Peruvian Quotes

A Short Alternative Medical Dictionary Definitions courtesy of Dr Lemuel Pillmeister (also known as Lemmy) Addiction - When you can give up something any time, as long as it's next Tuesday. Cocaine - Peruvian Marching Powder. A stimulant that has the extraordinary effect that the more you do, the more you laugh out of context. Depression - When everything you laugh at is miserable and you can't seem to stop. Heroin - A drug that helps you to escape reality, while making it much harder to cope when you are recaptured. Psychosis - When everybody turns into tiny dolls and they have needles in their mouths and they hate you and you don't care because you have THE KNIFE! AHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Amy: Pond and her boys . . . my poncho boys. If we're going to die, let's die looking like a peruvian folk band.

I have gone into town to buy a few last things we need for the expedition: Peruvian wasp repellent, toothbrushes, canned peaches, and a fireproof canoe. It will take a while to find the peaches, so don't expect me back until dinnertime. Stephano, Gustav's replacement, will arrive today by taxi. Please make him feel welcome. As you know, it is only two days until the expedition, so please work very hard today. Your giddy uncle, Monty

All of Nature follows perfectly geometric laws. The Ancient Egyptian, Greek, Peruvian, Mayan, and Chinese cultures were well aware of this, as Phi—known as the Golden Ratio or Golden Mean—was used in the constructions of their sculptures and architecture.

I know how lucky I am to have had such wonderful first and second acts in my career. I'm still not sure what my third act will turn out to be (Sexy Baking Competition Hostess? Flamboyant Peruvian Bingo Caller?), but if you happen to run into Betty White, tell her thank you. I'd like to be her one day.

The Peruvian flute music is . . . cool. In this music, they have not yet invented the industrial revolution that leads to excessive punctuality or the failed experiment they call the nuclear family. This is the music of elements, untarnished, unrehearsed.

For the D-Day spies were, without question, one of the oddest military units ever assembled. They included a bisexual Peruvian playgirl, a tiny Polish fighter pilot, a mercurial Frenchwoman, a Serbian seducer, and a deeply eccentric Spaniard with a diploma in chicken farming.

The sun's descent marks not just the end of another day, but a symbolic passage—a reminder that life, like the sun, moves in cycles, each ending giving birth to a new beginning.

Che abandoned his first wife, Hilda, a Peruvian woman of Indian extraction, for a taller, blonder trophy wife (also named Aleida). Their 1959 wedding in Havana was the social event of the year and featured Raul Castro as "best man." After he married Aleida, Che would continue to "upgrade" his women, taking the worldly Tamara "Tania" Bunke, born of German parents in Argentina, as his mistress.

It was a sad moment in Magnus Bane’s life when he was banned from Peru by the High Council of Peruvian warlocks. It was not just because the posters with a picture of him that were passed around Downworld in Peru were so wildly unflattering. It was because Peru was one of his favorite places. He had had many adventures there, and had many wonderful memories, starting with the time in 1791 when he had invited Ragnor Fell to join him for a festive sightseeing escape in Lima. 1791

Oh! the metempsychosis! Oh! Pythagoras, that in bright Greece, two thousand years ago, did die, so good, so wise, so mild; I sailed with thee along the Peruvian coast last voyage—and, foolish as I am, taught thee, a green simple boy, how to splice a rope.

Here, in the vast expanse of nothingness, one confronts the depths of their own existence, unburdened by the trappings of modern life.

Of all the evils which escaped from Pandora’s Box, the institution of priesthoods was the worst. Priests have been the curse of the world...Look at China, the festival of Juggernaut, the Crusades, the massacres of St. Bartholomew, of the Mexicans, and of the Peruvians, the fires of the Inquisition, of Mary, Cranmer, Calvin...look ever where and you will see the priests reeking with gore. They have converted, and are converting, populous and happy nations into deserts, and have made our beautiful world into a slaughter-house drenched with blood and tears – Godfrey Higgins (Celtic Druids)

But what do I do? I end up torturing myself with all this overthinking. I am trapping my consciousness in both the future and the past alike instead of relishing the present. No wonder the desert cries at night, in light of such thoughts.

