#Agripa
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Síguenos en Substack https://revistadehistoria.substack.com/ Lee cada día nuevos Artículos Históricos GRATIS: https://revistadehistoria.es/registro-gratuito/ Agripa, la mano derecha de Augusto
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5 curiosidades sobre el Panteón de Roma.
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Is Hildegard or Agripa a better starting point to red occult books?
Agrippa 100%.
We love Hildegard but her work only represents a sliver of the broader occult sciences.
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las entrañas del Panteón de Agripa
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Of all the dishes I’ve made for my family over the years, chicken and potato sofrito is probably the most popular, especially as the kids were growing up.
Sofrito is a Sephardi dish of meat (chicken, usually with the skin on, or beef chunks, seasoned with salt and pepper) and potatoes. It’s cooked for a long time on low heat with very little liquid. Traditionally, the potatoes are deep fried before they’re added to the meat. The occasional onion or root vegetable, such as carrots; squeeze of lemon juice; or pinch of cardamom and turmeric are added, but that’s about it. The slow cooking produces a concentrated sauce — the perfect example of a dish that’s larger than the sum of its simple ingredients.
And just to clarify: Sephardi sofrito should not be confused with the sofrito sauce of tomato, pepper and garlic that’s the base of many dishes in Latino, Spanish and Italian (where it is spelled soffritto) cuisines. Although, as we’ll see, all these versions are somehow related.
The word sofrito comes from the Catalan “sofregit” and Spanish “sofreír,” that mean to lightly fry something. According to Britannica.com, the origins of sofrito can be traced back to Catalonia, to a dish called sofregit. The dish emerged after new vegetables, such as carrots were introduced to the Iberian Peninsula by the Moors. The earliest recipe for sofregit appeared in the Catalan cookbook “Libre de Sent Soví,” circa 1324, and included onions, leeks, garlic and salt pork slowly cooked together.
It’s only after “discovering” the New World that tomatoes and peppers were added to the mix, which resulted in the sauce that’s so popular today. But by that time, the Jews had been expelled from the Iberian Peninsula. With the expulsion from Spain, Sephardi Jews emigrated to North Africa, parts of Europe and the Ottoman Empire, bringing the basic dish of lightly fried root vegetables and meat with them.
Some moved to modern day Israel in the 15th century, and even more during the 16th century after the Spanish Inquisition. They settled mainly in Jerusalem, Tiberias (where they called the dish sifrito), Safed (where it was sometimes known as sofrita) and Hebron. More Sephardi Jews arrived in the 19th century, mainly from Turkey and the Balkans.
“The Beauty Queen of Jerusalem,” a novel (and now a TV show on Netflix) by Sarit Yishai-Levi, follows four generations of the Sephardi Ermoza family in Jerusalem. Sephardi food descriptions are an essential part of the story, and among dishes such as hamin macaroni and biscochos, there is also mention of sofrito.
“My mother Luna passed away shortly before my eighteenth birthday. A year earlier, while the whole family was sitting around the table for lunch as usual and she was serving her famous sofrito with peas and white rice, she sat down on her chair and said, ‘Dio santo, I can’t feel my leg.’”
Matilda Koen-Sarano includes two sofrito recipes from Jerusalem in her Sephardi cookbook “Gizar kon Gozo” (Cooking with Ladino Flavors, written in Hebrew and Ladino). The first is a simple beef shoulder sofrito with nothing but potato, onion, oil, salt and pepper, which is the most popular version of the dish in Israel today. The second is made with chicken thighs, potatoes and many spices and taste agents, such as tomato paste and garlic.
In another Sephardi cookbook from Jerusalem, “The Cook from Agripas St.” (written in Hebrew), author Aviva Ben-Joseph includes three sofrito recipes. They’re all, in fact, different types of beef stews cooked with very little liquid on low heat; none of them contain potatoes or other vegetables.
Sofrito was also eaten by Sephardi Jews in Egypt. Cookbook author and food historian Claudia Roden includes two Egyptian sofrito recipes in “The Book of Jewish Food” from her own family: one with chicken and one with veal. She writes that the potatoes were originally deep fried before they were added to the pot with the meat, but says that her mother switched to tiny boiled new potatoes when the family moved to London. (The Jewish community as a whole left Egypt after the establishment of the state of Israel.)
