Apallissada en un prat

En aquells territoris subjectes a un poder central fort i a un sistema judicial centralitzat, les persecucions haurien estat menors o, fins i tot, inexistents (i. e. Castella, Anglaterra, França). Per contra, les grans caceres de bruixes haurien tingut lloc en territoris amb una major autonomia de les elits locals i un ús habitual del turment judicial [...]

Aquesta dinàmica resulta especialment evident en el cas català, en què la immensa majoria de les actuacions contra la bruixeria foren dutes a terme per tribunals autònoms allunyats d'instàncies centralitzades com la Reial Audiència o el Sant Ofici de la Inquisició. Contràriament a l'opinió més estesa entre el públic no especialitzat, la justícia reial i inquisitorial a Catalunya intentaria de manera infructuosa intervenir en un fenomen antibruixesc que sovint es gestava, esclatava i es resolia a les mateixes comunitats vilatanes [...] Les poques dones que aconseguien portar el seu cas davant el tribunal inquisitorial de Barcelona acabarien sent absoltes o condemnades a penes lleus –amb comptades excepcions–, en consonància amb la visió escèptica del Consell de la Suprema Inquisició (la Suprema) respecte al crim de la bruixeria.

Our weakest spot

–Perlman: You are too smart not to know how rare, how special what you two had was.

–Elio: Oliver, was Oliver.

–Perlman: Parce-que c'etait lui, parce-que c'etait moi.

–Elio: Oliver may be intelligent but...

–Perlman: No, he was more than intelligent. What you two had, had everything and nothing with intelligence. He was good, you both were lucky to find each other because you too are good.

–Elio: I think he was better than me.

–Perlman: I'm sure he says the same thing of you. And when you least expect it, Nature has cunning ways to find our weakest spot. Just rembeber: I'm here. Right now you may not want to feel anything. Maybe you never wanted to feel anything, and maybe it’s not to me you want to speak about these things, but feel something you obviously did. Look, you had a beautiful friendship, maybe more than a friendship. And I envy you. In my place, most parents would hope the whole thing goes away, or pray that their sons land on their feet. But I am not such a parent. We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster, that we go bankrupt by the age of 30, and have less to offer each time we start with someone new. But to make you feel nothing so as not to feel anything, what a waste! Have I spoken out of turn? Then I’ll say one more thing it'll clear the air. I may have come close but I never had what you two have. Something always held me back, her stood in the way. How you live your life is your business, just remember our hearts and our bodies are given to us only once, and before you know it, your heart is worn out, and as for your body, there comes a point when no one looks at it, much less wants to come near it. Right now there's sorrow, pain: don't kill it, and with it, the joy you felt.


Call me by your name, Luca Guadagnino.

Nothing gold can stay

Fear fun, fear love.
Fresh out of fucks, forever
Trying to be stronger for you.
Ice cream, ice queen,
I dream in jeans and leather.
Life's dream. I'm sweet for you.
 
Oh god, miss you on my lips.
It's me, your little Venice bitch.
On the stoop with the neighborhood kids,
Calling out, bang bang, kiss kiss.
 
You're in the yard, I light the fire.
And as the summer fades away,
Nothing gold can stay.
You write, I tour, we make it work.
You're beautiful and I'm insane.
We're American-made.
 
Give me Hallmark
One dream, one life, one lover.
Paint me happy and blue.
Norman Rockwell.
No hype under our covers,
It's just me and you.
 
Oh god, miss you on my lips
It's me, your little Venice bitch
On the stoop with the neighborhood kids
Callin' out, bang bang, kiss kiss.
+.+.+
 
Young baby is back in town now.
You should come, come over.
We'll be hanging around now.
You should come, come over.

Oh god, I love him on my lips.
It's me, your little Venice bitch.
Touch me with your fingertips.
It's me, your little Venice bitch.
 
Out back in the garden
We're getting high now, because we're older.
Be myself, I like diamonds.
My baby crimson and clover.
 
If you weren't mine, 
I'd be Jealous of your love.


Lana del Rey, Venice Bitch.

