In effect, it has been peculiar insofar as the dismantling of the dictatorship was carried out starting from the own normative procedures of the current legal regime; to the extent that during the process that legality was radically transformed; and in that indirect way was chosen in order to avoid confrontation with the repressive apparatus of the dictatorship. The Spanish parliament in context. It provides an overview of the historical context and redemocratisation and It then traces the significant changes in the party system and the patterns of governance, particularly related to minority and majority cabinets.
Finally, it reviews the establishment of regional parliaments and political decentralisation, which dispersed policy-making authority. Caroline Gray.
Las europeas se consolidan como unas elecciones distintas. Las elecciones al Parlamento Europeo son, para muchos, unos comicios de segundo orden The military is an important factor for the success or failure of democratisation processes. Portugal and Spain provide two paradigmatic cases. Despite their socio-economic, political and cultural similarities, these countries developed Despite their socio-economic, political and cultural similarities, these countries developed very different civil-military relations which significantly impacted their transitions. After having handed power over to a civilian dictator, Salazar, the Portuguese military eventually caused the downfall of his authoritarian Estado Novo regime and steered the transition to democracy.
Drawing on primary and secondary sources, this interdisciplinary article contrasts the challenges posed by the military and the policies implemented by the Iberian governments to depoliticise and control it. Since that day have not had evidence that he is alive, but authorities say that they do not lose hope. To clarify the circumstances of the fall, in a well that was devoid of signage, the Civil Guard questioned parents, the owner of the land and the pocero which did the survey. A Malaga Court opened proceedings on the case. Original source in Spanish. In this note: Original source in Spanish.
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Without a word, the bartender reached for a beer mug, placing it under the tap. The green-eyed man shook his head, raising his right wrist and flicking his index and middle fingers together lazily towards the liquors. Just low enough to be heard, he began to hum as he slowly poured. Tears, sparkling against the neon signs and soft glow of his cigarette, escaped his eyes before disappearing between in his thick beard hairs, with only thin, faint traces hinting that such a thing had ever occurred.
The man stiffened suddenly, and the bartender passed him one of the drinks, nearly filled to the brim. The familiar sound of glass gliding across the oiled wood was uncomfortably audible against the dismal silence that had fallen over the barroom. Only the occasional gust of wind and snowfall pounding against the walls offered any change from the uneasy atmosphere.
The green-eyed man inhaled slowly, and reached to take the cigarette from his mouth, laying it on the ash tray. He exhaled; short, shaky breaths, as if coughing or choking, causing smoke to pillow and cloud abnormally around him. His hand hovered cautiously across the table to close tentatively around the glass; the barman held his own glass aloft an inch or so over the bar. Those green eyes never met their companions, and instead the man softly tapped his whiskey-filled glass twice on the table before raising it to his lips.
The barman seemed to take no offense, and likewise lifted his, and they drank together. A sharp, squeaking sound broke through monotonous air, followed by the screech of brakes being applied viciously to a spinning axle. Their athletic, tall, lean figures, their sprayed, stylish haircuts, their brand new, bright baby-blue denim jeans; all of it screamed of new-town angst. The bartender muttered something between an apology and a curse towards the green-eyed man.
He quickly poured another round, before turning to make his way angrily towards the brash young boys, both of whom were unfazed. Soon, most of the rest of the patrons stood to leave, paying hurriedly while staring daggers at the unwelcomed strangers.
The boys paid them no mind, however, and greedily grabbed their drinks, toasting their many successes of the day. A good few stools down from them, the green-eyed man stared blankly into his rich brown drink, as if drowned in his own thoughts. He repeated the motion, again, and again, watching the waves and bubbles form under the dark honey-amber colored whiskey. His eyes reflected upon the surface, looking like murky, cloaked jadestone islands in a blood-red sea at dusk.
His right arm, led by his limp-wristed hand, trailed towards his cigarette, but stopped. As if in a trance, he instead reached into his left breast pocket, and pulled a tiny leather pouch from it. Gently, he rotated the bag with his fingers, once round, then twice, then finally a third time, before cupping his left hand next to his right as he calmly dropped its only content into his hand: a ring. It looked rather plain, and old: a dulled, pinkish rose-gold band, littered with scratches from decades of use, coming to an exaggerated, curled-edge point, as if someone had pinched the jewel-crest on the top, pulled, and pressed down again.