In my house, sofrito means warm, satisfying homecoming. My version is as minimal as can be, and really easy to prepare. I use skinless, boneless chicken thighs, potatoes, oil, turmeric, salt and pepper, but you can use any cut of meat and add other root vegetables to the potatoes. Since both the chicken and the potatoes need the same cooking time, about one hour, I can fry the potatoes in the same dish as the chicken, adding even more flavor to the potatoes, and saving a dirty dish. I hope you’ll give it a go; maybe it will become your own family’s comfort dish, too.
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agripa agripa yahoo
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Biografia — Novo Testamento — Apóstolo Tiago (filho de Zebedeu)
novembro 20, 2023
Graça, Paz e Alegria!
Mensagem do Portal Evangélico Compartilhando Na Web.
O apóstolo Tiago, filho de Zebedeu, era um pescador de profissão que seguia o pai nos negócios antes de seguir o Senhor Jesus de acordo com o que lemos em Mateus 4.18–22 por exemplo. Ele era irmão de outro apóstolo, João. E muito provavelmente sua mãe se chamava Salomé com base em textos como Mateus 20.20; Marcos 15.40; 16.1.
Tiago sempre aparece em companhia de Pedro e João, formando o grupo de discípulos mais próximos de Jesus. Esses três devem ter visto a maioria dos milagres que Jesus realizou, pelo menos estavam juntos e eram chamados para acompanhar em muitas situações.
Normalmente o texto que fala dos filhos de Zebedeu apresenta Tiago antes de João. Isso pode ser um indício de que ele fosse mais velho que o irmão.
Muito se fala de Pedro e seu temperamento, mas há estudos que apontam que “Boanerges”, ou “filhos do trovão”, seria uma indicação de que os dois poderiam ser também intempestivos. Ainda pode ser alusão ao temperamento do pai, já que eles seriam “filhos do trovão”. Mas os irmãos não eram tão tranquilos, pois são eles que fazem a sugestão para a destruição de uma vila samaritana em Lucas 9.54. E eles solicitaram, ou a mãe intercedeu, que eles tivessem destaque no reino. Havia algo no temperamento sim!
O apóstolo Tiago foi o primeiro dos apóstolos a sofrer martírio e o relato está em Atos dos Apóstolos 12.2. Foi morto à espada por ordem de Herodes Agripa I, em aproximadamente 45 d.C. .
Forte abraço!
Em Cristo,
Ricardo, pastor
OBS - Caso o player não toque a mensagem até a execução da música no final, você pode clicar nos "três pontinhos" (...) no próprio player e ouvir direto no Spotify. Aproveite e siga nosso Podcast por lá ou em outra plataforma que agrega podcasts! Pesquise "Ministério Compartilhando"!
#compartilhandonaweb#bíblia#ministeriocompartilhando#leiaabiblia#devocional#mensagem#meditaçāo#biografiabíblica#biografia#spotify#apple podcasts#google podcast#podcast#tunein#segunda feira#segundafeira#Spotify
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Titulo completo: Decapitación de Santiago el Mayor: Panel de la Predela
Artista: Fra Filippo Lippi y taller
Fechas de artistas: nacido alrededor de 1406; murió 1469
Grupo: El Retablo de Pistoia Santa Trinità
Fecha de realización: 1455-60
Medio y soporte: Temple al huevo, temple grassa y óleo sobre madera
Dimensiones: 27,5 × 38 cm
crédito de adquisición: Presentado por el Sr. y la Sra. Felix M. Warburg a través del Art Fund, 1937
Santiago se arrodilla en oración; detrás de él un vigoroso verdugo levanta su espada. Santiago el Grande fue el primero de los apóstoles de Cristo en morir por su fe, siendo ejecutado por el rey Herodes Agripa en Jerusalén en el año 44 d.C.
Esta es una de las cinco escenas de la predela, el nivel inferior, del Retablo de Pistoia Santa Trinità, pintado para una cofradía de sacerdotes en Pistoia a fines del siglo XV. El retablo fue iniciado por Pesellino y completado por Fra Filippo Lippi y su taller después de la muerte de Pesellino.
El dibujo subyacente (el bosquejo preliminar de una composición) de estas escenas es muy detallado, y parece probable que Lippi hizo los diseños, pero dejó la pintura de algunos de los paneles a sus asistentes.
Información e imagen de la web de la National Gallery de Londres.
