Quan arriba el dia 8 de gener, desitjo tornar al desembre per celebrar el Nadal.

Desitjo que arribi Nadal per tornar a cantar nadales i recitar poesies; per reunir-me amb la família i celebrar el dinar de Nadal; per poder menjar polvorons, neules i torrons; per fer cagar el Tió; per quedar amb els amics i fer una “guerra” de boles de neu; per crear ninots blancs ben grans; per veure brillar les estrelles del cel; per dutxar-me amb aigua calenta; per anar abrigat de cap a peus; per poder anar a esquiar als Pirineus; per tirar-me rodolant per la gespa coberta de neu; per “cantar Quintu!” quan més ho necessito; per obrir regals i trobar-me amb el que més desitjo; per fer els meus somnis realitat; per veure als tres senyors de l’Orient i als seus camells; per veure als nens amb un pal de fusta a la mà per fer cagar el tió; per escoltar les campanes repicar; per veure als àngels volar; per muntar el pessebre a casa; per col·locar les boles a l’arbre de Nadal; per tornar a escriure la carta als Reis; per menjar tortell; per crida Bon Nadal a tothom qui passi pel carrer; per cruspir-me un gall farcit; per veure els pastorets; per cantar Fum, fum, fum i que en surti per les xemeneies; Per saludar a Sant Josep quan me’l trobi; per dir-li felicitats a l’Esteve perquè és el seu sant; per empènyer al dimoni i que caigui al forat de l’ infern; per veure passar l’estel i fer-li una fotografia; per menjar els canelons més bons del planeta; per encendre la televisió i veure “El Calvo de la Navidad”; per comprar molts números de loteria i que em toqui.

Per tot això i molt més, vull que sigui Nadal.

David Bonilla
4t C

Nick Vujicic was born with Tetra-amelia syndrome, a rare disorder characterized by the absence of all four limbs. At the age of seventeen, he started his own non-profit organization: Life Without Limbs. So,  Nick goes around the world presenting motivational speeches.

His life was full of difficulties. Nick couldn’t go to a normal school, but he didn’t have mental disabilities. He learned a lot of things, like writing using the two fingers on his left “foot” . Also, he uses a device that is inserted into his longest toe to hold things. Nick needs help with some things, such as travelling. However, he is able to living by himself.

Now, there aren’t things which annoy him. Writing, for example, isn’t a problem for Nick. But when he was a child, the other children annoyed him. And when he was eight years old, he began to consider suicide. After praying for arms and legs, Nick began to observe that his achievements were the inspiration for many people, so he began to appreciate that he was alive.

Lluís Jiménez
4t C

A friend of my father, Agustí, became disabled when he had a car accident on holidays in the Pyrenees. Since the day of the accident, he can’t move his arms or his head. The accident started when Agustí was driving the car with his family. They were near the hotel that they had booked. Then, Agustí’s mobile started to ring. The person who phoned to Agustí was a person from the staff of the hotel to confirm the room for the family. When Agustí was talking on the phone, a car in another track was overtaking a group of cyclists and then, the two cars collided. The only person who was severely injured in the accident, was Agustí (that he wasn’t wearing the belt) and he became disabled. His family only suffered a few scratches.

At the moment, Agustí is doing a course in a academy about marketing. His life is different now. He can’t drive the car because he’s afraid when he get into it and he goes every day on the train to the academy. Now, he takes much longer time to get from one place to another, because he moves on a wheelchair and when there are a lot of people, it’s difficult to pass between the crowd.

Normally, the people behave very well with him, but there are some things that annoy him: when there are a lot of people around his wheelchair and when he has to get up from his wheelchair to seat on another place. Also, he needs a lot of equipment since the accident: a motorized wheelchair, a special bed and a lift to up to the second floor.

Joel López
4t C

His name’s Max Price and he has been deaf-mute since he was ten. He had a car accident and he lost the aural and vocal skills. After the accident, he had to learn special skills, like sign language. Now, he knows five languages and he studies engineering at university.

Life is a bit different for him in some things. For example, in the beginning of his disability he felt quite bad because he doesn’t articulate any word. But as time passed, he assumed his problem and every time he learnt more things which helped him. Another thing that changed his life was his daily life. He learnt sign language, but if he would communicate with his family or friends, they should learn this language. So, they learnt this language and the Max’s life was a bit better!

There is a thing which annoys him. He feels really bad when he sees how people move their mouths. He would like to do the same thing and hear the different voices of people! Although all these changes, Max has the most normal daily life he can. Now, he can communicate with his family and friends by sign language and this is a great situation. For him, this situation is a treasure to enjoy better his life.