Komplett verrückt geworden

Eines Tages, in den Jahren des Träumens und entrückten Pläneschmiedens, kam Speers Vater nach Berlin. Nicht ohne Stolz führte ihn der berühmt gewordene Sohn durch die Akademie, sah mit ihm die Unzahl der Entwürfe durch, die sich inzwischen angehäuft hatte, und erlauterte ihm die Gebäude an der Modellstrasse. Kopfschütelnd, mit unverkennbarem Befremden, wanderten die Blicke des alten Mannes zwischen den Plänen und seinem ereiferten Sohn hind und her. Am Ende hob er nur die Schultern un sagte: "Ihr seid komplett verrückt geworden!".


[Un dia, en els anys de somnis i d'elaboració de plans desmesurats, el pare de Speer va visitar Berlín. No sense orgull, l'ara famós fill el va guiar per l'Acadèmia, van fer un cop d'ull plegats als incomptables plànols que havia anat acumulant, i li va detallar els edificis de les maquetes. Movent el cap, amb un evident desconcert, les mirades del vell es movien entre els plànols i el seu excitat fill. Al final, el pare de Speer va aixecar les espatlles i va dir: "Us heu tornat completament bojos!".]


Speer: Eine Biographie, Joachim Fest.

Moments estel·lars de la humanitat

Hemos querido hacer conscientes a los turistas de que ellos tienen algo a hacer en este sentido, y es no explicar que han estado en la ciudad, no explicar los tesoros que han conocido, y hacerlos cómplices, como cuando uno va a un lugar y decide no explicarlo, o como cuando uno va a la montaña a cazar setas y no lo explica.


Ana Menéndez, presidenta de la Federació d'Associació de Veïns de Barcelona.

Go ask Alice

One pill makes you larger
And one pill makes you small.
And the ones that mother gives you
Don't do anything at all.
Go ask Alice
When she's ten feet tall.

Go ask Alice,
I think she'll know.

Remember what the dormouse said:

"Feed your head".

And if you go chasing rabbits
And you know you're going to fall,
Tell them a hookah-smoking caterpillar
Has given you the call.
Call Alice
When she was just small.

Paul Kalkbrenner, Feed your head.

El misterio de la vida

 

Si te espera una luz encendida

en algún sitio.

y detrás de la puerta

unos brazos abiertos y unos labios

dispuestos 

a abrirse,

y a decirte,

adelante.

Si tienes eso

y sabes lo que tienes,

y lo cuidas,

entonces,

has desvelado

el misterio de la vida.

Karmelo C. Iribarren, Un lugar difícil.

[imagen, obra de Leticia Feduchi]

El Col·legi de farmacèutics

https://t.co/3u6nT31VKt

— Bea Talegón 🎗 (@BeatrizTalegon) 16 de juny de 2019

Em demanen una injecció de moral. Començo per això: guanyarem, no tingueu cap dubte que guanyarem. Això és imparable, absolutament imparable. També us he de dir que malgrat que guanyarem, i que no queda gaire, els últims 100 metres es faran duríssims.
[...]

La setmana que ve serà intensa, la setmana que ve passaran coses, el del ahí lo dejo es del Boye, no el vull plagiar. Ve un temps en què passaran coses. No guanyarem totes les batalles, també ho hem de tenir clar. Estem jugant bé, estem jugant amb estratègia. Acabarem guanyant la guerra, Catalunya serà una república independent. En Deulofeu us assenyalava el 2029; bastant abans serem una república independent. Però pel camí guanyarem moltes batalles, en perdrem algunes també. I hem de ser conscients que aquests 100 metres finals seran molt durs. Voldria fer una crida a tothom a la calma, no ens podem precipitar. Jo a vegades he estat amb el president: "És urgent, president! Fes ja el...". Què voleu que faci el President? Què hem de fer tots els que som aquí? Ocupar el port... Quin és el port que està més a prop d'aquí, el de Palamós? I què? No podem fer res de pròpia mà per la força, no és ni el nostre tarannà ni tenim la capacitat de fer-ho. Nosaltres estem seguint una estratègia. El que hem d'aconseguir, i estem fent passes positivíssimes i molt importants, i cada dia es veuran amb més dimensió, és forçar que arribi un moment que a tercers Estats els surti més rendible recolzar-nos que seguir sense fer-ho. No esperem que per pròpia iniciativa ni la Unió Europea ni ningú ens vingui a ajudar, això no passarà. Però nosaltres tenim una estratègia perquè els surti més a compte intervenir que no fer-ho.
Això portem temps fent-t'ho. La feina que s'ha fet des de l'exili és importantíssima. A partir que el president Puigdemont i el conseller Comín, i d'aquí a uns mesos la consellera Ponsatí, siguin eurodiputats, això agafarà un efecte multplicador impensable avui.
Des de Madrid, també amb el somriure de la Laura, i la Míriam, i els escuders que serem el Sergi i Jo, anirem a dir i repetir, una vegada i una altra amb educació i amb un somriure, que es posin com es posin que això és imparable, que nosaltres volem fer i farem el nostre camí. Que més val que seguin a negociar per pròpia voluntat o que ho hauran de fer forçats.
Com que això és imparable, ens en sortirem. Per això us demano a tots que agafem dosis extres de paciència, de contenció d'emocions, si no, no hi haurà qui ho suporti. Dades oficials del Col·legi de Farmacèutics indiquen que el consum d'ansiolítics s'ha disparat; sí, sí, no es cap conya. Els fisios també tenen més feina que mai perquè tothom està contracturat. M'han dit que també s'ha disparat el de viagra perquè amb tant d'aixecament, cinc anys d'aixecament, ja em direu com ho he fet perquè jo pensava que un aixecament era una cosa puntual però vas a l'escriptura de la fiscalia i al judici que hem viscut, i comença amb el llibre blanc del 2012 i acaba el 2017, i un aixecament de cinc anys sostingut, només de pensar-ho em fa mal.
[...]