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Informe
Medici: Masters of Florence
La serie Medici: Masters of Florence, dirigida por Sergio Mimica-Gezzan en 2016, cuenta la historia de una de las familias más influyentes de Florencia en el siglo XV, los banqueros Medici. La misma, inicia con la muerte de la cabeza de la familia Giovanni di Medici (quien realmente fue envenenado) y durante sus primeros 3 capítulos nos cuenta como la familia consigue su ascenso y nos enseña un panorama bastante interesante sobre cómo funcionaba Florencia en esa época, hablando del contexto sociopolítico del momento, en donde se aprecia las diferencias entre los Pazzi y los Medici, nos muestran la guerra entre las ciudades de Italia y la crisis económica que trajo esta, así como también tocan el tema de la peste negra, marcando puntos importantes de la historia.
Hablando desde en un punto de vista más artístico, se aprecia el papel fundamental que tuvo Cossimo de Medici (hijo y sucesor de Giovanni tras su muerte), quien a pesar de dejar en segundo plano su deseo de ser artista por el deber de continuar con el legado de la familia, encuentra la manera de fusionar política, economía y arquitectura, al tomar acciones inteligentes, que lo llevan a financiar el proyecto de la cúpula de Santa María del Fiore, pero ¿cómo llegamos a este punto?
Las serie nos muestra que desde joven Cossimo tuvo afinidad por las artes, y una especial intriga hacia Santa Maria del Fiore ya que no comprendía como realizaban una edificación que luego no sabían culminar, tiempo después realiza un viaje a Roma en donde conoce a Donatello (quien le muestra más sobre el mundo artístico) y queda maravillado con la cúpula del Panteón de Agripa, edificación que aparecería más adelante cuando Cossimo decide financiar la obra y Brunelleschi le cuenta que tras horas de análisis del panteón (en Roma) concluye que la única manera de realizar esta hazaña en Santa María del Fiore es actuando diferente a lo que se realizaba en la época, proponiendo así una doble cúpula sin andamiaje que además de ser realizada por tramos emplearía ladrillos en espiga para dar mayor soporte, dicha propuesta atrapa a Cossimo quien decide dar inicio al proyecto de la cúpula a cargo de Filippo Bunelleschi, y luchar por continuar el proyecto pese a las complicaciones en el camino como lo sería la peste negra (hecho que podemos ver a lo largo del capítulo 3).
Para finalizar, es importante destacar que esta serie narra los hechos de una manera sumamente interesante, invitando a continuar viendo capitulo por capitulo como transcurre la historia, y a su vez permitiendo comprender de forma clara en contexto sociopolítico y cultural de Florencia en esa época de la mano de la familia Medici.
Erika Camposano | Historia II | Prof. Arq. Rebeca Tineo
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Síguenos en Substack https://revistadehistoria.substack.com/ Lee cada día nuevos Artículos Históricos GRATIS: https://revistadehistoria.es/registro-gratuito/ Agripa, la mano derecha de Augusto
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La Buena Semilla
Hola, quisiera compartir con usted el texto del 4 mayo 2023 del calendario “La Buena Semilla”.
Escuchad mi voz, y seré a vosotros por Dios. (Jeremías 7:23)
El que me oyere, habitará confiadamente y vivirá tranquilo, sin temor del mal. (Proverbios 1:33)
La oportunidad de su vida
Tres grandes personajes dejaron «pasar la oportunidad»:
– Pilato: entregado por los jefes de su pueblo, Jesús compareció ante el gobernador romano. Durante el interrogatorio, Pilato hizo una pregunta a Jesús: “¿Qué es la verdad?” (Juan 18:38). Tenía la verdad en persona frente a él (Juan 14:6). ¡Si alguien podía dar a esta pregunta esencial una respuesta fiable, ese era Jesús! Pero Pilato salió sin esperar la respuesta. Luego entregó a Jesús a sus enemigos…
– Félix quiso escuchar al apóstol Pablo, quien estaba prisionero. Pero cuando este empezó a hablar “de la justicia, del dominio propio y del juicio venidero”, Félix tuvo miedo, y en vez de preguntar a Pablo cómo podía ser salvo, respondió: “Ahora vete; pero cuando tenga oportunidad te llamaré” (Hechos 24:25).
– El rey Agripa, de paso por Cesarea, oyó hablar del prisionero Pablo y también quiso escucharlo. Pablo le contó cómo él, el terrible enemigo de los cristianos, pasó a ser un feliz “prisionero de Jesucristo”. Su discurso tocó el corazón del rey, quien le dijo: “Por poco me persuades a ser cristiano” (Hechos 26:28).