The sun sets and it is another reminder of the sheer fragility of time, a reminder that death and decay are always closer than we think

Long ago I thought I knew myself, now my knowledge about myself is nothing but a empty shell…

Can I propose a toast to the fragility of life and the weight of mortality?

The night sky, a cosmic abyss, holds the promise of mystery and adventure, beckoning wanderers like me to explore its depths.

Of relevant interest, an 1859 issue of California Farmer and Journal of Useful Sciences offers a recipe* for a nutritional extract made from Peruvian seabird guano.

Happier than a cat in a Peruvian fish market.

The pre-Socratics frequently wrote their treatises in verse; the ancient Peruvian language had a single word-hamavec-for poet and inventor.

The magnitude of these shattering changes can perhaps be grasped by imagining that the invasion had been in the reverse direction and that the Aztecs or Incas had arrived suddenly in Europe, imposed their culture and calendar, outlawed Christianity, set up sacrificial altars for thousands of victims in Madrid and Amsterdam, unwittingly spread disease on a scale that virtually matched the Black Death, melted down the golden images of Christ and the saints, threw stones at the stained-glass windows and converted the cathedral aisles into arms or food warehouses, toppled unfamiliar Greek statues and Roman columns, and carried home to the Mexican and Peruvian highlands their loot in precious metals along with slaves, indentured servants and other human trophies.

The Incas, although an authoritarian monarchy, had succeeded nevertheless during their short reign not only in creating a massive empire, but perhaps more importantly in guaranteeing all of the empire's millions of inhabitants the basic necessities of life: adequate food, water, and shelter. It was an achievement that no subsequent government -- Spanish or Peruvian -- has attained since

The evidence that much of what divides us is rooted in our biology was compiled by the evolutionary anthropologist (and Peruvian political adviser) Avi Tuschman, in his transdisciplinary work Our Political Nature, in which he identifies three primary and relatively permanent personality traits running throughout political beliefs: tribalism, tolerance for inequality, and one’s view of human nature.

For example, Fujimori took office amid hyperinflation and a mounting guerrilla insurgency, so when he justified his 1992 presidential coup as a necessary evil, most Peruvians agreed with him. Fujimori’s approval rating shot up to 81 percent after the coup.

Here it is wished, as elsewhere, that women possess merit and virtue. But nature would have had to make them thus, for the upbringing they are given is in such opposition to the goal proposed that it appears to me to be the great masterpiece of French inconsequence.

All very ancient history, except that of the illuminated Jews, is a perfect fable. It was written by priests, or collected from their reports; and calculated solely to raise lofty ideas of the origin of each nation. Gods and demi-gods were the principal actors; and truth is seldom to be expected where the personages are supernatural. The Greek historians have no advantage over the Peruvian, but in the beauty of their language, or from that language being more familiar to us. Mango Capac, the son of the sun, is as authentic a founder of a royal race, as the progenitor of the Heraclidae. What truth indeed could be expected, when even the identity of person is uncertain? The actions of one were ascribed to many, and of many to one. It is not known whether there was a single Hercules or twenty.

Peruvian Amazon Company had committed virtual genocide in attempting to pacify and enslave the native population: it castrated and beheaded Indians, poured gasoline on them and lit them afire, crucified them upside down, beat them, mutilated them, starved them, drowned them, and fed them to dogs. The company’s henchmen also raped women and girls and smashed children’s heads open. “In some sections such an odour of putrefying flesh arises from the numerous bodies of the victims that the places must be temporarily abandoned,” said an engineer who visited the area, which was dubbed the “devil’s paradise.