Eric Guirado
4t D

His name is Stephen William Hawking; he was born in Oxford, in 1942. One day, he began to feel weak and awkward, and went to the doctor. When he was twenty – one, the doctors diagnosed him a type of motor neuron disease, called amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS). Although he had the disease, that hasn’t stopped him to being one of the most talented scientists of the world, comparable with Albert Einstein and Isaac Newton.

During his disease, he didn’t stop investigating about cosmology. Nowadays, he is completely paralyzed, he can’t do definitely anything, like moving a finger and he has to move himself with a special wheelchair. It’s special because he can talk! He has a special program “connected” to his head, and anything he thinks the machine says it (more or less). Because of that, he can continue teaching at the university.

But there are some things he dislikes, like not being able to go out with his students to some places that he would like to go. But his wife has always supported him in all the situations.

Coral Suánez
4t D

Vídeo trobada de corals 2011

Once, maybe three or four years ago, I travelled to a small village in South of Africa called Chimoroa and I stayed there during a month. It’s true that it’s an unknown place but, it’s precisely the reason why I went there. I didn’t want to stay in a place just for fun, while lots of people were suffering around me; I just wanted to be helpful as much as I could. So, I went to Chimoroa because I had searched information about this place before travelling there and I had discovered that there was a place there where people can forget their poor living conditions for a while, a place where they all work together for everyone and not just for themselves, a place which gives them signs of hope despite poverty.

So, when I arrived there, the first thing I did, obviously, was visiting this curious place. It was situated near the coast so there weren’t so many trees or flora around. Nevertheless, the small building was made with wood and leaves. As I’ve said, it was such a small building, so it seems impossible that it could make people be happy. But, when I realised all the other things that were around it, I had to swallow my own words. Mr. Taku, the man who has managed this place and its motion, received me so kindly, and during all the afternoon he explained and showed me all the incredible mechanisms and inventions that they had built to solve their problems.

At first, they had to solve their problem with water, because there wasn’t enough for everyone in the village, so, with lots of wood and lianas they built a piping system that allow them to bring water from the small river, five kilometres far, to his village. They also have organised them in turns to go hunting or to collect fruits, but also to manufacture instruments which they used after to make small concerts around the bonfire at nights. I stayed there one of those nice nights and it was surprising how happy were they then and how they were enjoying the music that came from those rudimentary instruments.

But, the thing that really surprised me there was that every night, after dancing and laughing steadily, everyone got calmed and sat down quietly on some big trunks that they had put before around the fire. Then, a little girl took an old book that seemed about to get broken any time, with worn pages and a dirty cover. Even so, she started reading. It was always the same story about an old man called Burik, who, since his childhood, had dreamed of reaching the moon. He knew that it would be difficult, but he never gave up. Every day he picked up everything he found on the floor, though it was small or useless, and piled it on the same place. He did it throughout years and years without giving up, so, at least, one day he could accomplish his dream.

When the young girl stopped reading, there was a strange silence. It wasn’t an awkward silence, it was a different kind of silence; a silence that spread hope and strength from all the dwellers that always stared nowhere after listening to this beautiful tale. It was incredible for me to see how a simple book could be so useful and helpful to people when they got nothing at all, just themselves.

After a month, when I had to leave Chimoroa, Mr. Taku and all of the inhabitants organised a farewell party for me and after that, they gave me a small amulet made with wood that symbolized ‘NEVER FORGET HOPE’.

It was a soulful experience for me that I’m sure I’ll never forget, especially the most important thing I could learn there, that I’ll never be able to thank to Chimoroa people; being happy it’s easier than we usually think, with effort, value, dedication, patience and hope we will achieve everything we want, provided that it’s beneficial for everyone. We just need to work all together and never give up.

Lídia Roig Canales (2n Batx.)

One day ago they were in the same bed. And now they are in the same place, in the high school library and they sit in different tables. Carlos enters  the library; he says hello to everyone, except to Ana.
They have a strange relationship. When they are alone they spend very good times, but when there is anyone with them everything is different, they don’t talk with each other. It’s difficult to understand. Carlos talked to Ana and explained his decision. He prefers to be special friends. He says that it’s the best for them but Ana doesn’t think the same. Carlos is a difficult boy, but she loves him. And this is why she doesn’t refuse his decision. She wants to be with him. And she thinks that she can put up with this type of situations.

