Can we just talk about the fact that Karen Olivo is honestly my life goals??? Like she’s been in West Side Story, In the Heights, Rent, and fuckin Hamilton. Who cares about Hillary and Trump?? #KARENOLIVO4PRESIDENT2K16
The night of February 5th, 2017, Argentina was shaken by a horrific massacre that ended with 6 people dead, including an unborn baby, three injured and a fugitive murderer.
Dubbed by the press as the Hurlingham Massacre, because of the Buenos Aires neighborhood where it happened, it started with a domestic fight between Diego Loscalzo (38) and his girlfriend Romina Maguna, both pictured above in happier times. According to neighbors’ testimonies, the fight soon became violent. Romina was a policewoman and Diego used her service weapon to shoot her four times, killing her.
The noises alerted Romina’s sister, Vanesa Maguna and her boyfriend Dario Daniel Diaz, who were at the house. When they went to Romina’s aid, Loscalzo shot Vanesa seven times, killing her too. Dario was also shot and he died later on his way to the hospital. A neighbor identified as Cinthya Lopez came outside to help and was also shot, but she survived.
While Loscalzo was running away, another of Romina’s siblings, her brother Jose Eduardo Maguna chased him with his car and managed to intercept him. But when he confronted him, he was shot three times and died. Loscalzo also shot the other people in the car: Jose’s wife, Monica, who was 9 months pregnant; Romina’s mother Juana Paiva and a 12 year old girl. The girl and Monica survived, although her baby couldn’t be saved and she’s currently in critical condition. Juana died.
Diego Loscalzo had been accused before of physical abuse by Romina, but apparently they had resumed their relationship. He’s currently on the run, with police on his trail.
of the deeds that he and his brothers have committed. Invokes words sharper
than the blades used to run their “enemies” through, hotter than the fire
Feanor used to burn the boats. All who are brave enough to stay and listen are
scorched in its wake.
cannot stand his music now a days. It
was bearable when the others were alive—he had distractions—but now it’s just
Maglor and his songs of death, and occasionally, his songs about Thangorodrim. Those
are the worst—in Maedhros’s opinion. They send him back to his cell, to his
torture, and he learns to stay away from his brother when he sings.
past, he’s cleared music halls with his eerie sounds, sent women and men alike
weeping and screaming as he begins his verses, as he conjures up a swirl of
emotions like agony and despaired. Now, towards the end of his sane life, he
sings at random, sings to the small forces they have left (There is forever a
heavy weight above the troops. They know what is to come, they know what they
will face. Already they fight hopelessly, with one foot in the grave).
as he buys food in the market, as he walks through the woods at night.
people to madness.
time they take in Elrond and Elros, Maedhros hopes things will change. And they do, for a while. Maglor puts his
effort into writing rhymes and children’s songs, and for a while, Maedhors is
mean that Maglor stops though—just means that he sings behind closed doors.
are older and able to walk without assistance, the twins stumble into his bedroom,
and when they hear the music, cover their ears and scream like they are being
murdered. It takes Maedhros ages to calm them both down, and about an hour to
break Maglor out of his trance.
vows to play outside. Maedhros asks him why he continues to play, knowing that
it hurts those around him.
says that it’s his way to cope and since it bothers so many, he’ll keep it to
isn’t foolish—and later, neither are Elrond and Elros. His playing is not a
coping mechanism, he has the twins for that, he has the façade of a family, of
a happy life.
is his punishment.
twins will push his harp into the river, or burn his music to a crisp (Maedhros
will take no part in the vandalism, in fear of what new musical number Maglor
will use to retaliate against them all). But he’ll fish for it until it turns
up. Put the instrument back together until his fingers are bleeding and sore
with shards of wood.
rewrite his music, engrave it into the table or the stone if he must. Anything to keep on playing.
end, his music hurts him more than it does anyone else. Drives him insane just
as it has his victims, until all he knows how to do is sing his mournful tunes,
until all he can sing is his Noldolantë.
And that’s how it is his punishment. In the end, it kills him.
Me gustó ser parte de tu vida, me gustó ser dueña de tus noches, compartir contigo tus manías, me gustó que me besaras en el… Me gustaron todos tus detalles, y esa forma tonta en que decías: “como tú no iba a quererme nadie, como yo nadie te entendería”.
Pero no me tiembla el pulso si te veo y me imagino ya durmiendo sola.
Porque no me duele este vacío que dejas en esta amanecer de largas horas. Del amante amor al amigo amor se me fue el amor, se me consumió. Y yo que declaré la guerra a quien nos separaba.
Y te pido aún que me perdones por fallarte cuando no debía, por no estar en fechas señaladas, por marcharme cuando me… frente a frente, he roto sin remedio y te veo más guapo que hace días. Mira yo no quiero equivocarme, tampoco seguir esta mentira…