Ancient Spanish ranching techniques were adopted—and adapted—all over the American continent and took slightly different forms, spawning different vocabulary, from place to place. Argentines call cowboys gauchos; Peruvians, chaláns; Ecuadorians, chagras; Venezuelans and Colombians, llaneros; and Chileans, huasos.

deep-sea-fishing boat, which they would buy, man themselves, and rent to vacationers—this though neither had ever skippered a canoe or hooked a guppy. Then, too, there was quick money to be made chauffeuring stolen cars across South American borders. (“You get paid five hundred bucks a trip,” or so Perry had read somewhere.) But of the many replies he might have made, he chose to remind Dick of the fortune awaiting them on Cocos Island, a land speck off the coast of Costa Rica. “No fooling, Dick,” Perry said. “This is authentic. I’ve got a map. I’ve got the whole history. It was buried there back in 1821—Peruvian bullion, jewelry. Sixty million dollars—that’s what they

Little by little one walks far.

Death is what gives our lives urgency, an awareness that time isn't infinite.

We all have to die one day, we might as well die with some obscure meaning attached to it.

I realised how terrible it must be to be at home everywhere for it means to be at home nowhere!

The euphoria born of surmounting challenges compels one to celebrate the very act of conquering. True enlightenment awaits beyond the confines of familiarity, but such wisdom is realised only in retrospect.

IF YOU HAD to select the least convivial scientific field trip of all time, you could certainly do worse than the French Royal Academy of Sciences’ Peruvian expedition of 1735. Led by a hydrologist named Pierre Bouguer and a soldier-mathematician named Charles Marie de La Condamine, it was a party of scientists and adventurers who traveled to Peru with the purpose of triangulating distances through the Andes.

The young comte thought nothing worthy his attention except what tended to give his country two chamber government. He left Mathilde, who was the prettiest person at the ball, with alacrity, because he saw a Peruvian general come in. Desparing of Europe such as M. de Metternich had arranged it, poor Altamira had been reduced to thinking that when the States of South America had become strong and powerful they could restore to Europe the liberty which Mirabeau has given it.

Dragon’s blood, an extremely potent magical material, surely ranks among the Top 20 most popular spell-casting ingredients. No need to emulate Saint George, dragon’s blood is the resin from Dracaena draco, an Indonesian tree. Unlike most resins it’s red, hence the name. If you burn it, it does indeed bear a resemblance to blood. (There is also another dragon’s blood, used in Peruvian magic. This one, too, is a botanical substance, although completely distinct from the Indonesian resin.)

Sounds of the river and wind, the tickling of the butterflies, the ice cold water and the company of some of my closest friends, what else would one want in life, whether fictional or not? Ah, to be as light, beautiful and carefree as this elegant winged creature!

The pleasure of being - a forgotten pleasure not even known to so many blind humans - that thought so sweet, that happiness so pure, "I am, I live, I exist," could bring happiness all by itself if one remembered it, if one enjoyed it, if one treasured it as befits its worth.

The Andes, guardians of this untamed land, seem to inhale deeply, exhaling a breath that whispers of secrets hidden within their mighty peaks. And I, a mere witness to this grand theater of nature, stand on the precipice, my soul intoxicated by the sheer majesty of the Andean sunset.

the firing of nerves in the amygdala, thereby dampening fear. Laughter, then, can help to temper negative emotions. And while all this might seem of purely academic interest, it could prove helpful when your partner breaks his leg at 19,000 feet in a blizzard on a Peruvian mountain. It is not a lack of fear that separates elite performers from the rest of us. They’re afraid, too, but they’re not overwhelmed by it. They manage fear. They use it to focus on taking correct action. Mike Tyson’s trainer, Cus D’Amato, said, “Fear is like fire. It can cook for you. It can heat your