Si perseverem de la forma que ho estem fent, cívica, pacífica, no violenta, som un poble que no defallim i que no defallirem. Portem 300 anys, com a mínim, intentant el nostre moment. Hem arribat més lluny que mai. L'1 d'octubre va ser l'acte de desobediència civil més important de la història d'Europa. A partir de l'1 d'octubre hem desconnectat de forma complerta. Aquesta generació no ens tirem enrere.
[...]

Entre la força de la gent i la feina que estem fent a fora, això és imparable; això, amics i amigues, és imparable. Paciència, perseverança. Tornarem a passar moments durs, perquè els tenim desbocats. Tenim enfront un Estat amb tota la força de l'Estat, però a més, en el cas de l'Estat espanyol, un Estat que no té cap escrúpol per fer servir tota la seva força de forma legal, il·legal o clavagueral, com ja ha demostrat. Un Estat que, com que en aquests moments està com una bèstia ferida, està rabiós, la repressió vindrà en les properes setmanes, i mesos, i s'incrementarà. Però malgrat això, si nosaltres resistim, persistim, això és imparable.


Jaume Alonso-Cuevillas, dinar groc a Amer, 16 de juny del 2019.

Más allá de esos tejados

En el cristal se refleja
la imagen de un niño viejo,

ve llover como llovía
en el patio del colegio,

siente que, como entonces, ahora
la vida también está lejos,

más allá de esos tejados
rojos y grises, de aquellos

que emborronaba la niebla
y hoy desdibuja el recuerdo.


Karmelo C. Iribarren, Un lugar difícil.

Un invierno en Nueva York

Saliste a la bruca, a comprar cachucha,
En otro países a comer basura rusa.
Te la buscaste como a todo un león,
Hiciste tanta fuerza que hoy te queda un cuarto de cojón.

Pegaste botones y pegaste hasta con la boca,
Y le aguantaste vainas a todita la asquerosa.
Subite neveras con cinco vacas dentro,
Y en un invierno en Nueva York te viste muerto.

Caía la nieve sobre el cuerpo adormecido,
Tenías hasta los intestinos entumecidos.
Viste una visión, una discoteca.
Bajo una enramada, dos morenas bajando cerveza.

Te llegó la hora, papi, como a Monkey Magic.
Súbete a esta nube y deposítate en tu calle.
¡Y coje un avión, coño!
O una yola al revés,
Tu no lo ves, llegó la hora de volver.

A veces la gente se quiere mover,
Quiere salir para ver.
Como es el otro bembé.
Te fuiste, te dite, viniste y qué hiciste.
Viste cómo nunca es como tu dijiste.

Cale cale, mama cule, cala cola.
Salí para allá, para depués darme cuenta
Que no hay de nada.

Tengo nueve años llenando maletas
Con media, panties y desdorante en descuento.
Voy a regalarlo cuando llegue adonde mi abuela
Y todo el mundo se pondrá contento.

