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Ezequiel Quintana. Leandro del Villar. Luciano Mallemaci. Robertino Viglione. Recordemos los nombres. Que no tengan paz. Ninguno, tampoco el fiscal. Tatuatelo en los medios. Hazte fuerte con los pies descalzos en la tierra y con todo lo que de ella nace.
No dejemos de pensar O ser? Todo lo que sigue la norma? Desde el discurso, claramente muches diremos que no. Nos duelen los transfemicidios y travesticidios! Estamos juntes!!!
Vayamos por nuestros deseos!!! El tiempo es hoy!!! En contexto de pandemia, les abrazo a la distancia!!! Mi vecino era un travesti, de maquillaje barato, y ropa repetida. El personaje d Si alguien se burlaba, sacaba voz de hombre, y todos se asustaban, pero luego transformaba en voz de nena y te lanzaba un beso. Y todas las vueltas era lo mismo. Se fue parte de mi, me lo arrebataron. Se fue mi infancia, se fue la mitad de mi vida con ella.
No dije nada, mi padre tampoco. Llegaron muchos travestis, uno que otro personaje de la ciudad. Mi personaje principal. Mi musa preferida. Fuente: Reposteado. Cualquier dato sobre fuente originaria se agradece! No le gustaba.
Buenas tardes, estamos trabajando nuevamente si deseas participar como asistente Es totalmente Libre y Gratuito. Giselle Lapalma. Jump to. Sections of this page. Accessibility Help. Email or Phone Password Forgot account? See more of Las Marias. Log In. Forgot account? Not Now. Information about Page Insights Data. Las Marias. Ezekiel Quintana. Robertino Vigone. For the prosecutor it was a "sexual vent act" and not a gang rape. Let's remember the names.
Don't have peace. None, neither is the prosecutor. Let's start a "act of social vent", these scourges deserve everyone's repudiation and jail. NiUnaMenos 3J Hoy 26 de Mayo 18hs. Via Zoom! Las hierbas de Maria. Tips from Grandma Heal, mijita, with the sunlight and moonlight. With the sound of the river and the waterfall.
With the sea and the flutter of birds. Heal, mijita, with the leaves of the mint and peppermint, with the neem and eucalyptus. Dull yourself with lavender, rosemary and chamomile.
Hug yourself with the cocoa grain and a touch of cinnamon. Put love to tea instead of sugar and take it looking at the stars. Heal, mijita, with the kisses that the wind gives you and the hugs from the rain. Become strong with bare feet on earth and with everything that is born of it.
Get smarter every day listening to your intuition, looking at the world with the eye of your forehead. Jump, dance, sing so you live happiest. Heal mijita, with beautiful love, and always remember Maria's herbs. My neighbor was a transvestite, cheap makeup, and repeated clothes. Smelled like perfume and armpit.
Raquitic as a broom, long hair and badly cared for. The character on the block, whom everyone was bothering, but no one dared to face, simply because he or she, had much more street. If someone mocked, they would get a man's voice, and everyone got scared, but then transformed into a baby voice and threw a kiss at you.
I was afraid of him, for me it was like watching a quilter with arestine. When I was sent to buy bread, I crossed to the opposite sidewalk he or she was. One time, I got out of business and I was outside, he asked for a hundred pesos and I went out, in fact, my eggs broke on the floor when I dropped the bag. Every time I behaved bad, my dad threatened me that the transvestite would come around and abduct me.
I dreamed of it, woke up crying. My mom challenged my taita, literally said: I don't want you to scare the kid anymore with that charter. But I grew up and fear became a simple omission. I always saw him on the street, wearing the same clothes, smelling like perfume and armpit.
He always waved, called me the Pepe Cricket, but he didn't give him a ball. One time, I got in trouble with the boys from another villa, all because of the rucia over there, they were going to get the ridge out of me.
I was caught reaching the population, there were four, I was thrown on the ground and one pulled a blade, the other ran my shirt and I was found out. But in that moment, the transvestite appeared, three of them ripped out, except the one with the blade, the two almost tacit took a duel, the transvestite punched two shredded in the face and another in the hand. I was surprised, and I stood there, quiet.
I stood alone with him and he said, "I bet you it's because of the rucia of the other population, be careful, that one likes to get the kids in trouble". I said thank you, and he asked me a hundred pesos, I was fifty I passed them on to him.
He lit a cigarette and left. From that day on, I'd say hello to him, at least I'd shake his head, but if I went with someone, I always denied it. Perfectly he could have said something to me, but he was respectful, he played crazy, apparently understood perfectly what he meant to others, but he didn't care, I think.
My mom passed away from stroke overnight. We were at the wake, and at about 12 pm the transvestite showed up, it was with some roses he had taken out of there. Nobody said anything except me, who said thank you, he sketched me a smile and left.
At the funeral, while we were at the heartbreaking burial, I saw that from a few meter beyond there was that guy smoking a cigar, and in the distance he asked me Are you okay? I made a " yes " gesture ".
I was already 15, and still didn't give my first kiss, and the only one who gave me chance was the rucia I had ever gotten in trouble with, I didn't know how to do it. I think the transvestite looked at me for a long time he knew me by heart.
I remember he came up to me and said, " It seems like you still don't respect my Pepe Cricket ".
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