TAWANTINSUYU In 1491 the Inka ruled the greatest empire on earth. Bigger than Ming Dynasty China, bigger than Ivan the Great’s expanding Russia, bigger than Songhay in the Sahel or powerful Great Zimbabwe in the West Africa tablelands, bigger than the cresting Ottoman Empire, bigger than the Triple Alliance (as the Aztec empire is more precisely known), bigger by far than any European state, the Inka dominion extended over a staggering thirty-two degrees of latitude—as if a single power held sway from St. Petersburg to Cairo. The empire encompassed every imaginable type of terrain, from the rainforest of upper Amazonia to the deserts of the Peruvian coast and the twenty-thousand-foot peaks of the Andes between. “If

My characters push the limits of the envelope when it comes to passion, love, and lust. They can be as elegant and distinguished as Lizzie's Darcy, or as wild and unrelenting as Cathy's Heathcliff; sometimes all in one bold personality. I also believe there is a wider universal mosaic on our planet than mere black and white. My contemporary healer/surgeon in the novel 'Hobble' is half Native American (Mayan Mexican + Peruvian, plus Scottish) and his lover is African American (African + European + American Indian). My people see the world differently; they're often mixed race or of a race, color, or nationality not normally associated with nor depicted in romantic and erotic novels or films as central, positively sexual, and realistic.

Sometimes we humans are like brainless chickens, we run around aimlessly and to no avail, we seem to be looking for something that we don't even know what it is, some sort of missing piece, which isn't even there. Why don't most of us realise that life isn't about looking for the missing piece, but actually to learn live with the fact that one might never find it and still have a happy and fulfilled life nonetheless?

I keep to the light and look through the windows of restaurants and pubs. I climb up the stairs of a theater and see people inside standing around in little groups on a red carpet and talking. There are tall tables some stand around with bowls of sharing food on top---nuts and crisps and dips and olives. I keep walking, past an Italian bistro in which people are eating seafood pasta; in another restaurant, two people have a huge plate of oysters between them; a man and a woman are talking animatedly about something they have on their table---a thick wad of paper that has text on it and notes written in pen---while they share food in a Peruvian restaurant. "Have you tried the scallops?" someone says. "Have you had time to look at the menu?" says another person. Two women, all in black, with instrument cases, are sharing a bottle of wine outside. A waiter comes out with a platter of sushi.

What I find hilarious is that these people looking for ego death, who want to become so enlightened are usually those with the most enormous egos. The huge egos seeking the egolessness, in order to show off how enlightened they are, all they want is to post on social media or write books about their journey. They actually want to find in it a way to seem selfless while still getting some selfish pleasure out of it. And then they have the guts to lecture you on selflessness!

I came very close to burning the document you have just read. They search outgoing parolees almost as carefully as they search incoming “new fish.” And beyond containing enough dynamite to assure me of a quick turnaround and another six or eight years inside, my “memoirs” contained something else: the name of the town where I believe Andy Dufresne to be. Mexican police gladly cooperate with the American police, and I didn’t want my freedom—or my unwillingness to give up the story I’d worked so long and hard to write—to cost Andy his. Then I remembered how Andy had brought in his five hundred dollars back in 1948, and I took out my story of him the same way. Just to be on the safe side, I carefully rewrote each page which mentioned Zihuatanejo. If the papers had been found during my “outside search,” as they call it at The Shank, I would have gone back in on turnaround . . . but the cops would have been looking for Andy in a Peruvian sea-coast town named Las Intrudres.

Wil shook his head. “He really had you hooked.” “What do you mean?” “You should have seen your energy field. It was flowing almost totally into his.” “I don’t understand.” “Think back to Sarah’s argument with the scientist at Viciente.… If you had witnessed one of them winning, convincing the other that he was correct, then you would have seen the loser’s energy flowing into the winner’s, leaving the loser feeling drained and weak and somewhat confused—the way the girl in the Peruvian family appeared and the way,” he smiled, “that you look now.” “You saw that happening to me?” I asked. “Yes,” he replied. “And it was extremely difficult for you to stop his control of you and to pull yourself away. I thought for a minute you weren’t going to do it.” “Jesus,” I said. “That guy must really be evil.” “Not really,” he said. “He’s probably only half aware of what he’s doing. He thinks he’s right to control the situation, and no doubt he learned a long time ago that he could control successfully by following a certain strategy. He first pretends to be your friend, then he finds something wrong with what you’re doing, in your case that you were in danger. In effect, he subtly undermines your confidence in your own path until you begin to identify with him. As soon as that happens, he has you.” Wil looked directly at me. “This is only one of many strategies people use to con others out of their energy.

