Baby on board

Collage

El muro, de Yilmaz Güney

Durísima... me hizo acordar a Chicos de la calle. Son esas películas que te pasa Europa Europa a las tres de la matina...

Las condiciones de los presos en una cárcel de máxima seguridad de Ankara, en Turquía, son inhumanas. Un grupo de huérfanos kurdos recluidos en una de las celdas lucha por su propia supervivencia y decide rebelarse ante las constantes vejaciones y violaciones a las que los someten los guardias… La última película de Güney, el célebre director turco que pasó largas temporadas en la cárcel y que un año antes, en 1982, había ganado la Palma de Oro por su film “El camino”. Güney falleció poco tiempo después de concluir el rodaje de “El muro”.

The hand that holds the glass

Esta historia la inventamos con Taty para una tarea de Ruthie (¡qué tiempos aquellos!). Y luego yo la traduje al english en un curso preparatorio para el First, jeje.

I hope you like it!

Without saying a word, Jo stood up and walked out of the room. She knew he would forget it. "He's such an idiot, so stupid" she thought. He always had to ruin everything. She had no choice, what could she do? Was it wrong to make her husband pay for not remembering their 30° anniversary together?
She had woken up earlier, dressed in her best clothes. She had prepared his breakfast and she had sat in the bed near him, and all for what? The only thing he said was: "Darling, everything is beautiful, but why?". The two glasses of his favourite brandy didn't mean anything?
Jo stared at him with hate and when she saw he was planning to drink from her glass, she suddenly took it and gave him the other one. "Darling, what is the matter?" he asked. Trying to smile, she answered: "Oh, nothing, honey. This is your favourite... do you remember? The one which has the skull smoking in the Boca t-shirt!". "Oh, yes, you are so intelligent. You never forget anything" he said drinking his brandy.
Her face changed, a ray of light crossed her head. "Yes, I'm taking revenge!" she thought. She looked at him with a smile and saw him drinking. She kissed his head and stood up. She closed the door and walked: one step, two steps, three... How sweety was the sound of broken glasses!
Smiling, she returned to the room and saw the scene: her husband in the bed, with his eyes closed and with the hand that had held the glass, opened. Under it, on the floor, the broken glass.



(Se agradece cualquier tipo de corrección en caso de errores)