Carlos is older than her. She is sixteen and he is nineteen. Ana is really pretty, she is tall, thin, her hair is black and very long and she has got beautiful big and brown eyes. Carlos knows that she is a pretty girl but he does all  he can  to put in her head the idea that she is horrible and stupid. Why? Because if she thinks this she will stay with him, because she will think that anyone except Carlos will fall in love with her.

They were a nice couple one month ago, but now she is always sad. She has lost her smile, but she is going to find it because her friends are helping her. They know her situation and that’s why they are really worried. Ana doesn’t eat because Carlos says that she is fat, she doesn’t go to parties because Carlos doesn’t want it, she doesn’t wear some trousers or skirts because Carlos says that she can’t put on this type of clothes, she can’t eat ice-creams, hamburgers or chocolate because Carlos says that she must be thinner. Ana’s friends always talk with her to say what she must do with Carlos. But it’s impossible; she wants to continue with their relationship.

She is thinking about this type of life. She loves Carlos but is Carlos in love with her? No, he isn’t. If he were in love with Ana he wouldn’t put these rules in the relationship.

She is reading a book when she sees the answer to all her problems: “Behind an insecure woman there was a silly boy who was cruel with her”. It’s true. She is sixteen years old. Why is she always worried? Why is she usually sad? She wants to be happy!

Ana stands up, she goes next to Carlos and she says to him: We are going out together but I am not happy with you, I love you but I want to feel good with myself and you always say terrible things and rules to me. I am very young, so pretty and such an intelligent girl to stand you! I am going to be free, I will wear all that I wanted, I am going to go out with my friends, I am not going to cry, if I have a relationship with somebody I will say it to everyone I want and I won’t be afraid of a boy.

She is happy. And on the other hand Carlos is crying. It’s typical, when you lose something you know how important it is for you.

Irene Aguilar Artacho (4t A)

Once upon a time, there was a little book. He wanted that someone wrote on him an adventure story and he decided to start a journey to find a writer.

He started the journey the next day early. He walked a lot of hours until he found a house, in it, he saw a man through the window, this man was writing a letter on a desk. Satisfied, he ran fast to knock on the door. An old man opened the door, when he saw a little book in front of him, he took it and he put the poor book in the rubbish bin. Tired and disappointed, he began to sleep.

He woke up three hours later, then, he saw that he was on an enormous desk and saw a young man too. Suddenly, the boy opened the book and thought something, then, he started to write on the book cover: “The diary of an adventurer boy”. The book has been very happy always, with the boy.

Guillem Maurenza Illescas (2n D)

Al abrir la puerta, una bocanada de aire se estrelló contra mi cara. El aire, frío y enrarecido por los años de abandono, resultaba asfixiante. Reprimí las ganas de echarme atrás y crucé el umbral. Al otro lado sólo me esperaba la negrura.

«Tú, que me has visto crecer, me conociste desde pequeño y marcaste la vía de mi enseñanza: se te ocurre pensar que he madurado gracias a ti, pero no es cierto; no puede serlo. No traes contigo nada más que silenciosa soledad. Sigues creando las mismas ilusiones que yo creí. ¡Riges mentiras despiadadas y en ellas aprisionas a tantos ingenuos…! Muestras mundos llenos de puertas a vidas increíbles que conmueven corazones, pero el tuyo no; el tuyo no late.»

Encendí la linterna que guardaba en la mochila. “Todas las aventuras suceden entorno a quien lleva la linterna”, murmuré para mí misma. Cautelosamente, avancé por un pasillo flanqueado por altas y viejas estanterías de madera. El suelo crujía a mi pasar, levantando nubes de polvo brillante a la luz de mi linterna. Desde los estantes, los libros me mostraban sus lomos viejos y desgastados, carcomidos por el tiempo y la inutilidad. ¿Cuánto hacía que no eran leídos de nuevo?

«Tú siempre esperas, paciente, el momento de actuar. Como un cazador acecha a su presa, no eres más que una trampa a la libertad. Cuando consigues atraer miradas, no las sueltas jamás. Controlas todos y cada uno de mis pensamientos. Mueves los hilos de la imaginación que yo creía verdaderamente libre. Aunque tú estés en mis manos, yo soy el títere que danza a tu merced. Acompasas mi respiración, te apoderas de mis ojos y de mis emociones. Me haces sentir rabia, angustia y dolor por seres inexistentes. Me haces conocer miles de personas distintas, reír con ellas, ¡vivir!, pero son espejismos que has creado y que desechas una vez terminas de construir. He llorado ríos de agua salada mientras tú te empeñabas en mostrarme lo mismo una y otra vez. ¡¿Hasta dónde quieres llegar?!»

