Asociacion de Escritores UPRRP Ex Alumni

This is certainly a well lived in entertainment area. I wonder if the light behind the tv would be distracting while watching it?

Internadas es una obra en la que la escritura se erige como acto de resistencia ante una vida asediada. Una reivindicación de las humanidades como herramienta vital para afrontar la salud mental y un poderoso recordatorio de que la palabra es, quizá, lo único que nos hace humanos.

https://acortar.link/VX6FAA

In 1912, a construction crew digging a new subway line broke through a bricked-up wall under Broadway and stopped.

On the other side was a room that shouldn't have existed.

A vaulted tunnel, eight feet wide, lit by nobody. A single railcar sitting on its tracks. Frescoed walls. The remains of a grand piano. A goldfish pond, long dry. Everything coated in forty years of dust, but intact. The station was exactly as Alfred Beach had left it when he sealed the doors in 1874 and walked away.

Beach had built it in secret in 1869, digging for 58 consecutive nights under Broadway while the city slept above him. He was working directly across the street from City Hall.

The men he was trying to outmaneuver sat in offices on the other side of the road while his crews quietly moved the dirt. He used a cover story about pneumatic mail tubes to get his permits, then built a passenger railway instead. In 58 nights the tunnel was done.

When he opened it to the public in February 1870 New Yorkers walked down into a waiting room with frescoed walls, a fountain, plush furniture, and a grand piano.

A single elegant car ran 300 feet on air pressure alone, pushed and pulled by a fan the size of a house. In its first year 400,000 people paid 25 cents each to ride it.

Beach spent years fighting for permission to extend the line to Central Park. He finally won. The bill passed, the governor signed it into law, and then the Panic of 1873 hit and the money evaporated overnight.

He kept the doors open a little longer, then sealed the tunnel and went back to editing Scientific American. He died in 1896.

The workers who found his station in 1912 were digging what would become the New York City subway system, the one that still runs today.

They broke through his wall sixteen years after his death and found the city he had tried to build, sitting quietly in the dark, still waiting.

René Magritte, The glass house, 1939.

Skeletons dance through kings, lovers, bishops, and beggars alike in this haunting Holbein classic.
https://mflibra.com/products/1896-rare-book-the-dance-of-death-by-hans-holbein-with-also-his-bible-cuts
This striking 1896 edition of The Dance of Death pairs Hans Holbein’s unforgettable woodcuts with his powerful Bible illustrations in a beautifully produced Victorian volume. Centuries after their creation, the images still feel startlingly modern in their detail, dark humor, and sharp reminder of mortality’s reach across every rank of society. A remarkable piece for collectors of macabre art, Renaissance illustration, and finely printed Victorian books.

Level capitalism...

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