countries. I can recommend the Peruvian llama-cheese ale or the Polish pierogi porter.’ ‘They sound revolting. You got any Guinness?’ ‘If you want Guinness, I suggest you cross the street and visit a public house.’ Howie took a step forward. ‘Do I look like the type of person who abandons his professional duties to grab a pint during working hours?’ The duty manager paused. ‘Do you really want me to answer that, sir?

When it comes to flavor, I am drawn to the Old World. I like liquor with hard-to-define tastes: the bitter complexity of Italian amari, the ancient herbs of Chartreuse, the primal maltiness of Dutch genever. And I'm also drawn to the wilder, untamed parts of the New World: the agave bite of real tequila; the earthy, rustic edge to Brazilian cachaca; the strange, dry conundrum of Peruvian pisco. I don't know why - I guess it's the same reason I like stinky cheeses, funky wines, wild game, or yeasty beers. I'm of a similar mind to A. J. Liebling, who wrote in his classic food memoir, Between Meals, "I like tastes that know their own minds.

Ayahuasca visions: The religious iconography of a Peruvian shaman, by Luis Eduardo Luna and Pablo Amaringo.

Marcy leaned forward to study the landscaping, tall cypresses encircled by Peruvian lilies looming over the guardhouse. She sighed, said, “This is a bit much.” Her husband said, “Baby, people love the illusion of safety and the spectacle of enclosure.” They were given bar-coded stickers for their cars.

My mom says I have the metabolism of a Peruvian weasel,” Kevin said. “I looked it up—doesn’t exist.

Look, Herb, I could keep you all here all afternoon, sniffin' and slurpin' pink Peruvian peppercorns and criollo cacao, and cinnamon and cascarilla and coriander, and caraway and carrot seed and so much climbing ylang-ylang you couldn't tell a cup of tea from a cup of turpentine.

We traded off. She could continue collecting Peruvian hairless cats. I could keep the tank.

the Inka style was severe, abstract, stripped down to geometric forms—startlingly contemporary, in fact. (According to the Peruvian critic César Paternosto, such major twentieth-century painters as Josef Albers, Barnett Newman, and Mark Rothko were inspired by Inka art.)

Graham smiled and filled it all the way, then said, “What the hell” and did the same for his own. He took a sip and made an mmmmm sound. “That’s a Peruvian varietal, from Ritual Coffee Roasters in San Francisco. I can’t get enough of their coffee. I have twenty pounds flown in every month, and it’s barely enough for my habit. Say, you’re from California, aren’t you?

In the early 1990s, the American government, in an attempt to persuade Peruvian farmers to grow something other than coca — the immensely profitable raw material of cocaine — began to subsidize Peruvian asparagus.

moment. “They’re just like la sirena de Huacachina,” I said. According to Peruvian legend, a young Inca princess turned into a mermaid centuries ago in the desert oasis now known as Huacachina.

Horror director, Eli Roth, showed villagers in a remote native village deep in the Peruvian Amazon the controversial 1980 horror film "Cannibal Holocaust". The villagers thought it was a comedy and the funniest thing they've ever seen.

Toward the end of her time in Madrid, people stopped asking her if she was Chinese and began asking if she was Ecuadorian or Peruvian or Nicaraguan. This made her happy. She though tit meant her Spanish had improved. At the time, she did not consider why speaking poor Spanish was equated with being Asian. She did not consider how speaking poor English was also equated with being Asian. How being a foreigner anywhere, an other, was often equated with being Asian. Asia, the East, the Orient, the exotic land behind a mirror where everything is backward and upside down.