No leemos que estos tres hombres de alto rango hayan tenido nuevamente la oportunidad de escuchar el Evangelio. En un momento decisivo de su vida dieron marcha atrás ante las consecuencias inmediatas de la elección que debían tomar, elección que determinaría su eternidad…
“Si oyereis hoy su voz, no endurezcáis vuestros corazones” (Hebreos 3:15).
Lectura: 1 Reyes 3 – Marcos 7:1-23 – Salmo 51:13-19 – Proverbios 14:31-32
Otros textos del calendario en https://labuenasemilla.net
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Agripa, Agripina, Agripinila.
Julia, Julila.
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Of all the dishes I’ve made for my family over the years, chicken and potato sofrito is probably the most popular, especially as the kids were growing up.
Sofrito is a Sephardi dish of meat (chicken, usually with the skin on, or beef chunks, seasoned with salt and pepper) and potatoes. It’s cooked for a long time on low heat with very little liquid. Traditionally, the potatoes are deep fried before they’re added to the meat. The occasional onion or root vegetable, such as carrots; squeeze of lemon juice; or pinch of cardamom and turmeric are added, but that’s about it. The slow cooking produces a concentrated sauce — the perfect example of a dish that’s larger than the sum of its simple ingredients.
And just to clarify: Sephardi sofrito should not be confused with the sofrito sauce of tomato, pepper and garlic that’s the base of many dishes in Latino, Spanish and Italian (where it is spelled soffritto) cuisines. Although, as we’ll see, all these versions are somehow related.
The word sofrito comes from the Catalan “sofregit” and Spanish “sofreír,” that mean to lightly fry something. According to Britannica.com, the origins of sofrito can be traced back to Catalonia, to a dish called sofregit. The dish emerged after new vegetables, such as carrots were introduced to the Iberian Peninsula by the Moors. The earliest recipe for sofregit appeared in the Catalan cookbook “Libre de Sent Soví,” circa 1324, and included onions, leeks, garlic and salt pork slowly cooked together.
It’s only after “discovering” the New World that tomatoes and peppers were added to the mix, which resulted in the sauce that’s so popular today. But by that time, the Jews had been expelled from the Iberian Peninsula. With the expulsion from Spain, Sephardi Jews emigrated to North Africa, parts of Europe and the Ottoman Empire, bringing the basic dish of lightly fried root vegetables and meat with them.
Some moved to modern day Israel in the 15th century, and even more during the 16th century after the Spanish Inquisition. They settled mainly in Jerusalem, Tiberias (where they called the dish sifrito), Safed (where it was sometimes known as sofrita) and Hebron. More Sephardi Jews arrived in the 19th century, mainly from Turkey and the Balkans.
“The Beauty Queen of Jerusalem,” a novel (and now a TV show on Netflix) by Sarit Yishai-Levi, follows four generations of the Sephardi Ermoza family in Jerusalem. Sephardi food descriptions are an essential part of the story, and among dishes such as hamin macaroni and biscochos, there is also mention of sofrito.
“My mother Luna passed away shortly before my eighteenth birthday. A year earlier, while the whole family was sitting around the table for lunch as usual and she was serving her famous sofrito with peas and white rice, she sat down on her chair and said, ‘Dio santo, I can’t feel my leg.’”
Matilda Koen-Sarano includes two sofrito recipes from Jerusalem in her Sephardi cookbook “Gizar kon Gozo” (Cooking with Ladino Flavors, written in Hebrew and Ladino). The first is a simple beef shoulder sofrito with nothing but potato, onion, oil, salt and pepper, which is the most popular version of the dish in Israel today. The second is made with chicken thighs, potatoes and many spices and taste agents, such as tomato paste and garlic.
In another Sephardi cookbook from Jerusalem, “The Cook from Agripas St.” (written in Hebrew), author Aviva Ben-Joseph includes three sofrito recipes. They’re all, in fact, different types of beef stews cooked with very little liquid on low heat; none of them contain potatoes or other vegetables.
Sofrito was also eaten by Sephardi Jews in Egypt. Cookbook author and food historian Claudia Roden includes two Egyptian sofrito recipes in “The Book of Jewish Food” from her own family: one with chicken and one with veal. She writes that the potatoes were originally deep fried before they were added to the pot with the meat, but says that her mother switched to tiny boiled new potatoes when the family moved to London. (The Jewish community as a whole left Egypt after the establishment of the state of Israel.)
