Martyn Rhisiart Jones
Madrid, Friday 16th January 2026
Ah, los estadounidenses de origen galés. Fueron los revolucionarios silenciosos y los escurridizos Padres Fundadores. Estos son los chicos y chicas que básicamente construyeron la mitad del país. ¡Y luego desaparecieron en el papel pintado como si debieran dinero!
(more…)
Mario Benedetti, 1920 to 2009
Martyn Rhisiart Jones
First edition: The Jewish Chronicle – 19th May 2009
Revised edition: Friday 16th January 2026
Benedetti died at his home in Montevideo on Sunday, 17th May 2009, at the age of eighty-eight. With his passing, Latin America loses one of its most prolific and affectionately regarded literary voices of the postwar era. He was a figure whose work spanned more than eighty volumes across poetry, fiction, essays, drama, and journalism. His work captured the quotidian rhythms of urban life, the ache of exile, and the stubborn commitments of the left. He wrote with an unpretentious directness that endeared him to generations of readers.
(more…)Martyn Rhisiart Jones
Madrid, Friday 16th January 2026
Ah, Americans of Welsh origin. They were the quiet revolutionaries and the sneaky Founding Fathers. These are the guys and gals who basically built half the USA. Then, they vanished into the wallpaper like they owed money!
(more…)
Martyn Rhisiart Jones
Bandoxa, Wednesday 14 January 2026
Our service provider OpenAI could not process my prompt due to a moderation system. Please try to rephrase it changing potentially problematic words and try again. What a pile of dreck!
The Protocols of the Elders of Zion, oh boy, what a title! The minutes resemble the most boring bar mitzvah planning committee meeting in known history. Instead of arguing over chopped liver versus sushi and bara brith, they’re plotting to control the entire planet. And the punchline? It’s fake. A total forgery. A hoax so clumsy it makes a three-euro bill look like the genuine article. Yet this thing refuses to die. It’s like an unfortunate relative who keeps showing up at Thanksgiving with the same tired stories.
(more…)
Martyn Rhisiart Jones
Madrid, Wednesday 14th January 2026
The Universal Compass: Why Morality Transcends the Partisan Divide (With a Touch of Martyn Jones’s Slow-Burn Scepticism and a Proper Welsh Understated Grin)
Look, I’m not saying I’ve cracked the code to world peace or anything daft like that. However, morality, ethics, values, and principles don’t belong just to one side of the political spectrum. They’re not strictly red or blue. They’re like that jumper your mam keeps in the drawer ”just in case.” It’s full of holes and a bit faded. It smells faintly of mothballs. But it still does the job whoever’s wearing it. And if it doesn’t quite fit, well, there’s always room to stretch it a bit.
(more…)
Martyn Rhisiart Jones
Madrid, Saturday 10th January 2026
What do Richard Burton and Anthony Hopkins have to tell us about the magical Celtic number ten?
To capture the essence of these two titans, we must look at the number ten through two different lenses. One lens is the thunderous, poetic gravity of Richard Burton. The other is the quiet, rhythmic precision of Sir Anthony Hopkins.
(more…)
Oza-Cesuras, Europa, 17 de decembro de 2025
Os soldados nunca se decataron dela.
Sentouse onde sempre se sentaran as mulleres. Estaba xunto á fiestra e á estrada. Estaba preto das vetas de ferro da vía férrea. Tiña as mans ocupadas, o seu ollar suave. O amor estaba nos seus ollos. A música lenta das agullas repiqueteaba coma a choiva sobre a lousa de Bethesda. En Gales, chamaríanlle cynefin, o consolo do coñecido. En Galicia, as cousas sempre se fixeron así. Máxica, misteriosa e consciente.
(more…)Oza-Cesuras, Europa 17. Dezember 2025
Die Soldaten beachteten sie nicht.
Sie saß dort, wo Frauen seit jeher saßen. Am Fenster, an der Straße. Nahe den Eisenadern der Eisenbahnlinie. Ihre Hände waren beschäftigt, ihr Blick sanft. Liebe lag in ihren Augen. Das leise Klicken und Klappern der Nadeln klang wie Regen auf dem Schiefer von Bethesda. In Wales hätte man es Cynefin genannt, die Geborgenheit des Vertrauten. In Galicien, wie es seit jeher üblich ist. Magisch, geheimnisvoll und achtsam.
(more…)Oza-Cesuras, Europe 18 décembre 2025
Les soldats ne la remarquèrent même pas.
Elle était assise là où les femmes s’étaient toujours assises. Près de la fenêtre et au bord de la route. Non loin des rails de la voie ferrée. Ses mains étaient affairées, son regard doux. L’amour brillait dans ses yeux. Le doux cliquetis des aiguilles résonnait comme la pluie sur l’ardoise de Bethesda. Au Pays de Galles, on aurait appelé cela du « cynefin », le réconfort du connu. En Galice, c’était la tradition. Magique, mystérieux et empreint de sérénité.
(more…)ओज़ा-सेसुरास, यूरोप 17 दिसंबर 2025
सिपाहियों ने उस पर कभी ध्यान नहीं दिया।
वह वहीं बैठी थी जहाँ औरतें हमेशा बैठती थीं। वह खिड़की के पास और सड़क के किनारे थी। वह रेलवे की लोहे की नसों के पास थी। उसके हाथ बिज़ी थे, उसकी नज़रें नरम थीं। उसकी आँखों में प्यार था। सुइयों का धीमा म्यूज़िक बेथेस्डा स्लेट पर बारिश की तरह क्लिक और क्लैक कर रहा था। वेल्स में, वे इसे साइनेफिन कहते, यानी जानी-पहचानी चीज़ों का आराम। गैलिसिया में, चीज़ें हमेशा इसी तरह की जाती रही हैं। जादुई, रहस्यमयी और ध्यान से किया जाने वाला
(more…)