JESUS RODRIGUEZ VELASCO: Search this website 

^These images come from the time when I used to live in the rue Marie Benoist, a really small impasse by the Place de la Nation. Oftentimes, I wandered around the neighborhoods with my cameras just looking for something that would provoke my thoughts. I used to live alone. Upon

^I was going to travel to what I thought to be a remote part of the world in which there was a petrified forest. Large extensions of redwoods would have been surprised by the sudden eruption of the Mount Saint Helena volcano. What an undending verticality of stone, I would

^Alberto Montaner is not a girl. He does not have his ear pierced. He does not even have a pearl. He probably has never owned a pearl. If he has ever claimed to have a pearl, that must have been a metaphor. And this is exactly what we wanted to

Dear Alberto, ^Back in the year XXXX, when I was alone and living in an empty house, I suddenly phoned you. The books that remained with me were all out of their shelves. Or, to be more exact, there were no bookcases any more. The walls, then completely naked had

^The Virtual Library of Bibliographical Heritage is a cooperative project of the Ministry of Culture and the Autonomous Regions, which aims to distribute printed books and manuscripts from Spain's Historical Heritage by digital facsimile. This initiative will give users unrestricted access to sources which are, by their very nature, difficult

^For more than twelve days, my computer screen has been showing this image. I took it some time ago, maybe two years ago. I know I could figure out the exact date, the precise time, and even the particular people whom I was travelling with. All those details, but the

^Se trata de un proyecto fotográfico y literario. Ocupará los próximos tres años. Como máximo. Es parte de mi investigación, pero no en mi faceta de medievalista. Sino en otra faceta que me interesa cada vez más, y para la que aún no he encontrado un calificativo o un concepto

^Un personaje de ficción que dice enunciarse Juan Miguel Valero me recuerda ahora (entre otras cosas que viene a recordarme infundiéndome un sueño en los párpados) un poema de Guillermo de Aquitania en el que éste se decide a hacer un poema de rigurosamente nada, ni de sí ni de