Te llegó la hora papi como a Monkey Magic,
Súbete a esta nube y deposítate en tu calle
¡Y coje un avión, coño!
O una yola al revés,
Tu no lo ves, llegó la hora de volve’.

Todos vuelven a la tierra en que nacieron,
Al embrujo inconfundible de su sol.
Y quién quiere estar comiendo mierda y hielo
Cuando puede estar bailando algo mejor.

Te llegó la hora papi como a Monkey Magic,
Súbete a esta nube y deposítate en tu calle.
¡Y coje un avión, coño!
O una yola al revés,
Tu no lo ves, llegó la hora de volve’.


Rita Indiana, La hora de volver.

And the executioner was his father

The first time that Tom White saw a criminal hanged he was just a boy, and the executioner was his father.
[...]

The first hanging that Tom witnessed was carried out in January 1894. A ninteen-year-old black man, Ed Nichols, had been convicted of raping a girl and sentenced to be "hung by the neck until he is dead". The duty of performing the execution, wich hadn't occurred in the county for a decade, fell to the sheriff.
Tom's father hired a carpenter to construct the gallows near the southern wall of the prison, the only place where the ceiling was sufficiently high. The location was ten feet from Nichol's cell, and the condemned man –who maintained his innocence and still hoped for a reprieve from the governor– could hear the planks being sawed and nailed, sawed and nailed, the pace quickening. Tom's father was determined to make the killing mercifully swift, and once the apparatus was completed, he repeatedly tested it with sacks of sand.
[...]

On the day of the execution, Tom, who was twelve years old, stood on a tier inside the jail. No one shooed him away, not even his father, and he could see Nichols, who was dressed in his new suit, being led by Tom's father to the scaffolding, time measured in each step and breath. As Tom listened, a preacher read Nichols's finals statement: "Sheriff White has been very accommodating to me indeed. I feel prepared to meet death. My soul is at peace with all mankind." The preacher offered his own holy words. "Ed Nichols is to swing to eternity," he said. "Sheriff Death is on his black steed, is but a short distance away, coming to arrest the soul of this man to meet the trial at the higher bar where God himself is supreme ruler, Jesus, his son the attorney, and the Holy Ghost the prosecutor".
When the preacher finished, Tom heard a familiar voice. It was his father, reading the death warrant. The noose was fitted around Nichols's neck, and a black hood placed over his head. Tom could no longer see Nichols's face, but he could see his father holding the lever for the trapdoor. At two minutes before four in the afternoon, his father sprang the trap. The body fell before jerking violently upward. A sound of astonishment and horror rippled through the crowd. Despite all the meticulous construction, Nichols was still moving, still trembling with life. "He kicked and jerked around a long time," Tom later recalled. "It seemed like he would never give up and die". Finally, his body stopped moving and was cute down from the rope.


David Grann, Killers of the flower moon.

El demagogo

Desde la aparición del Estado constitucional, y de forma más completa desde la instauración de la democracia, el “demagogo” es la figura típica del líder político en Occidente. Las resonancias desagradables de esta palabra no deben hacer olvidar que no fue Cleón, sino Pericles, el primero en llevar este nombre. Sin cargo alguno u ocupando el único cargo electivo existente (en las democracias antiguas todos los demás cargos se cubrían por sorteo), el de estratega supremo. Pericles dirigió la soberana ecclesia del demos ateniense. La demagogia moderna se sirve también del discurso, pero aunque utiliza el discurso en cantidades aterradoras (basta pensar en la cantidad de discursos electorales que ha de pronunciar cualquier candidato moderno), su instrumento permanente es la palabra impresa. El publicista político, y sobre todo el periodista, son los representantes más notables de la figura del demagogo en la actualidad.


Max Weber, Politik als Beruf.


[Original auf Deutsch:
"Der »Demagoge« ist seit dem Verfassungsstaat und vollends seit der Demokratie der Typus des führenden Politikers im Okzident. Der unangenehme Beigeschmack des Wortes darf nicht vergessen lassen, daß nicht Kleon, sondern Perikles der erste war, der diesen Namen trug. Amtlos oder mit dem – im Gegensatz zu den durchs Los besetzten Ämtern der antiken Demokratie – einzigen Wahlamt: dem des Oberstrategen, betraut, leitete er die souveräne Ekklesia des Demos von Athen. Die moderne Demagogie bedient sich zwar auch der Rede: in quantitativ ungeheuerlichem Umfang sogar, wenn man die Wahlreden bedenkt, die ein moderner Kandidat zu halten hat. Aber noch nachhaltiger doch: des gedruckten Worts. Der politische Publizist und vor allem der Journalist ist der wichtigste heutige Repräsentant der Gattung."]