In my house, sofrito means warm, satisfying homecoming. My version is as minimal as can be, and really easy to prepare. I use skinless, boneless chicken thighs, potatoes, oil, turmeric, salt and pepper, but you can use any cut of meat and add other root vegetables to the potatoes. Since both the chicken and the potatoes need the same cooking time, about one hour, I can fry the potatoes in the same dish as the chicken, adding even more flavor to the potatoes, and saving a dirty dish. I hope you’ll give it a go; maybe it will become your own family’s comfort dish, too.
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hi 🙈🙈🙈 can we get another snippet of the new fic🙈🙈
I'll give you the whole chapter bestie
Read below or read it here on Ao3
Two weeks later, Lily had resigned herself to the fact her patronus hadn’t worked.
She spent the first few nights peering hopefully out her window, as if the doe would come bouncing back exclaiming good news. But nothing, except an unremarkable date with Derrick from legal, had changed.
Well that and her only friends travel plans.
“Why are flights so expensive?” Chrissy lamented, sliding the folder of her travel information across Lily’s kitchen table.
Her friend was flying back to New Mexico for her brother's wedding, and despite all her begging and pleading, Lily (or rather Lis) was not going with her.
She’d thought about it for a brief second, the promise of sunny weather and enchiladas was almost enough to break her resolve. But even though she’d given up hope of Moody coming back, something was telling her she had to stay.
“At least you get a vacation,” Lily pointed out, sliding the folder back to her friend. “Three weeks off and your mom's home cooking, that’s got to be worth every mark.”
“That’s a fair point,” Chrissy agreed, “What about you? You have tons of vacation days saved up, when are you going back to see Mr. Tall, dark, and mysterious?”
“Not anytime soon,” Lily responded somewhat glumly.
“I wish you’d give Derrick a fair shot.”
“I did give him a fair shot!” She argued, shooting her friend a look.
“You gave him the ‘I’m still hung up on someone shot’.” Her friend pointed out, rolling her eyes
Lily rolled her eyes right back, grabbing the empty plates from the table and moving into the kitchen.
“I did not.”
“Did too.” Her friend called back
“Look. What I had back home… It was different.” Lily explained, dropping their dishes into the soapy water in the sink. “We had been together since we were 17, and then things got complicated.”
(If you could call a genocidal maniac dark wizard complicated.)
Lily let out a frustrated breath, remembering their last conversation. James’s ridiculous reason for ending things, and the ensuing arguments with her friends. She’d often wondered if that had been the honest to goodness reason for calling it quits, that he wanted to protect her.
The secret self deprecating part of her brain often taunted her with the idea that he’d simply fallen out of love, and was no longer attracted to her.
“He was everything a first love was supposed to be, and part of me will never get over him. I still haven't fallen out of love with him… The problem is I don’t know if he’s over me, and the stupid part of my brain is telling me not to give up hope.”
She heard a soft thump from her dining room.
“I can hear you hitting your head against the table, there’s no need to be dramatic!” She called over her shoulder, “One day you’ll meet him and you’ll understand. It’s like you and that bloke from your hometown. What’s his name again? Martin?”
Silence responded to her question.
“Or was it Mathew, it was an M name right?”
Again she was met with silence.
“Chrissy?” Lily called out, a trickle of fear running down the back of her neck as her dining room remained silent.
Wishing her wand wasn’t stashed under the floorboards of her bedroom, she grabbed the next best form of protection, a paring knife that was sat on her cutting board.
She crept silently towards the kitchen door, blade held out in front of her with a shaking hand.
Lily barely had time to register Chrissy’s slumped over form before the knife went sailing from her grip.
She dove to the side, grabbing the next best thing, a wooden spoon, and chucked it with all her might into the dining room.
“Ow! Merlin's beard Evans!” A familiar voice came from her dining room
“Moody?”
“Yes for Agripa’s sake!” The auror came around the corner, missing two more fingers than she last remembered and sporting a bright red mark on his forehead from where the wooden spoon had hit him.
“Wait!” Lily said, diving across the kitchen and unsticking the paring knife from the wall, once again holding it out in front of her like a wand. “What was the name of the healer who helped me after the explosion?”
“Healer Jonesy.” Moody answered instantly, pulling open her icebox drawer and slapping a frozen bag of peas to his forehead “you’ve got a good arm on you Evans. You should have played chaser.���
Lily lowered the knife, peaking back through the kitchen door at Chrissy, who was slumped over at her table.
“Did you have to knock my friend out?”
“She’s not knocked out. Just sleeping.” Moody grunted
Chrissy let out a slight snore as if to prove his point.