El pasillo desembocaba en una zona abierta, donde confluían pasillos de estanterías contiguas. Una única ventana grande y ovalada, se hallaba sellada en la pared de piedra. Probablemente, antaño, aquella entrada de luz natural fuera agradecida por los lectores que frecuentaran el lugar. Ahora permanecería cerrada para siempre. Entre el halo de luz de mi linterna, divisé varios escritorios distribuidos por donde me encontraba. Roídos por las ratas, parecía increíble que aún se mantuvieran en pie. Pronto encontré lo que buscaba: en el escritorio del centro de la sala, abierto por la primera página, reposaba un libro con portadas de cuero. La tinta se había ido borrando poco a poco pero aún se entendían la mayoría de palabras. Cuando toqué la primera página, amarillenta y apergaminada, se desenganchó del lomo. Escrita a mano, había estado gritando las palabras de un loco durante décadas:

«Me confundes diciendo que sólo transmites el mensaje de alguien como yo. Que sólo muestras lo que otros ya han visto e imaginado. Eres tú quien yo tengo, pero no son tuyas tus palabras. Si fuera por ganas de recuperar el tiempo que he perdido en tus fantasías, ¡te que-maría ahora mismo! Te apuntaría en un índice de obras prohibidas, te daría de comer a las ratas, o peor aún, te guardaría en esta biblioteca, sepultado entre las rocas de este antiguo monasterio, dónde no pudieras abrirte al mundo. Pero nada de esto tendría sentido, no puedo concebir mi tiempo contigo como algo perdido. Porque de entre todas, tus historias siempre han conseguido acallar mis inquietudes. Porque has brindado calma, alegría, compañía y diversión con tus utopías. Porque has abierto la puerta de mis sueños más allá de lo que la realidad podrá hacer jamás. Brindas compañía cuando la realidad la enfría, brindas felicidad. Porque hasta en las historias pesimistas hay un hilo marcado por la esperanza. Por eso, y más, no dudaría en abrirte de nuevo y disfrutar del viaje.»

Me quedé atónita. Puede que muchos dijeran que antaño existió un personaje que escribía cartas a los libros; un tipo excéntrico y chiflado y loco. Puede que fuera cierto, pero para mí, en aquél texto se encontraba el sentimiento de alguien que ha dedicado su vida a la lectura. A quien haya desengañado leer realismo y encontrar fantasía tras la portada, o al revés, no lo ha abandonado la cordura.

Sara Doménech Moreno (2n Batx.)

Cuando llegué a esa habitación, lo primero que me llamó la atención fue un reloj de Los Beatles que había colgado, ocupando gran parte de la pared que se encontraba delante de mí. Después, mi mirada se clavó en aquel libro tan insignificante, que tenía algo que no me dejaba apartar la mirada. Mi pasión por la lectura ya era incontrolable. Era interesante ver un libro sin ningún dato en la portada, al menos para mí. Eso me hacía sentir inquietud por saber el autor, o el tema, o únicamente si estaba realmente escrito. Un libro no es un conjunto de palabras escritas sobre hojas, sino un conjunto de conocimientos que alguien, en cierto momento, decidió dejar marcado. Me acerqué a él, aparté una hoja arrugada y vieja que tenía encima, y lo cogí. Medio segundo antes de abrirlo, mi teléfono sonó. Recordé que tenía que irme, que iba con prisas, y lo único que me había llevado a aquella habitación era un error, una equivocación al guiarme por aquel hotel, un tanto extraño. Sin pensar en los problemas que aquello podía traerme, me guardé el libro en mi mochila y salí rápidamente.

Apagué mi teléfono para desconectar de aquel estrés que llevaba tanto tiempo arrastrando, me adentré en un parque en el que un buen músico tocaba su guitarra, mirándola con ojos de enamorado. Sonaba Let it be. Me tumbé en un banco que siempre me ha llamado la atención por estar rodeado de unos árboles magníficos y grandes, dejé que los rayos del sol relajaran mi cara, y saqué el libro. Al abrirlo, mi cara de paz y armonía cambió a sorpresa, ya que el libro estaba completamente en blanco, con las páginas numeradas, pero en blanco. Seguí pasando hojas, hasta que en la página 142, encontré una frase, que sigue marcada en mí.

Benjamín Disraeli, un día dijo: “Cuando necesito leer un libro, lo escribo.”

Marina Martínez García (4t A)