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MASACCIO (1401/1428), ITALIAN PAINTER: Shades of Giotto, Brunelleschi and Donatello, for vivid landscapes and figures perfect

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TIMELESS BOOKS, A FAREWELL TO ARMS: By Ernest Hemingway

Frederic is a young American, arrived in Italy to take part voluntarily in the war, driven by a romantic vision of the conflict, which has been working as driver of the ambulance, but the war will prove less attractive than they had imagined. He meets a young English nurse (Catherine), and a casual relationship becomes intense and passionate, but he …

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THAW: Poetry, by Kathleen Jamie

THAW   When we brought you home in a taxi, through the steel-grey thaw, after the coldest week in memory – even the river sealed itself – it was I, hardly breathing, who came through the passage to our yard, welcoming our simplest things: a chopping block, the frost-split lintels; and though it meant a journey through darkening snow, arms …

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WATERTIGHT: Poetry, by Monika Rinck

WATERTIGHT   He says the pain is a pond. I say yes, the pain is a pond. because the pain riddled by fish lying in a basin and smells like rotten. he says, and guilt is a pond. I say yes, the blame too pond. Because in a recess blame sloshing and despite the outstretched arm I get the armpit …

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THE PLACE OF A WOMAN: Poetry, by Imtiaz Dharker

THE PLACE OF A WOMAN You must be careful to mouth, especially if you’re a woman. A smile is stifled, with the hem of her sari. No one must see your serenity cracked, even joy. If you occasionally need to scream, fault alone, but in front of a mirror, where you can see the strange shape that takes the mouth, …

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EDGAR DEGAS (1834/1917), FRENCH PAINTER: The revolution of the way of painting, with the new use of light and the subjects outdoors

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A WONDERFUL DAY IN THE CITY OF ACROPOLIS Athens and the Acropolis, along with a memorable dinner

This evening, in Athens, do not stay in the Plaka, come along with me in Ermou Street, where we can wrap the charm of the Byzantine church of Kapnikarea. Then, we will have the opportunity to continue to the old souk of Monastiraki, because it is Sunday morning that you can make advantageous purchases at its intriguing “flea market”. If …

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PAUL CÉZANNE (1839/1906), FRENCH PAINTER: The painter is able to reproduce what he saw with his soul, forgetting eyes

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WE SPEAK: Poetry, by Iñigo Aranbarri

WE SPEAK You say it is fate. Contemplate the day calling the death, go as the last rays innermost shadows, caressing tranquility forever, as the sweet music of the port. Watch as well as the time goes. like a ship, large, silent, precise. Full of questions. (Iñigo Aranbarri)  

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THE STONES: Poetry, by Tomas Tranströmer

THE STONES I feel that we have laid down the stones, crystal clear over the years. in the valley flywheel action of the moment confused, shouting from the top to the top of the trees, silent air lighter than this, swooping like swallows from top to top of the mountains until they reach the plateau the most remote along the …

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