sábado, 29 de noviembre de 2008
miércoles, 12 de noviembre de 2008
Imágenes de una muerte anunciada. JOP
Con las fotografías todavía sobre el escritorio, volvió a observar el negativo con la ayuda de la lámpara que tenía a su lado. Efectivamente, ahí estaba.
El médico forense interviniente en la causa había establecido que el deceso de la víctima se produjo entre las 17 y las 19 horas del día 15 de julio, como resultado de las múltiples lesiones en el cráneo producidas por el accidente automovilístico en el kilómetro 215 de la ruta 2.
El perito ingeniero designado de oficio por el juez de instrucción, lo llamó como era habitual, para que tomara las fotografías de la zona del accidente y de los restos del automóvil en el que viajaba la víctima, con el fin de anexarlas a la pericia.
Como era su costumbre en estos casos, preparaba minuciosamente el material para la labor y configuraba la cámara para que fechara las imágenes. Con la cámara cargada con película color, realizó treinta y seis tomas: De las huellas que habían quedado en la ruta producto de la colisión, de la dirección del impacto, de las marcas efectuadas por el ingeniero y del automóvil. De lo que en realidad quedaba de él, fotografió el interior del habitáculo y principalmente el asiento del conductor que presentaba abundantes manchas de sangre. El asiento casi vuelto hacia el costado sin la presencia del cinturón de seguridad y el volante torcido por la fuerza del impacto fueron los principales blancos de esa tarea.
De regreso en el laboratorio y con el propósito de dar cumplimiento con el plazo establecido por el juez para presentar la pericia, reveló inmediatamente la película y se dispuso a realizar las copias.
Al cabo de tres horas, acomodó sobre una mesa el material obtenido. En las primeras imágenes podían observarse claramente las huellas de los neumáticos reventados impresos en el asfalto. Luego, la perspectivas posibles de la dirección -gracias a las mediciones efectuadas por el perito ingeniero-, del guardarrail destrozado al costado del camino y de la pendiente que concluía en el arroyo. A partir de la foto 31, comenzaba lo inexplicable.
Cuando vio aquellas imágenes estimó que la película podía estar dañada en esos fotogramas, que el proceso del revelado o el copiado habían sido defectuosos o que el objetivo de la cámara podía presentar alguna suciedad. Incluso se permitió suponer la improbable circunstancia de haber copiado las fotos superponiendo dos negativos sin advertir el error.
Cuando todos los razonamientos resultaron inoficiosos para encontrar una respuesta plausible, se tendió en el sillón del escritorio y miró decenas de veces el negativo y las fotografías en busca de alguna explicación.
En su incredulidad y obstinación había desarmado la cámara en busca de la sustancia que había impresionado el negativo. Limpió los espejos, el pentaprisma, la cortinilla y en su desesperación por encontrar la causa intentó desmontar los lentes del objetivo con el que había realizado las tomas causando una fractura en el cilindro que dejó inutilizable el mecanismo de enfoque y el diafragma.
Miró las fotos por enésima vez. El fechador, que había sido exhaustivamente examinado antes de las tomas dejó la huella del 25 de julio. Faltaban aún cinco días. En las últimas seis fotografías se podía ver, sobre el asiento ensangrentado del automóvil, el cuerpo del fotógrafo bañado en sangre.
sábado, 8 de noviembre de 2008
viernes, 7 de noviembre de 2008
Pellízquenme. Michael Moore
¿Quién, entre nosotros, no se ha quedado sin palabras? Las lágrimas fluyen. Lágrimas de alegría. Lágrimas de alivio. Una asombrosa, apabullante avalancha de esperanza en un tiempo de profunda desesperación. En una nación que fue fundada sobre el genocidio y luego construida sobre las espaldas de esclavos, fue un momento inesperado, perturbador en su simplicidad: Barack Obama, un hombre bueno, un hombre negro, dijo que traería el cambio a Washington y a la mayoría del país le gustó la idea. Los racistas estuvieron presentes durante la campaña y en el cuarto oscuro. Pero ya no eran más mayoría y veremos cómo se apaga su llama de odio a lo largo de nuestra vida.
Hubo otra importante “primera” noche. Nunca antes en nuestra historia había sido elegido presidente durante un tiempo de guerra un candidato antibélico confeso. Espero que el presidente electo Obama recuerde eso cuando tenga que considerar expandir la guerra en Afganistán. La fe que tenemos ahora se perderá si se olvida el tema principal por el cual derrotó a sus colegas demócratas en las primarias y luego a un gran héroe de la guerra en la elección general: el pueblo de Estados Unidos está cansado de la guerra. Harto. Y el martes su voz fue fuerte y clara.
