#5cosas por las que ha merecido la pena estar vivo esta semana (113)

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1.

La obra del pintor polaco Daniel Maczynski «Lunatic».

 

2.

El tema «Arise» del cantante jamaicano Al Campbell.

 

3.

El artículo de Luke Fortney para Eater New York sobre el cierre de muchos restaurantes en la ciudad de Nueva York este año y donde cinco propietarios que han decidido bajar la persiana esgrimen sus razones.

Un extracto:

«The first months of the year are notoriously hard on restaurants. People cut back on spending, or stay indoors because of the cold. Restaurant closures are expected during this period, but the number this year was higher than normal.

“People are acting like bears,” says Michael Petrovitch, behind the Puerto Rican food stall Que Chevere. “They’re hibernating.” Between the last week of December and the first week of January, Eater confirmed over 40 restaurant and bar closures. The oldest, a deli in Bayside, was open for 92 years. The newest, a hot dog shop on St. Marks Place, lasted two months.

The latest round of closures shows what it takes to run a “successful” restaurant in New York City right now. It relies on investor capital, or extended work days, the right address, and maybe a deal on rent. While several businesses had come to the end of their leases, many others had hit breaking points: Restaurant sales haven’t bounced back to pre-pandemic levels, but commercial rents have, owners say. To learn more, we asked five restaurant owners about their decision to close.»

 

4.

El poema «Meeting at an Airport», de Taha Muhammad Ali.

Dice así:

«You asked me once,

on our way back
from the midmorning
trip to the spring:
“What do you hate,
and who do you love?”
And I answered,
from behind the eyelashes
of my surprise,
my blood rushing
like the shadow
cast by a cloud of starlings:
“I hate departure . . .
I love the spring
and the path to the spring,
and I worship the middle
hours of morning.”
And you laughed . . .
and the almond tree blossomed
and the thicket grew loud with nightingales.
. . . A question
now four decades old:
I salute that question’s answer;
and an answer
as old as your departure;
I salute that answer’s question . . .
And today,
it’s preposterous,
here we are at a friendly airport
by the slimmest of chances,
and we meet.
Ah, Lord!
we meet.
And here you are
asking—again,
it’s absolutely preposterous—
I recognized you
but you didn’t recognize me.
“Is it you?!”
But you wouldn’t believe it.
And suddenly
you burst out and asked:
“If you’re really you,
What do you hate
and who do you love?!”
And I answered—
my blood
fleeing the hall,
rushing in me
like the shadow
cast by a cloud of starlings:
“I hate departure,
and I love the spring,
and the path to the spring,
and I worship the middle
hours of morning.”
And you wept,
and flowers bowed their heads,
and doves in the silk of their sorrow stumbled.»
5.
La charla de Jeff Gunderson sobre la exposición de diciembre de 1969 «A Photographic Essay on the Black Panthers» que se mostró en San Francisco, de los fotógrafos Pirkle Jones y Ruth Marion Baruch, quienes viajaron intensamente con los Black Panthers en los años sesenta.