William Shakespeare

By | July 24, 2014

He wrote, for its part, the catalan poet Salvador Espriu who who forget their origins loses its identity. Aside from the biased and intentional applications making some of these verses, is certain that we will only know who we are if we don’t ignore where we proceed. Of something like us prevented also, ironically prophetic sense, the philosopher Jorge de Santayana by his famous aphorism: the peoples who do not know their history are doomed to repeat it. I.e., ignorance of the past we ineluctably conditions to return to make the same mistakes in the future. Perhaps because, as anticipated that exhaustive and restless connoisseur of the human soul that was William Shakespeare, the past is a Foreword by everything that happens in our present. To avoid the risk of repeating old mistakes, nothing better, therefore, traced footprints are going leaving along the way and with patience of forensic usually collect such printed letter witnesses which are the pages of the newspapers.

Thanks to them we avoid the danger of digging, be distorted or misrepresented the collective memory. The bad thing is that, many times, evidence produced in the course of the route only are retained by way of fossils in these funeral so little frequented salons that are the newspaper libraries. For this reason, until the next gust of wind just by deleting some traces of the road, I wanted to rescue those that I have witnessed and agavillar in this book. Not because the opinions formulated on them have importance in themselves, but because the facts and characters referred to constitute the small d Electra d’un temps, d a country, as I said, referring to another time, obviously, Raimon Pelejero, the singer-songwriter of Xativa. A minimum sample of this Electra, was like Valencia, cheerful and confident from the beginning of the third millennium, reflected in the articles that make up this book. .


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