Gaited horses are considered light horses, bred for riding with smooth gaits. Historically, these horses were bred for wealthy landowners. Today’s gaited horses typically excel at trail riding and showing. Common breeds include the Icelandic, Peruvian Paso, American Saddlebred, Tennessee Walking Horse, and Rocky Mountain Horse.

Lima exudes a distinct ambiance, akin to a heavy rain cloud casting darkness over everything. It is a challenging place, where life offers no respite and its inhabitants remain forever vigilant against adversity.

The Amazon, in all its enigmatic grandeur, embodies the paradoxes of existence. It is a place of untamed beauty and unfathomable complexity, where the fragility and resilience of life intertwine. It is a testament to the boundless wonders of the natural world, a reminder of our interconnectedness with all living beings. Here in the heart of the Amazon, secrets whisper through the rustling leaves, beckoning the curious and the intrepid.

Ah, Choquequirao, another lost city of the Incas, as massive and impressive as Machu Picchu but with far fewer tourists. Here somewhere in the heart of the Andean wilderness, where the jagged peaks pierce the heavens and the spirits of the ancients linger, lies Choquequirao, an enigma waiting to be unraveled by us.

As the sun baths the ruins in its golden glow, I gaze upon the terraces that cascade down the mountainside, seemingly suspended between heaven and earth. The stones are whispering tales of a civilisation long gone, but their voices carry on the breeze, reaching my ears with a poignant urgency. In this forgotten citadel, the ghosts of the Inca mingle with the echoes of my own restless soul.

Here, I stand at the threshold of the world, my heart entwined with the pulse of nature, my spirit poised to soar beyond the limits of my mortal form.

In Choquequirao, I found not just the remnants of an ancient civilisation, but a portal to the boundless realms of the human experience. It whispered of fleeting moments and eternal truths, reminding me that we are but temporary custodians of this world, etching our stories into the fabric of time.

Machu Picchu, oh the name alone evokes a sense of mystique, a whispered secret passed down through the ages. Here in the heart of the Andes, where the mountains kiss the heavens and the clouds weave their ethereal tapestry, lies this hidden sanctuary, a testament to the ingenuity of a forgotten civilisation.

The sacred Urubamba River snakes its way through the verdant tapestry, a lifeline that nurtures the land and the spirits that dwell within. In this sacred space, time becomes fluid, the boundaries between past and present dissolving. I find myself once again tracing the footsteps of the Inca, their energy palpable in every stone, every carved symbol that adorns the sacred structures.

I look back once again at Machu Picchu, a true testament to human resilience, a testament to the harmony between man and nature. It is a place where the earthly and the divine intertwine, where the mysteries of the cosmos are whispered through the stones. Here, one is humbled, transformed, and forever connected to the eternal dance of life.

Back in Zürich; a realm where the intricate machinery of global finance hums, where deals are struck, and fortunes rise and fall with the ebb and flow of international markets.

Oh, Biarritz, your nocturnal dance seduces me, beckoning me to surrender to the pulsating rhythm of your streets, to lose myself within the tapestry of your nights!

Everything in the pursuit of raw experiences and fleeting moments, where the boundaries of convention blurs and the extraordinary flourishes. A symphony of sensations and emotions intertwined, echoing the spirit of those who seek solace in this nocturnal playground.

Sentenced to fade under the weight of external pressures—the eternal cycle of life at its most poignant. Whether we embrace it or not, there it stands—the somber truth that everything changes, and everything will one day succumb to decay and demise.

Here in the heart of the Amazon, secrets whisper through the rustling leaves, beckoning the curious and the intrepid. It is a realm that defies human comprehension, inviting us to surrender to its mysteries and embrace the profound humbling awe that accompanies our fleeting encounter with this awe-inspiring wilderness.

