields of Sudpichi, on the banks of the Horcondising neighing a glass full of Chupilca for not being less.

Brisehal was in the worst halite of the super distillate saying:
Heal me even if I am not. Heal me even if my head fails to receive you, nor my heart can reconcile you, heal me even though my longings can continue with you rolling around the world with my whole body in the midst of subversive political currents and social doctrines, rumbling falling all the divisions that separate us , even the outer walls of the farthest reaches of our separate and to be separated stocks. I will go with you until the end of this long journey, I will take your feet when they hesitate to continue and I will move your frozen head from the stocks and tricks to catch those you leave with glasses full, even with the Chacolí, who makes us go in circles through places without garment or bait through the desert where the thirtieth final Oasis awaits us ”after leaving it lying with the ivy roots of the Rio Bumodos, and by all the points of its body open to discontinue with this regression, it meets the twentieth oasis.

Twentieth Oasis next to Tel Gómel:
In the well-known art of the Afro-Asian belt of the Persian zones, of deserts that extend by hydrographic basins, it transports us to its second regression along the Bumodos River. Here with roots of 60 lures will be shed by 60 centimeters from your oasis soil. Here Vernarth will remain encapsulated from his roots of lush attire from years to years entering his veins.
Diplomacy is unleashed in Ecbatana, close to the encyclopedic collision, the shelves throb, distorting the story lines more than a paragraph inflamed by their own saffron sheets of tradition written in fornited papyrus. It has also been mentioned in the Bible by its Aramaic name Acmeta. According to Herodotus and The Biblical Oral Source.

At more than 15,000 kilometers in the Castle of Horcondising;  Her mother Luccica enters, taking the lace from her dress, to go up the northern balcony saying:
Luccica: What time can I see you, my beloved Vernarth, now that your life has been cut before the harvest. Black garlands progress along the edges of the swinging of the curtains of obscurantism…. !!
Then Luccica gets up. She goes to observe the walls of Adarve, to approach the guard and ask her if she had left the window half open. The guard moves away from the loophole and responds:
Guard: My lady, our prince Vernarth, left the Crusades for Tel Gomel. And I doubt that her absence has styled the hinges of the disheartened gate by the joy of feeling her voice proclaiming life where nothing has lived any species,  nor death where no one wants to inhabit it.

Bernardolipo, your spouse enters: do not doubt that you have well exercised the straps of the barbican interwoven with grates of poisoned ivy with the life of pagan serpents. But what else has to happen if our Vernarth forged the Rake with his burned hands, and still remains intact for anyone who tries to overcome it. Oh duel of Avernus without bosses to defend their Aras!

Guard replies:  It has been conceived through the corridors of arms, that your son is in TeL Gómel, on the magical sides of the Bumodos River. He is surrounded by people who love him. He rides stretched out on a white steed, with a white flame, with hooves of Fire…, Alikanto greater fever for elder fever in midnight of the witches who frighten the Mandragora.

The regression continues towards the region of Gaugamela, hearing with his breastplate on his sleep the distant tales of his parents in the Horcondising castle. He walks on the dry and discolored leaves, on the docile rods that hung over his veins, hydrating with magical liquids his body asleep in Bumodos and his accomplices. Every time he walked on this tube that was tubed through skies and beautiful places, he had to approach to inject the young elder wands with slopes of Bumodos concoctions, before eating and drinking delicious meals.Together with their diocesan comrades with wine.

This bacchanal episode has to do with a love story. Rather it mixes love, passion, madness and death.Or almost death. Persian legend tells that from the seeds that a bird dropped at the feet of King Djemchid (Yemshid), plants were born that bore abundant fruit, the fermented juice of which was drunk by the king's favorite. The woman fell asleep soundly under the relaxing effects of the drink, and when she woke up she felt healed and flushed, and also happy. Then the king named the wine Darou é Shah (daru eshjá), "the King's remedy." Almost with the second degree beer, he replied before Shamash Sumerio with his celestial oscillations, to approach the Philistines hand in hand to keep them intoxicated rather than healthy.Brightly and lights of the green candle in her tabernacle ... beyond the Sumeria table.

Vernarth says: Take out the table, take it out. I want to continue lying on the wild plasma floor of Bumodos. I need my odalisque Valekiria to bring ***** and elderberry to unleash the kidnapping of myself, for not wanting to be assisted nor for the greatest fear I have ever felt. This echoes in Horcondising in the ears of his mother who was in the battlement just a few minutes from sending her eagles.

Luccica says:With what number of molten bronze and burnished copper gag, I will polish your flabby regret for not being with us. Son I know that you will give your life in Gaugamela. I know that your strength is not mine or your father's. That Etrestles your brother will be in the biggest puffy nimbus clouds of the sacrosanct oracle. Pastoral flutes will take my basket to your store, loaded with goat cheese, grass bread with balsamic Palo Santo. "May the Nile Cobra not get dark your fiercely wounded Brisehal."
To be continued… / under edition