“And besides, I wasn’t planning on you having company. I thought I told you to keep a low profile.”
“I did!” Lily argued, setting her kitchen knife in the sink. “Chrissy is my only friend, and besides, I've been here for a year! I needed some semblance of a life.”
Moody rolled his eye, the other one now under an eye patch, “well if you’re not too busy here. We’ve made enough headway in breaking up the supply chain for you to come home.”
It felt like a ball of ice dropped into her stomach.
Excitement, fear, dread, happiness. Every emotion imaginable was flying through her. What if everyone had forgotten her? How many of her friends were dead?
“Unless you don't want to come back?” Moody questioned shooting her a knowing look.
“I do. I do want to come back I’m just𑁋”
“Scared.” Moody finished for her, tossing the bag of frozen peas back into her icebox, “well you can’t play muggle forever Evans.”
Lily looked back at Chrissy, who was out cold on her kitchen table.
“I’ve already modified her memory.” Moody said, as if reading her mind, “You got an emergency transfer back home. You’ll keep in touch through letters.”
She nodded, a deep feeling of sadness washing over her again. Chrissy had become a part of her life, even if that life had been a lie.
“I’ll apperate her back to her flat𑁋 I’ve got the address.” He said before she could speak, “I’ve been keeping tabs on you Evans.”
“And you never thought to say this would take longer than expected? I’ve been here for a year, Alastor.” She snapped
“I said we wouldn’t speak again until I knew you could come back. You shouldn’t have sent that patronus.”
“So it reached you?” Lily asked curiously
“No, fizzled out halfway over Belgium. But it did trigger my observation wards for you.”
“You had observation wards on me?” She asked somewhat indignantly
“The order doesn't operate here. And the Magische Regierung von West-Berlin
is barely limping along. I didn’t want them involved but I needed to keep an eye on you somehow.” He explained, moving from her kitchen to her dining room. “I’m taking Barbie back to her place. You have twenty minutes to pack up, hope you haven't forgotten how to use your wand.”
He moved towards the dining room table, taking Chrissy’s wrist.
“Wait!” Lily stopped him before he could apparate her out, kneeling down to wrap an arm around her sleeping friend's shoulder. “Thank you.” She whispered, placing a quick kiss on Chrissy's forehead, she stepped back. Nodding to Moody to apperate her away.
It didn’t take her long to pack up her life. The small leather suitcase’s indetectable expansion charm had held strong, and after prying open the loose floorboard in her bedroom a wave of her wand had all her clothes, trinkets, and few personal items neatly packing themselves away.
Lily wasn’t going to miss West Berlin, or her job. But she would miss normality, moving about her day unknown and with less fear.
She allowed herself two minutes of tears. Because whenever a part of your life ends, whether it is good or bad, a part of you will always grieve it.
But by the time Moody apperated back into her apartment, she was together and collected.
“Are you ready to get back into it?”
“I think so.” She murmured with one last look around her empty apartment.
“You can’t think so, Evans.” The Auror pressed, “You’ve not been gone for a year. You’ve been dead for a year. You have to prepare yourself for what that will mean.”
Lily nodded, a deep sense of anxiety building in her stomach.
“I’m ready. No hesitations.”
“Good.” He said, pulling a smooth river rock (the portkey back to england) from his pocket
“Are we going back to order headquarters?” She asked
“Not yet. You still need to keep a low profile for a while. We’ll be dropping you off somewhere safe”
She nodded, before reaching forward and placing her hand on the stone.
“On the count of three” Moody began, “One, Two Three𑁋”
It was like a hook behind her navel, dragging her forward through a crushing whirl of her Berlin apartment and the cold, wet, english countryside.
When her feet finally hit solid ground, she was staring at a dilapidated old cottage. The top floor caving in, and its fence posts near rotting.
“I see the order’s budget has expanded.” She quipped, trying to calm the nervous bile that was rising in the back of her throat.
“We do our best.” Moody grinned, moving towards the fence post, “Hold onto my jacket as you go through. You don’t want to actually go up in smoke.
Grabbing hold of his jacket sleeve, they walked through the rotting gate together.
All at once the cottage changed, its top floor was no longer caved in, and the many holes and missing components had made themselves apparent.
“We’re using this as a holding space.” Moody explained as they picked their way through the overgrown cobbled path. “Azkabans guards can’t be trusted, and we like to question those we capture before sending them elsewhere.”
He tapped a zig zag pattern with his wand on the door, which shimmered a dark bronze before swinging open.
