Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 7, 2025
The meadow, golden, furrowed, stripped even of the smallest bushes, extended limitless in its immense desolation. The three tall ash trees which stood in front of the small house, with dark green crests, round and waving, with rich foliage and branches drooping to the very ground, seemed a veritable miracle. "I don't know why but I feel there's a lot of sadness around here," said Demetrio.
"Hallo, there, Remigia," another neighbor said as she came in, bowing her bony back to pass through the opening, "haven't you any laurel leaves? We want to make a potion for Maria Antonia who's not so well today, what with her bellyache." Remigia lowered her eyes to indicate that Demetrio was sleeping. "Oh, I didn't see you when I came in. And you're here too, Panchita? Well, how are you?"
Such appellations, without a doubt, are stimulating and glamorous. But if the streets themselves have seen a scavenger's broom within the last half-century, I am much mistaken. The goddess "Hygeia" dost not figure among their names, nor yet that Byzantine Monarch whose infantile exploit might be re-enacted in ripest maturity without attracting any attention in San Demetrio.
They made room for her between Luis Cervantes and Blondie, opposite Demetrio. Bottles of tequila, dishes of cut glass, bowls, porcelains and vases lay scattered over the table indiscriminately. Meco, carrying a box of beer upon his shoulders, came in cursing and sweating.
Do you remember that damn jail at Escobedo, where we stayed together for over a year?" Without removing his cigar from his lips, Demetrio, buried in a sullen silence amid the bustle and uproar, offered his hand and said: "I'm delighted to meet you!" "So your name is Demetrio Macias?" the girl asked suddenly.
Natera fixed his cruel gaze on the orator, then turned his back on him to talk to Demetrio. Presently, one of Natera's officers, a young man with a frank open face, drew up to the table and stared insistently at Cervantes. "Are you Luis Cervantes?" "Yes. You're Solis, eh?" "The moment you entered I thought I recognized you. Well, well, even now I can hardly believe my eyes!" "It's true enough!"
To calm him, she controlled her own great grief. Gradually the rain stopped, a swallow, with silver breast and wings describing luminous charming curves, fluttered obliquely across the silver threads of the rain, gleaming suddenly in the afternoon sunshine. "Why do you keep on fighting, Demetrio?" Demetrio frowned deeply. Picking up a stone absent-mindedly, he threw it to the bottom of the canyon.
The adventurous type of Anglo-Saxon probably thinks the country too tame; scholars, too trite; ordinary tourists, too dirty. The accommodation and food in San Demetrio leave much to be desired; its streets are irregular lanes, ill-paved with cobbles of gneiss and smothered under dust and refuse.
Behind, a confusion of skirts and children's bare legs rushing to and fro, pell-mell. "I want wine. Hey, there: wine!" Demetrio cries in an imperious voice, pounding heavily on a table. "Sit down, boys." A lady peeps out, another, a third; from among black skirts, the heads of frightened children.
"Did they spring from the earth?" The women disappear hurriedly, to return with an old shotgun, covered with dust and cobwebs, and a pistol with rusty broken springs. Demetrio smiles. "All right, then, let's see the money." "Money? Money? But what money do you think a couple of spinsters have? Spinsters alone in the world....?"
Word Of The Day
Others Looking