lauril reblogged
The Architect of My Dreams.
I close my eyes and the first sound that comes to mind is not the traffic of present-day Caracas—which now lies miles away—but the rhythmic clang of a trowel against the concrete…
Gaudris Cutiño
@lauril
Médico Aventurero
lauril reblogged
If time were a thread: The December I would change to save a life.
The question posed to us by the Silver Bloggers community this week has struck me like a distant yet persistent echo. Would you like to be able to relive moments from your past…
lauril reblogged
Why has my heart always stayed positive?
There was something magnetic about the sound of chalk scraping against the green blackboard. Whilst other children saw algebra as a maze of obstacles or a dead language designed…
lauril reblogged
The Labyrinth of my First Job.
When our friends at Silver Bloggers @hive-106316 launched the challenge to talk about our first job, I stared at the screen for a long time.…
lauril reblogged
When the Heart is Renewed at Seventy.
Sitting in front of the large window in my home in Canada, I watch the landscape transform with patience that only the years have allowed me to understand. Turning seventy is not…
lauril reblogged
The day Math made me daring.
**It was 1968. At the time, I was a 13-year-old teenager with boundless energy, lofty dreams, and a natural aptitude for numbers that sometimes got me into trouble. I was…
lauril reblogged
I remember my first day of school as if it were yesterday.
I remember my first day of school as if it were yesterday At my age, lucid, I remember my first day of school as if it were yesterday. That first day of school at the San…
lauril reblogged
Tuning the Instrument: Languages, Piano, and the Pursuit of the Perfect Dream.
Tuning the Instrument: Languages, Piano, and the Pursuit of the Perfect Dream. As winter still blankets my neighbourhood in Ontario in white, and I prepare for the calendar…
lauril reblogged
The Silverbloggers Chronicles #28: The eyes with which I learned to feel the world.
In addition to my parents, those special people who are so important to every child, there was a woman named Esperanza, whom I consider my second mother. I don't know how…
