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Rafael Sánchez Ferlosio

Perhaps she had been waiting since she was fifteen. Sometimes they stole into the patios; they ate up the parsley, a little green sprig of parsley, in the summer, in the watered shade of the patios, in the cool windows of the basements at foot level. Don Sanxhez said to her, ‘You don’t pay for art, kid. A rose and mauve lady that had not yet gathered her flesh and her beauty into dark clothes, and still waited, like a rose stripped of its petals, with her faded colors and her artificial smile, bitter as a grimace.

Don Zana used to walk through the outskirts of Madrid and catch small dirty fish in the Manzanares. Jaraa would dance in the elevators and on the landings, spill ink wells, beat on pianos with his rigid little gloved hands.

It was when there were geraniums on the balconies, sunflower-seed stands in the Moncloa, herds of yearling sheep in the vacant lots of the Guindalera. Discover new books on Goodreads.

Topics Jadama This Author. He awoke one morning, hanging in the dusty storeroom of a theater, frrlosio to a lady of the eighteenth century, with many white ringlets and a cornucopia of a face. Want to Read Currently Reading Read. Just a moment while we sign you ferlosi to your Goodreads account.


He liked to argue, to go visiting in houses.

Rafael Sánchez Ferlosio (Author of El Jarama)

El testimonio de Yarfoz 3. It was that e, the story of Don Zana ‘The Marionette,’ he with the hair of cream-colored string, he with the large and empty laugh like a slice of watermelon, the one of the Tra-kay, tra-kay, tra-kay, tra-kay, tra-kay, tra on the tables, on the coffins. Want to Read saving… Error rating book. She returned home crying and, without saying anything to anyone, died of jaraam. Many felt his dry, wooden slap; many listened to his odious songs, and all saw him dance on the tables.

He had a disagreeable voice, like the breaking of dry reeds; he talked more than anyone, and he got drunk at the little tables in the taverns. Esas Yndias Equivocadas Y Malditas: Her flesh was slack and she was some forty-five years old. Comentarios A La Historia 4. He wore a white shirt, a jacket of green flannel, a bow tie, light trousers, and shoes of Corinthian red on his little dancing feet.

Then, then was the story of Don Zana ‘The Marionette. His chest was a trapezoid.

Mientras no cambien los dioses, nada ha cambiado 4. He slept in a pension where no one else stayed. Margaret Jull Costa Translator.

Books by Rafael Sánchez Ferlosio (Author of El Jarama)

Don Zana ep the pits to make her believe he loved her. The fruitseller’s daughter, with her quince-lips, still bloodless, ingenuously kissed that slice-of-watermelon laugh.


They were dragging their heavy wool, eating the grass among the rubbish, bleating to the neighborhood. Refresh and try again. He would throw the cards into the air when he lost, and he didn’t stoop over to pick them up.

Or they stepped on the spread-out sheets, undershirts, or pink chemises clinging to the ground like the gay shadow of a handsome young girl. He would breakfast on a large cup of chocolate and he would not return until night or dawn.

This was Don Zana ‘The Marionette,’ the one who used to dance on the tables and the coffins. Don Zana broke the flower pots with his hand and he laughed at everything.

Sign in with Facebook Sign in options. The girl cried when days passed without Don Zana’s going by her street. Want to Read saving….

Then he would light a fire of dry leaves and fry them. This lady was waiting for a husband. The fruitseller’s daughter fell in love with him and gave him apricots and plums. Every morning he would put on his bright red shoes and have them cleaned.

One day he took her out for a walk. Rate ferlosoi book Clear rating 1 of 5 stars 2 of 5 stars 3 of 5 stars 4 of 5 stars 5 of 5 stars.