The Amazon, in all its enigmatic grandeur, embodies the paradoxes of existence. It is a place of untamed beauty and unfathomable complexity, where the fragility and resilience of life intertwine. It is a testament to the boundless wonders of the natural world, a reminder of our interconnectedness with all living beings.

The night holds its mysteries, my friends, and tomorrow presents us with another opportunity for adventure!

Wil shook his head. “He really had you hooked.” “What do you mean?” “You should have seen your energy field. It was flowing almost totally into his.” “I don’t understand.” “Think back to Sarah’s argument with the scientist at Viciente.… If you had witnessed one of them winning, convincing the other that he was correct, then you would have seen the loser’s energy flowing into the winner’s, leaving the loser feeling drained and weak and somewhat confused—the way the girl in the Peruvian family appeared and the way,” he smiled, “that you look now.” “You saw that happening to me?” I asked. “Yes,” he replied. “And it was extremely difficult for you to stop his control of you and to pull yourself away. I thought for a minute you weren’t going to do it.” “Jesus,” I said. “That guy must really be evil.” “Not really,” he said. “He’s probably only half aware of what he’s doing. He thinks he’s right to control the situation, and no doubt he learned a long time ago that he could control successfully by following a certain strategy. He first pretends to be your friend, then he finds something wrong with what you’re doing, in your case that you were in danger. In effect, he subtly undermines your confidence in your own path until you begin to identify with him. As soon as that happens, he has you.” Wil looked directly at me. “This is only one of many strategies people use to con others out of their energy. You’ll learn about the remaining ways later, in the Sixth Insight.” I wasn’t listening; my thoughts were on Marjorie. I didn’t like leaving her there. “Do you think we should try to get Marjorie?” I asked. “Not now,” he said. “I don’t think she’s in any danger. We can drive out tomorrow, as we leave, and try to talk to her.” We were silent for a few minutes, then Wil asked: “Do you understand what I said about Jensen not realizing what he was doing? He’s no different from most people. He just does what makes him feel the strongest.” “No, I don’t think I understand.” Wil looked thoughtful. “All this is still unconscious in most people. All we know is that we feel weak and when we control others we feel better. What we don’t realize is that this sense of feeling better costs the other person. It is their energy that we have stolen. Most people go through their lives in a constant hunt for someone else’s energy.” He looked at me with a twinkle in his eye. “Although occasionally it works differently. We meet someone who at least for a little while will voluntarily send us their energy.

Friar Toribio’s writings show something else central to our story: Christian missionaries are relentless. Whether in Anglo-Saxon Kent around 600 CE, the Aztec Empire in 1530, or the Peruvian Amazon in 1995, they never stop and never give up; when proselytizing preachers fail or get themselves killed, they are soon replaced by fresh recruits who continue to push the Church’s package of supernatural beliefs, rituals, and family practices.

There are thirteen known breeds of guinea pigs and they look quite different. The different types are: Abyssinian, American, Crested, Peruvian, Silkie, Coronet, Teddy, Texel, Hairless, English, Merino, Alpaca, and a relatively new breed called Lunkarya.

This intensive two-year campaign by a public health worker in a Peruvian village of 200 families, aimed at persuading housewives to boil drinking water, was largely unsuccessful. Nelida was able to encourage only about 5 percent of the population, eleven families, to adopt the innovation. The diffusion campaign in Los Molinas failed because of the cultural beliefs of the villagers. Local tradition links hot foods with illness. Boiling water makes water less “cold” and hence, appropriate only for the sick. But if a person is not ill, the individual is prohibited by village norms from drinking boiled water. Only individuals who are unintegrated into local networks risk defying community norms on water boiling. An important factor regarding the adoption rate of an innovation is its compatibility with the values, beliefs, and past experiences of individuals in the social system. Nelida and her superiors in the public health agency should have understood the hot-cold belief system, as it is found throughout Peru (and in most nations of Latin America, Africa, and Asia). Here is an example of an indigenous knowledge system that caused the failure of a development program.