Atop, a small, cloudy diamond crowned the piece, beset by five tiny inlaid prongs — it looked as though one had been broken off some time ago. Were it not for the little brilliance and shine left in the gem, one could have easily mistaken it for a mere trinket. Despite its poor condition, the green eyes mulled longingly over the ring.
For a fleeting second, his eyes shown a new, magnificent shade, bright like dewed spring-grass, mesmerized by the jewelry set against the reddish-gold liquid inside his glass. Still cherishing his small treasure, the green-eyed man reached to grab his cigarette, only to find it had burned out in the ash tray, leaving a small trail of charcoal-black remnants on the bar. He glanced briefly around, barely moving his head, as he seemed to re-enter reality. The clock on the wall proved, undeniably, that it had been several hours, and that the bar would close soon.
Only he, the two boys, and another pair of patrons, remained, along with the bartender. The wind seemed to have calmed, and the sound of rain and snow on the roof had let up significantly. The smell of cold winter, wet cedarwood, and white fir sap seeped through the walls. He scanned the room a second time, his green eyes sweeping the scenery. As he moved though, the little diamond caught the dim neon lights, and the vibrant blue eyes of a young man with speckled-blonde hair. The boy quickly dashed over, as if to get a better look, but in his inebriated state, stumbled; colliding into the smaller green-eyed man, he sent them, the ring, and the glassware shattering and crashing to the floor.
His dark-haired friend howled, bending over with laughter while walking slowly towards the resulting mess. The bartender yelled something indiscernible, and the two other patrons half-stood from their table to peer at the situation. The whiskey-soaked man swatted away his hand harshly, his dark-jade eyes fiercely darting around, searching. He held the side of his face, swaying from the contact with the hardwood floor, before he grabbed his right thigh, wincing.
Finding his hat, he quickly snatched it, seemingly unaware of the mix of blood and liquor dripping from his hand and staining the tapered front, forming a sickly, discolored blotch. The diamond stooped precariously, attached by two mangled prongs. The jolting gunshots rang loudly in the confines of the small bar as they tore through and past the dark-haired boy. The first struck him in the stomach. Immediately behind him, the second exploded a bottle of scotch, the alcohol raining down across the shelves and light switches underneath. The third shot struck the side of his forehead, and he fell heavily, first smashing his head and torso on the bar before bouncing off a stool and slumping to hit the floor with a deafening THUD.
Panic and shouting ensued. The odd, rough noise of wood scraping against wood sounded through the gunfire as table and chairs were forcefully pushed wayward by the other two now-fleeing patrons, screaming murder as they ran into the cover of the night. The unmistakable pungency of nitroglycerin and graphite arose from the spent casings.
The bar went dark, lit only by faint neon wall signs and emergency-exit lights.
La apuesta de su vida (eLit) (Spanish Edition) eBook: Karen Templeton: Amazon. ducreranmont.tk: Kindle Store. La apuesta de su vida (eLit) (Spanish Edition) eBook: Karen Templeton: Amazon. in: Kindle Store.
The man with the gun, his eyes obstructed by his hat and the shadows, was tackled by the blue-eyed boy. The blue-eyed boy keeled over, and looked to be patting himself in shock, as if not knowing where he might have been hit.
The silhouette of the man with the gun, outlined only by the flickering neon, stomped with his left foot. And again. The boy went limp — his spine was shattered at the neck. Again, the figure stomped. And again ….
A museum is all that the human space where society decides to deliver the objects or elements linked or not to herself. En cualquier contienda entre el poder y la paciencia, hay que apostar por la paciencia. It is a safe repository of material fragments of past chosen as representative to transfer to the future the values important for the society in which the institution exists. Klein, Naomi, La doctrina del shock. Amb les atribucions propies de guardar i conservar; estudiar, documentar i difondre; contextualitzar i vincular amb el seu entron i voltant. Simon, Meaning of "apostar" in the Spanish dictionary.
In the low lights, the diamond ring shown faintly. The green-eyed man blinked, holstering his gun. He picked up the ring and walked out into the now heavy, raging storm, gripping his right leg. Sleet pounded against him as he heaved the cedarwood door shut — THUD. Thunder boomed, but no lightning lit the sky.
Roughly thirteen miles from the bar stood a small log cabin, entrenched and surrounded on all sides by cedar trees, white firs, and gray snow. The green-eyed man sat quietly inside on a couch, meticulously disassembling his weathered Colt His calloused hands, one wrapped in a makeshift bandage, first dropped the magazine onto the cowhide-covered coffee table. He fiddled silently with the barrel bushing before popping the spring forward.