Han pasado 44 inexcusables años desde que un demócrata que se postula para presidente recibió sólo el 51 por ciento de los votos. Eso es porque a la mayoría de los estadounidenses no les gustan los demócratas. Los ven como que pocas veces tienen las agallas para hacer el trabajo y defender a los trabajadores que ellos dicen que apoyan. Bueno, acá tienen la oportunidad. Se les entregó, vía un público votante, en la forma de un hombre que no es uno cualquiera del partido, no es un burócrata de por vida. ¿Se convertirá ahora en uno de ellos o los obligará a ser más como él? Rogamos que sea esto último.
Pero hoy celebramos este triunfo de la decencia sobre el ataque personal, de la paz sobre la guerra, de la inteligencia sobre la creencia de que Adán y Eva montaban dinosaurios hace apenas 6000 años. ¿Cómo será tener un presidente inteligente? La ciencia, desterrada durante ocho años, volverá. Imaginen apoyar a las mentes superiores de nuestro país mientras ellos se dedican a curar enfermedades, descubrir nuevas formas de energía y trabajar para salvar al planeta. Ya lo sé, pellízquenme.
Podremos, posiblemente, ver también una refrescante apertura, ilustración y creatividad. Las artes y los artistas no serán vistos como enemigos. Quizás el arte sea explorado para descubrir las más grandes verdades. Cuando Franklin Delano Roosevelt ganó la presidencia con una victoria aplastante en 1932, lo que siguió fue Frank Capra y Preston Stugis, Woody Guthrie y John Steinbeck, Dorothea Lange y Orson Wells. Toda la semana estuve inundado por los medios que me preguntaban: “¿Gee, Mike, qué vas a hacer ahora que Bush se fue?”. ¿Se están burlando? ¿Cómo será trabajar y crear en un ambiente que alimente y apoye el cine y las artes, la ciencia y los inventos, y la libertad de ser lo que uno quiere? ¡Miren cómo florecen mil flores!
No tenemos demasiado tiempo. Hay mucho trabajo por hacer. Pero ésta es la semana para que todos nosotros nos deleitemos en este gran momento. Sean humildes. No traten a los republicanos en sus vidas en la forma en que ellos los trataron los últimos ocho años. Muéstrenles la gracia y la bondad que irradió Barack Obama a través de toda su campaña. Aunque le dijeron de todo, se negó a rebajarse a la cloaca y devolver la suciedad. ¿Podremos seguir su ejemplo? Sé que será difícil.
Quiero agradecer a todos los que dieron su tiempo y sus recursos para que esta victoria ocurriera. Ha sido un largo camino y se le ha hecho un enorme daño a este gran país, sin hablar de los muchos que perdieron sus puestos, quebraron por las cuentas médicas o sufrieron porque alguien querido era enviado a Irak. Ahora trabajaremos para reparar este daño, y no será fácil.
Pero ¡qué manera de empezar! Barack Hussein Obama, el 44º presidente de los Estados Unidos. Guau. Seriamente. Guau.
www.michaelmoore.com.
Hubo otra importante “primera” noche. Nunca antes en nuestra historia había sido elegido presidente durante un tiempo de guerra un candidato antibélico confeso. Espero que el presidente electo Obama recuerde eso cuando tenga que considerar expandir la guerra en Afganistán. La fe que tenemos ahora se perderá si se olvida el tema principal por el cual derrotó a sus colegas demócratas en las primarias y luego a un gran héroe de la guerra en la elección general: el pueblo de Estados Unidos está cansado de la guerra. Harto. Y el martes su voz fue fuerte y clara.
Han pasado 44 inexcusables años desde que un demócrata que se postula para presidente recibió sólo el 51 por ciento de los votos. Eso es porque a la mayoría de los estadounidenses no les gustan los demócratas. Los ven como que pocas veces tienen las agallas para hacer el trabajo y defender a los trabajadores que ellos dicen que apoyan. Bueno, acá tienen la oportunidad. Se les entregó, vía un público votante, en la forma de un hombre que no es uno cualquiera del partido, no es un burócrata de por vida. ¿Se convertirá ahora en uno de ellos o los obligará a ser más como él? Rogamos que sea esto último.