Aside from the fireplace, and few well worn armchairs, the first floor of the cottage was relatively empty.
A carved wooden door frame led to a set of narrow wooden stairs which must have led to the upstairs.
“Sirius!” Moody called up the stairs, “I have someone for you.”
Lily’s heart started beating fiercely the moment Moody called her friends names, and the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs made her want to throw up.
“If you’ve dragged another half bloodied piece of death eater filth in for me to guard I’ll𑁋”
Sirius swung around the door frame, but froze the second he saw who was in the room.
“Not a death eater.” Lily said softly, taking a tentative step forward
“What is this?” Sirius stepped back from her, he’d gone completely grey “what kind of sick joke is this Moody?”
“This is the end of a year-long operation.” The older man said, “and Evans needs a reintroduction to things.”
Sirius was staring at her, blue eyes wide, and hands shaking as he backed towards a ragged arm chair by the fireplace.
“Lily died.”
“She didn’t.” Moody grunted, “we just needed everyone to think she did.”
“Lily died.” Sirius stated again, more forcefully this time, a look of pure rage starting to crest in his handsome face. “Whoever this is, whatever deatheater trick𑁋 Lily would never leave us𑁋”
“In sixth year,” Lily interrupted nervously, trying to catch her friend's eye. “You and I had a conversation by the lake. Just the two of us.”
Sirius turned away from her, hands flying to his hair, fingers knotting in the fine strands by his temple.
She couldn’t see his face anymore, but his shoulders were shaking.
“We talked about… We talked about your family, your brother, and how you were scared for him.”
He still refused to look at her, but she kept going.
“About my feelings for James.”
“Enough.”
“About your feelings for Re𑁋”
“I said enough!” Sirius shouted, turning back to her. Tear tracks streaked his face, but his eyes were still bright with anger.
Moody stepped forward, putting a barrier between the both of them. “Lily’s going to be stepping back into her old role, but for now, we need to keep reintroductions to a minimum.”
“Reintroductions?” Sirius scoffed, shooting the both of them a glare. “Is that what you call this? Last year I was told one of my dearest friends, and the love of my best friend's life was blown up. I planned her funeral, placed flowers on an empty grave, and watched my brother whither away without her. And now she’s standing in my sitting room.” He swiped his wrist across his mouth angrily, “you have the gall to call this a reintroduction?”
“Sirius, I'm sorry. I didn’t want to leave, it destroyed me being away from you all, but I’m back and I want𑁋”
“No. You don’t get to destroy us all over again.” Sirius snapped, hands shaking, his gaze refusing to meet hers. “You don’t𑁋 you were DEAD Lily.”
He collapsed into the chair behind him again, “we had a funeral for you.”
“I’m sorry.” She whispered again, nails digging into the skin of her wrist “I didn’t want to leave… I wanted somehow to tell you all I was still alive but𑁋”
“I was insistent.” Moody grunted, standing up from his spot by the fire and moving towards the door, “I need to get going. So either you pull yourself together enough for Evans to stay, or I'm shipping her back to Berlin and wiping your memory too.”
Sirius shot the older man a glare, “fine. Pulled together.” He snapped, sitting up straighter in his chair and giving the Auror a mock salute.
“Good. Now remember, keep re-introductions𑁋”
“To a minimum. I got it.”
Moody grunted in acknowledgment before stepping out into the rainy evening, slamming the door behind him.
Sirius got up from the armchair, opening and closing his hands in a flexed fist.
Lily could barely breathe, watching as her former friend paced the room, flinching everytime his eyes glanced in her direction, before pulling a box of cigarettes from his coat pocket and finally looking at her fully.
“Moony kept having nightmares.” Sirius said, breaking the tense silence, “after you died he kept having this recurring dream of you, drenched in blood trying to reach out to him.”
He lit a cigarette with shaking hands.
“He kept saying that you were trying to pass him a letter, trying to tell him something.” He took a long draft of his cigarette. “I told him it was just his grief. That he was blaming himself for your death, imagining that there was something left to say. But that did happen didn’t it? When Moody said he would wipe my memory as well?”
Lily nodded, tears were streaming silently down her face now. “When I got back from the mission, I was wounded, really bad. I managed to pass off the intel I had collected, but after that… It all went dark.”
Sirius took a long drag from his cigarette, silent as he listened to her story.
