заметки на полях учебника по немецкому языку.
в единственном числе в немецком языке изменениям подвергаются только существительные мужского рода. в русском - только женского.
то есть на вопрос ‘кого винить единственного?’ в германии просклоняют мужчину, а в россии - женщину.
никаких выводов. просто интересно 🤓
🇲🇽 @jjesuscorona01 tras al finalizar el partido ante Argentina: “Sabemos que viene una nueva camada, un nuevo proceso mundialista, y eso es lo importante, que se puedan mostrar. Dentro de todo lo malo debemos de sacar las cosas positivas".
- رودريغو لاسمار ( طبيب السيليساو ) :" نيمار شعر بعدم الراحة وغادر يشكو من إنزعاج ، وقد بدأ العلاج بالفعل ، سنحتاج لمزيد من الوقت للتقييم الأفضل ، لكن بدايةً ، ليست إصابة خطيرة " .
- rodrigo asmar (silesao doctor): "neymar felt uncomfortable and left complaining of discomfort, and the treatment has already begun, we will need more time to evaluate better, but first, not a serious injury.
¡DERROTA DEL TRI EN MENDOZA 🇲🇽😢! México pierde 0-2 ante una Argentina con figuras como Dybala e Icardi que fueron los anotadores. El Tri faltó de concentración a la hora de definir y perdió pese a una mejoría en el complemento. De esta manera culmina el pésimo interinato del Tuca.
Castle in the background. On my way back from a great, quirky little pop-up market up on a hill that I panted as I peddled up and eventually walked the last 30 or 40 m. A once a month event where the donation is one euro and you’re offered Spanish sparkling wine or other forms of libation upon arrival. Lots of food available to taste… Hot meals available to purchase for a very small fee… I bought a plate of beef goulash and also purchased a great Italian red and some fantastic bread to take home.
3 156:55 PM Nov 7, 2018
Spectacular Day after a spell of rain and clouds.
2 156:37 PM Nov 5, 2018
A great Poire William is a thing of beauty. No fruit lends itself more optimally towards (un-aged) distillation than the pear. It is well and truly the conversion of pear essence into liquid form.
What I have found astonishing at times is how “fat” a fine Poire can taste. Is it possible to taste a liquid and to envision it as a solid in your mind?
There I stood, in this teeny wine tasting bar off Getreidegässe, seeking, epiphanies, or as a poet friend of mine once put it, “that which is eternal to all our small truths”. And as I cast my line into the small glass of big ideas, the elderly gentleman next to me began to quietly sing a tune.
I glanced to my right and his companion smiled politely as if to say, “Please excuse him.” I nodded enthusiastically as if to say, “Oh no, please. Carry on!” The actual bar counter has space for about seven adults, shoulder to shoulder. There was a bit of a crowd at the door. The three employees were busy. The atmosphere, cozy. As if all of us were in on a really good secret. My favourite kind of place.
The singing stopped. We fell into conversation. In fact, I took his singing for an invitation to converse.
His name: Ernst. “A rather old-fashioned name” he added. “I think mine might be older but this isn’t a contest.” I said.
We all laughed.
Ernst then asked the $64,000 question: “Where are you from?” “Which part?” I reply.
“Well right now, I’m from here.” I smiled a Cheshire cat grin.
He smiled, unmoved.
“So where is home?”
“I think I’m still looking for home.” Ernst: “Well there’s no better place to look for it than in a wine bar.” We all laughed uproariously.
The laughter subsided. The patient gumshoe returned, “Ok. Where were you born?”
“I was born in Puerto Rico…” Another pause.
Whereupon Ernst began to sing— in flawless Spanish— “En Mi Viejo San Juan”, the unofficial national anthem of the island. He knew all the words. He even knew the composer, Rafael Hernandez.
The poire had momentarily stuck in my throat.
12 209:11 AM Nov 3, 2018
Oh… Just your basic every day sunset with a castle in the background. Yawn.
4 108:22 PM Nov 1, 2018
On The Little Bridge of Dreams.
On a pedestrian bridge where hundreds of locks aim for divine benediction. Or simply validation. A kind of Cartesian elaboration on the timeless "Je pense donc je suis…” ( I think, therefore, I am).
Instead, it’s, "We’re here, therefore we are.” (Nous sommes ici, donc nous sommes.) Maybe that could include, "We are one. Just look at that lock.” Maybe it’s an enactment of a Dickinsonian “My River Runs To Thee” sensibility. “My River runs to thee
Blue Sea – Wilt welcome me?
I’ll fetch thee Brooks
From spotted nooks …” And so on. (But not much more. Dickinson, after all.) Many of these locks have carefully engraved names… Elizabeth and Andreas, Naty & Diego, Daniela & Fabian, Thamer & Afnah… Who are they? What is their story? And does their story continue?
And then of course, there’s Mr. Speak Softly and Carry A Big Padlock… no words, his dreams kept to himself.
Or maybe etched on the side of his axe, the one he uses to carve himself some toothpicks every night. Still. He’s there as well.
Presumably he had company. Or in his case the lock might be a prayer, “please send someone.”
In which case, I’d say to him, ‘You might want to tidy up just a bit, mate.’ I dunno. Based on the evidence at hand, I’m guessing his house is a bit on the rugged side and he needs a shave and a shower.
Still, it is a bridge of dreams…and everyone is invited.
1 62:49 PM Nov 1, 2018
There seem to be a lot of confused people out there. That this notion is a viable business concern seems a bit absurd. Conclusion: Dadaism lives on!
2 147:49 PM Oct 30, 2018
Salzburg is on the banks of the river Salzach (named after salt, which was shipped on the river, the same way that wine used to be shipped up to Paris, but on a different river :)...at the northern boundary of the Alps, folks. The mountains to Salzburg’s south contrast with the rolling plains to the north. The closest alpine peak, the 1,972‑metre-high Untersberg, is less than 16 kilometres (10 miles) from the city centre. Quite a spectacular view and constant magnificent presence. The river eventually flows into the Danube. But not before waltzing with a few more towns. Ahem...