The third Preface for Easter tells us that Jesus is ‘still our priest, our advocate who always pleads our cause. Christ is the victim who dies no more, the Lamb once slain who lives forever.’ The original Latin is more paradoxical: Jesus is ‘agnus qui vivit semper occisus’; the lamb who lives forever slain.’ If the risen Lord did not still have his wounds, then he would not have much to do with us now. The resurrection might promise us some future healing and eternal life, but it would leave us now alone in our present hurting. But because of Easter Day we already share in the victory. He still shares our wounds and we share his victory of death. We too are now wounded and healed. When Brian Pierce OP first went to Peruvian Andes, he was surprised by the ubiquitous images of the crucified Christ, covered with blood. It seemed as if the faith of these indigenous people stopped prior to the resurrection and they were left only with images of defeat. But he learned that he was wrong. These crosses are signs of how the risen Christ is now sharing their crucifixion. We can have courage and risk getting hurt. Charles Peguy, the French writer, told the story of a man who died and went to heaven. When he met the recording angel he was asked, ‘Show me your wounds.’ And he replied, ‘Wounds? I have not got any.’ And the angel said, ‘Did you never think that anything was worth fighting for?

Melancholy seems to be running strong among us right now, bypassing our safeguards and infiltrate our well guarded fortresses, our most sacred places, our hearts and minds.

Like a moth is drawn to the light we are drawn to melancholy, we succumb to it.

The empires of steel are gone, replaced by empires of silicone.

Well, faced with our mortality, we create stories of immortality. We strive to leave behind echoes of ourselves, reaching for infinity, eternity, on a finite, terminally ill planet!

What remains of the world at the end?” She asked him. “The noise of machines, newspapers, bombs, the craziness in the big cities, all of this will be forgotten tomorrow. And then, what remains? What remains, my dear, will never be the world, but only the gods.

And don't forget some vital truth Ian… Points of view can go both ways, it is like a double edged sword, it can cut both ways. Thus it is crucial to stay focused on one’s point of view, otherwise one can get lost in the viewpoints of others, even be engulfed by them and losing ones own path in life. Be careful when you assume someone else’s point of view, it might end up destroying your own and you end up lost in their mind, without a compass back to your own mind!

In the world of international finance, power is concentrated in the hands of a few, the gatekeepers of capital who hold the keys to the world's resources. Their decisions, shrouded in secrecy, have the ability to shape the destiny of nations, redefine the distribution of wealth and power.

We live in strange times, being bombarded with information 24/7, having a hard time to distinguish between reality and hyperreality, between what is fake and what is real. I guess having strange dreams might be the most normal thing we can experience nowadays. As paradoxically as that sounds

Hope has then also effectively been automated and even been digitalised.

Ah, the Pacific, the silent witness to Lima's relentless evolution since its founding, what are your secrets, will you ever tell us?

All we do is disguise our weak politics behind a powerful bureaucracy and disguise our powerful bureaucracy behind weak political decision making.

Another abyss that we have cross, another abyss that we have to stare into in the hope it won't stare back to us.

Watching as the water moves along I am once again reminded of the endless passing of time, the cruelty of it, how curial and amazing is it that no moment can last forever, and thus we have to learn to live with our mortality,

On the other side of the shore the lighthouse starts up again, illuminating the night and the river delta, casting its deep yellow light over the immediate surroundings. I once agin shiver despite the tropical heat. Another Peruvian night has dawned and with it another shot at hope is gone.

The name itself, Carcosa, sounds like a secret code or something…

As Carcosa crumbled away, it was like the end of an era. That mysterious glow around it faded, leaving just traces of what used to be. It felt like a story within the story. The name Carcosa, which used to sound like some secret code, now just hangs in the air like a faint memory.