Pero hoy celebramos este triunfo de la decencia sobre el ataque personal, de la paz sobre la guerra, de la inteligencia sobre la creencia de que Adán y Eva montaban dinosaurios hace apenas 6000 años. ¿Cómo será tener un presidente inteligente? La ciencia, desterrada durante ocho años, volverá. Imaginen apoyar a las mentes superiores de nuestro país mientras ellos se dedican a curar enfermedades, descubrir nuevas formas de energía y trabajar para salvar al planeta. Ya lo sé, pellízquenme.
Podremos, posiblemente, ver también una refrescante apertura, ilustración y creatividad. Las artes y los artistas no serán vistos como enemigos. Quizás el arte sea explorado para descubrir las más grandes verdades. Cuando Franklin Delano Roosevelt ganó la presidencia con una victoria aplastante en 1932, lo que siguió fue Frank Capra y Preston Stugis, Woody Guthrie y John Steinbeck, Dorothea Lange y Orson Wells. Toda la semana estuve inundado por los medios que me preguntaban: “¿Gee, Mike, qué vas a hacer ahora que Bush se fue?”. ¿Se están burlando? ¿Cómo será trabajar y crear en un ambiente que alimente y apoye el cine y las artes, la ciencia y los inventos, y la libertad de ser lo que uno quiere? ¡Miren cómo florecen mil flores!
No tenemos demasiado tiempo. Hay mucho trabajo por hacer. Pero ésta es la semana para que todos nosotros nos deleitemos en este gran momento. Sean humildes. No traten a los republicanos en sus vidas en la forma en que ellos los trataron los últimos ocho años. Muéstrenles la gracia y la bondad que irradió Barack Obama a través de toda su campaña. Aunque le dijeron de todo, se negó a rebajarse a la cloaca y devolver la suciedad. ¿Podremos seguir su ejemplo? Sé que será difícil.
Quiero agradecer a todos los que dieron su tiempo y sus recursos para que esta victoria ocurriera. Ha sido un largo camino y se le ha hecho un enorme daño a este gran país, sin hablar de los muchos que perdieron sus puestos, quebraron por las cuentas médicas o sufrieron porque alguien querido era enviado a Irak. Ahora trabajaremos para reparar este daño, y no será fácil.
Pero ¡qué manera de empezar! Barack Hussein Obama, el 44º presidente de los Estados Unidos. Guau. Seriamente. Guau.
miércoles, 5 de noviembre de 2008
I have a dream. Martin Luther King
I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.
Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.
But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.
In a sense we've come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the "unalienable Rights" of "Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness." It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds."
But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. And so, we've come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice.
We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of Now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.
It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. And those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. And there will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.
But there is something that I must say to my people, who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice: In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force.
The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom.
We cannot walk alone.
And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead.
We cannot turn back.
There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their self-hood and robbed of their dignity by a sign stating: "For Whites Only." We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until "justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream."
I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. And some of you have come from areas where your quest -- quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive. Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.
Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends.
And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."
I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.
I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of "interposition" and "nullification" -- one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; "and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together."
This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to the South with.
With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.
And this will be the day -- this will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with new meaning:
My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing.
Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrim's pride,
From every mountainside, let freedom ring!
And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true.
And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire.
Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York.
Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania.
Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado.
Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California.
But not only that:
Let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia.
Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee.
Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi.
From every mountainside, let freedom ring.
And when this happens, when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual:
Free at last! Free at last!
Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!
Let's do it. Ella Fitzgerald
Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.
But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.
In a sense we've come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the "unalienable Rights" of "Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness." It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds."
But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. And so, we've come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice.
We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of Now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.
It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. And those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. And there will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.
But there is something that I must say to my people, who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice: In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force.
The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom.
We cannot walk alone.
And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead.
We cannot turn back.
There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their self-hood and robbed of their dignity by a sign stating: "For Whites Only." We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until "justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream."
I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. And some of you have come from areas where your quest -- quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive. Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.
Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends.
And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."
I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.
I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of "interposition" and "nullification" -- one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; "and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together."
This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to the South with.
With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.
And this will be the day -- this will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with new meaning:
My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing.
Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrim's pride,
From every mountainside, let freedom ring!
And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true.
And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire.
Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York.
Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania.
Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado.
Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California.
But not only that:
Let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia.
Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee.
Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi.
From every mountainside, let freedom ring.
And when this happens, when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual:
Free at last! Free at last!
Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!
Let's do it. Ella Fitzgerald
"Ella Fitzgerald está más allá de cualquier categoría" Duke Ellington
sábado, 1 de noviembre de 2008
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