Don Pimpón y Epi votan a Vox

–Blas, voy a votar a Vox para echar a Pedro Sánchez de la Moncloa, ahahah.
–¿Pero qué dices, Epi? ¿Tú no sabes cómo funciona la Ley d'Hondt?
–No lo sé, yo solo quiero quitarle las llaves del Falcon, ahahaha.
–¿Pero no te das cuenta que si votas a Vox estás apoyando a Sánchez y a toda la tropa de independentistas?
–Pues no lo entiendo, Blas.
–Es muy fácil, Epi. En nuestra provincia de Barrio Sésamo se necesitan 1.000 votos para conseguir un escaño. Imagina que un partido constitucionalista tiene 998 votos, pero Don Pimpón y tú votasteis a Vox. Ni un partido ni otro consiguen así escaños, y todos esos votos, se pierden. Si esto mismo ocurriera en muchas provincias, se perderían cientos de miles de votos, y Sánchez y Begoña seguirían en el Falcon. ¡No huyas! Y aprende a votar con la cabeza utilizando la ley d'Hondt, porque si votas a lo loco, en vez de echar al okupa de la Moncloa se comprará otro colchón, y seguirá riéndole los chistes a los separatistas.


La Vanguardia: "El PP elige a Epi y Blas para convencer a sus simpatizantes que no voten a Vox."

The sound of that knife

Simco was out of the hole. He was back and everybody was aware of it. Anybody else might have gone unnoticed, but not Simco. He was a coldblooded killer.
It wasn't that he invited anybody's notice, he didn't. He was quite, polite, and if you didn't know better you'd swear he was recently graduated from some Ivy League college, maybe Yale, and then you might guess he'd gone on to serve his country for a few years, maybe as a fighter pilot. Clean-cut, handsome, with a good smooth jaw, you might want to introduce him to your daughter, do a little match-making, for he must have great genes. And he had those eyes, calm, non-offensive. Might be a marine, no, not enough fire in those eyes. The calm before the storm? Maybe. A cat ready to pounce? Absolutely not, for he was too relaxed, too sure of himself to bother with such aggressive games.
But then when took his shirt off and you saw his smooth skin and slim, hard-packed waist and hard muscled body, well, something didn't add up.
He had killed his punk. I don't know why, I'm just telling you what I know. He killed his punk, his sissy, whatever you wan to call him. He killed him in cold blood down in the shower room with a guard looking straight at him. He stood over his punk and calmly watched him die while the guard threw a roll of toilet paper at him from a distance trying to break it up. That's the truth. Threw a roll of toilet paper at him, which as far as I'm concerned was a brave act, for I wouldn't even have done that. I'd have got the hell out of there as soon as I heard the sound of that knife thudding into flesh. The killing thrust of a knife is not silent. It has a distinct thud, and if you ever heard it you'll remember it forever. Simco killed his punk right there in broad daylight in front of a guard who committed the brave acte beyond the call of duty of throwing a roll of toilet paper at him.
And then Simco calmly and voluntarily allowed them –for in short order there were a whole gang of guards present, all out of breath and none willing to get close to that bloody knife –Simco allowed them to take him to the hole where he remained for many months until he went to court over in San Francisco and was found not guilty by a jury, not guilty of anything because the jury of ordinary people couldn't believe for one minute that such a nice, clean-cut boy imprisoned at Alcatraz with all those monsters could possibly be guilty of murder and if he was he must have done it in self-defense to keep from being raped or mutilaed or maybe even eaten alive.


William G. Baker, Alcatraz #1259.

Els millors llibres de l'Iceberg 2018

 

 

Iceberg d'Or: Maximum city, de Suketu Mehta.

Iceberg de Plata: The Courtier and the Heretic, de Matthew Stewart.

Iceberg de bronze: A supposedly fun thing I'll never do again, de David Foster Wallace.

