Carlos Ruiz
Carlos Ruiz
Carlos Humberto Ruiz Gutiérrez, initially nicknamed El Pescaditobut gradually known as just Pescado or "Fish", is a Guatemalan footballer who plays for Municipal of Guatemala...
ProfessionBaseball Player
Date of Birth22 January 1979
CityDavid, Panama
shadow
somethings can only be seen in the shadows
morning memories eye
She wore an ivory-white dress and held the world in her eyes. I barely remember the priest's words or the faces of the guests, full of hope, who filled the church on that March morning. All that remains in my memory is the touch of her lips and, when I half opened my eyes, the secret oath I carried with me and would remember all the days of my life.
reality hypocrisy spokes
Julian spoke with the clear, unequivocal lucidity of madmen who have escaped the hypocrisy of having to abide by a reality that makes no sense.
boys men dying
They had parted as boys, and now life presented one of them with a fugitive and the other with a dying man. Both wondered whether this was due to the cards they'd been dealt or to the way they had played them.
too-late attention stories
Nobody had noticed, nobody had paid attention, but, as usual, the essential part of the matter had been settled before the story had begun, and by then it was too late.
important remembered
Nothing important is learned; it is simply remembered.
evil greed world
There was no more good or evil in this world than we imagine there to be, either out of greed or out of innocence. Or sometimes madness.
ideas stupidity excess
It seems that in the advanced stages of stupidity, a lack of ideas is compensated for by an excess of ideologies.
book past destiny
Delving into the past had unveiled a cruel lesson - that in the book of life it is perhaps best not to turn back pages; it was a path on which, whatever direction we took, we'd never be able to choose our own destiny.
dream sweet blood
A writer never forgets the first time he accepted a few coins or a word of praise in exchange for a story. He will never forget the sweet poison of vanity in his blood and the belief that, if he succeeds in not letting anyone discover his lack of talent, the dream of literature will provide him with a roof over his head, a hot meal at the end of the day, and what he covets the most: his name printed on a miserable piece of paper that surely will outlive him. A writer is condemned to remember that moment, because from then on he is doomed and his soul has a price.
heart broken scratches
Do you know the best thing about broken hearts? They can only really break once the rest is just scratches.
art blood literature
Literature, at least good literature, is science tempered with the blood of art. Like architecture or music.
rain towers gutters
The rain was still crashing down, angrily machine-gunning the large windows; it poured through the gutters up in the tower and funneled along the flat roof, sounding like footsteps on the ceiling.
army four-horsemen-of-the-apocalypse wind
Army, Marriage, the Church, and Baking: the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse. Fermin Romero de Torres - The Shadow of the Wind.