“And when I came too Moody said it would be better if I stayed dead, that the death eaters thought both their intel and I went up in smoke.” She sniffed, “He said I would only be gone for a few months but𑁋”
“You were gone for a year.” Sirius finished. There was still a hint of anger in his voice but his eyes were watery.
“I was in West Berlin, working for the British embassy. My name was Elisabeth, my friend, Chrissy, she called me Lis. She kept trying to set me up with this American bloke Derrick.”
“So you were happy there?”
“I existed there.” She corrected, meeting his piercing glare. “I spent every waking moment wanting to be back with you all.”
“Then why didn’t you leave?”
“Lives were at stake.” Lily shook her head, “Moody made it very clear that if I came back, people would die. And I didn’t know how, I can’t exactly apparate from Berlin, and the magical community there is tiny. Less than 300 people, I just had to wait.”
Sirius let out a frustrated breath, fiddling with the sleeves of his shirt.
“James can’t produce a patronus anymore.” He said after a beat of tense silence, “he was… Lily, I can't even explain to you what it was like for him.”
She let out a shaky breath, swiping furiously at her eyes.
“Evans… this𑁋 you coming back. I don’t know…” He trailed off, stubbing the last of his cigarette out. “Lily, your death destroyed him. He’s still a shell of who he was, and I don’t know how he’s going to react.”
“You think I should stay dead.”
“I think we need to be careful about how we do this.” Sirius corrected, “he’s only just started to… to come back I guess.”
“Move on you mean.”
“He could never move on from you Lily.” He scoffed, “when he broke up with you he was a mess, thought he was doing it to protect you. And then when you died… merlin I thought I was going to lose him too.”
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s true.” He stood up taking a tentative step towards her, “I think the only reason he kept going is because he’s determined to stomp out every last death eater. That in some way it will make him feel less guilty.”
“Less guilty?”
“James thought you went on that mission because of him.” Sirius sighed, “he knew that you were angry, wanted to prove yourself.”
“He was never the reason for that.” Lily scoffed, folding her arms over her chest, “I was sick of being on the sidelines. Wanted a win for myself as well as for our side.”
She looked down, suddenly unable to look at him as she held back more tears. “Only I ended up being sidelined far more than I expected.”
There was another moment of silence. Another quiet, empty moment. Something she was accustomed to with Sirius.
“For fucks sake come here.” He finally said, wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug.
She let herself melt into him. Months of anticipation and moments of tense, accusatory dialog had her on edge.
But now it felt like she’d never left.
“I didn’t want to leave.” Lily whispered softly into the crook of his shoulder, “Do you hate me?”
“I could never hate you Evans, especially when we just got you back… I’m just worried.” He explained, stepping back from her
She sniffed, wiping her nose with the back of her sleeve “Worried?”
“About how the hell we’re going to tell James.”
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O Panteão é o templo mais bem conservado de Roma e, mesmo dois mil anos após sua construção, detém ainda o recorde da maior cúpula em concreto do Mundo.
Construído por Marcos Agripa, o templo foi completamente reestruturado após um incêndio, pelo Imperador Adriano que adicionou, a gigantesca cúpula redonda , construída a imagem da esfera celeste: daqui provavelmente o nome Pantheon, morada " de todos os deuses "
A cúpula do do Panteão é famosa no mundo inteiro ,seja pela sua grandeza imponente, seja pelo inusitado óculo: uma abertura no teto através do qual a luz do sol ilumina de cima todo o templos.
O Panteão foi o primeiro templo a ser transformado em uma igreja católica: por esse motivo consigui passar ileso pelas turbulências da Idade Média e chegou até nós praticamente intacto, em todo seu antigo esplendor.
A fachada retangular esconde uma enorme cúpula que possue um diâmetro maior que a cúpula da Basílica de São Pedro . É formado por 16 colunas de granito de 14 metros de altura que possue a inscrição "
M.AGRIPPA.LFCOS.TERTIVM.FECIT, que significa" Construída por Marcos Agripa, filho de Lúcio, quando consul pela terceira vez.
O Panteão de Agripa é o edifício Romano mais conservado do mundo, é uma síntese perfeita de harmonia e inteligência construtiva.
Michelangelo referiu-se ao Panteão como um edifício de desenho angélico e não humano.
Na Panteão estão também enterrados alguns personagens importantes da história italiana.
A famosa rainha Margueritha e o grande pintor renascentista Rafael são os destaques.
Embora o Panteão seja um monumentos histórico, ainda é uma igreja, onde celebra-se missas e principalmente casamentos.
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