+.+.+

4. Les possessions, de Llucia Ramis.

5. Zinc, de David van Reybrouck.

The founding virtues of the new world order

In the closing sections of his Tractatus, Spinoza sketches the outlines of a radical and quintessentially modern political theory. His fundamental aim is to replace the reigning, theocratic conception of the state with one founded on secular principles. According to the theocrats, the state is the temporal representative of a divine order. The purpose of the state, in other words, is to serve God; and the role of the ecclesiastics is to tell the people just what it is that God wants. Spinoza says, in a nutshell, that the purpose of the state is to serve humankind; and it is up to the people to tell the state what they want.

Spinoza, like most modern theorists, grounds the legitimacy of political authority in the self-interest of individuals. He argues not only that everyone, and every thing, for that matter, is driven by self-interest but that they ought to be as well. "The more every man endeavors and is able to seek his own advantage, the more he is endowed with virtue," he says in the Ethics. "To act in absolute conformity with virtue is nothing else in us but to act, to live, to preserve one's own being (these three mean the same) under the guidance of reason on the basis of seeking one's own advantage."

It turns out, of course, that self-interested human beings have much to gain from cooperation. Spinoza stresses that human beings in the absence of an ordered society live in miserable circumstances. Like Thomas Hobbes before him, he envisions something like a "social contract," according to which individuals cede their rights to a sovereign collective in order to acquire the benefits of living under the rule of law. The function of the state, in this view, is to provide the peace and security that enable naturally free individuals to cooperate with one another and thereby fulfill themselves. Spinoza, with the pithiness so characteristic of his work, condenses it all into a lapidary formula: "the purpose of the state is freedom."

Unlike Hobbes, however, Spinoza does not present this social contract as a one-off, absolutely binding surrender of all rights by the individual to the state. Rather, Spinoza says, the contract is constantly up for renewal; and should the state fail to live up to its end of the bargain, the citizenry has a right to revoke the agreement. Furthermore, he maintains, there are some rights that no one is able to cede-such as the right to think and hold one's own opinions, or what he calls "the freedom of conscience." Finally, whereas Hobbes concludes that the terms of the original contract are best realized in an absolute monarchy, Spinoza concludes (albeit with a number of caveats) that justice is most fully realized in a democracy, for a democracy is most apt to express the collective will that legitimizes the state in the first place.

Spinoza's advocacy of democracy on the basis of individual rights was extraordinarily bold for its time, and it qualifies him as the first truly modern political philosopher. He was indisputably the forerunner of the theorists who would later underwrite the Constitution of the United States, the French Revolution, and the rest of the secular, liberal, and democratic order of today.

Spinoza did not invent the idea of a secular state founded on self-interest; rather, he observed it clearly for the first time. In the late seventeenth century, the bewildering diversity of religious creeds that grew out of the Reformation, the variety of human experience on display in public life brought about by economic development and urbanization, and the manifestly secular quality of allegedly divine rulers who emerged at the top of national administrations –in other words, the same combination of developments that made Spinoza's own life as a double exile possible– had already rendered the old theocratic ideals de facto obsolete. The "problem of authority"–that is, the source of the legitimacy of political power– had already become the subject of intense concern among thinkers such as Hobbes and Machiavelli. The defining move of Spinoza's political philosophy was to affirm this new world of secular self-interest. He embraced modernity as the foundation of a new kind of ideal-the ideal of a free republic. The very features of modernity that were then and are still regarded by many as its signature evils –the social fragmentation, the secularity, and the triumph of self-interest– he enshrined as the founding virtues of the new world order. His political philosophy was, in essence, an active response to the challenges of modernity.


Matthew Stewart, The Courtier and the Heretic.

The 2018 Best Iceberg movies

Golden Iceberg: Roma, de Alfonso Cuarón.

Silver Iceberg: Mauvais sang, de Léos Carax.

Bronze Iceberg: Wild, wild country, Maclain and Chapman Way.

+.+.+

4th: Wadjda, Haifaa al Mansour.

5th: Le souffle au coeur, Louis Malle.

The 2018 best music of the Iceberg

Golden Iceberg: Kaltes klares Wasser, Malaria!.

Silver Iceberg: King kunta, Kendrick Lamar.

Bronze Iceberg: Oh Jesús!, Vainica Doble.

+.+.+

4th, A galopar, Niños mutantes.

5th, Tristis est anima mea, Carlo Gesualdo.