Roser Peramiquel Cols

Coaner, el nom d'una vall amb una església romànica a Sant Mateu de Bages, i que porten 31 dones a Catalunya La Coaner més petita té només 7 mesos, i la més gran té 46 anys; totes elles es coneixen i es reuneixen cada 8 de setembre 3cat.cat/3catinfo/em-di… 3cat.cat/3catinfo/em-di…

A la Barcelona del Mobile World Congress.

"Em dic Coaner. És un nom molt especial perquè n'hi ha molt poques al món." De fet, són tan poques que es coneixen totes i cada any fan una trobada al Bages, al poble d'on ve el nom 3cat.cat/3catinfo/em-di…

Oh, com m'agradaria saber recitar Espriu i Pere Quart amb aquest contrast tan viu! Gràcies infinites, Celdoni Fonoll, pel teu mestratge indefallent! (Vídeo: Marià Sust.)

IN PRAISE OF FRANCESCA ALBANESE There is a question that visits me in the small hours, when sleep will not come and the mind turns over old stones. The question is this: “What would I have done in the 1930s, on the morning after Kristallnacht?" Not what I say I would have done. Not what I hope I would have done. But what would I actually have done—when the trains began to run, when the neighbours grew quiet, when the cost of decency became the loss of everything? Most of us, I think, would have done little. Not from malice. From fear. From the soft, creeping conviction that someone else will speak, that the situation is complex, that we must be 'reasonable'. Lest we forget, the ordinary is the extraordinary's alibi. And how we have clung to that alibi! How we still cling to it! And then, every once in a terrible while, someone appears who does not cling. Someone who steps forward when others step back. Someone who speaks the name of the thing when everyone else is busy naming something else. Francesca Albanese is that someone. She stands before the world—alone, unarmed, armed only with law and language and a rare courage—and she says what the centrists will not say, what the foreign ministries will not say, what the editorial boards will not say. She says: "This is a genocide. And we are watching it happen." Do not tell me that is hyperbole. Do not tell me the term is contested. She has not used it lightly. She has used it as a physician arrives scientifically at a diagnosis—not to wound, but to warn. Not to inflame, but to name. And for that, they have come for her. Oh, how they have come for her. Smears. Investigations. Vicious editorials. Frozen bank accounts. Dispossession of the only apartment she had ever owned. The machinery of the respectable turned to crush her. Because the respectable cannot abide what she represents: a mirror held up to their complicity. Let us, once again, travel back to the 1930s. Back to the few who stood up when the trains began to run laden with Jewish people. There was Aristides de Sousa Mendes, a Portuguese consul in Bordeaux. He defied his own government. He signed thousands of visas, by hand, for hours, until his fingers bled. He saved more lives than Schindler. And he died penniless, disgraced, erased. There was a German officer in Warsaw named Wilm Hosenfeld. He hid a Jewish pianist in the rubble. He did not save thousands. He saved one. But that one—Władysław Szpilman—carried the memory. And memory is "the only haven from which we cannot be expelled." There was Raoul Wallenberg. There were the villagers of Le Chambon. There were the anonymous, the quiet, the furious few who said: “Not on my watch.” Francesca Albanese is their heir. Not because she carries a gun. Not because she hides refugees in her basement. But because she does something equally dangerous in a world that has perfected the art of not seeing. She sees. And she speaks. She does not speak as a diplomat. Thank Goodness she doesn't! Diplomats have given us the language of "there are arguments on both sides" and "restraint" and "proportionality." Diplomatic language is the perfumed grave of moral clarity. No, she speaks as a jurist. As a human being. As a woman who has looked into the abyss and refused to call it a "complex geopolitical landscape". Edna O'Brien once described a character who "had the recklessness of those who have already lost everything worth losing." Francesca Albanese has not lost everything. She has her dignity, her office, her voice, her family. But she has calculated the cost of speaking truth to power. And she has decided that that cost is infinitely less than the cost of silence. What is that cost? Let us name it. She has been called antisemitic—she, who stands on the ground of international law forged in the ashes of Auschwitz and the fires of Nuremberg. She has been called a conspiracy theorist—she, who cites every source, every footnote, every UN resolution. She has been called naive—she, who understands better than most the machinery of realpolitik. These accusations are not arguments. They are the spittle of the threatened. Because Francesca Albanese threatens something very precious to the powerful: the right to commit atrocity without being named. Friends, the 1930s did not arrive with jackboots and pogroms on day one. They arrived in small increments. With "reasonable" restrictions. With "proportional" measures. With the silence of the respectable. We tell ourselves that we would have been different. That we would have been Sousa Mendes. That we would have been Wallenberg. But most of us, I fear, would have been the neighbours who later said, "I didn't know." Francesca Albanese knows. And she refuses to pretend otherwise. So let us praise her. Not with statues or awards she does not seek. But with something harder: with our own refusal to look away. With our own voices, raised in places that are safe for us but dangerous for her. With our own bodies, if it comes to that. A brave woman, who was injured while demonstrating outside a US nuclear military base in 1982, the infamous Greenham Common, had told me that "the heart is a hunter for what it cannot have." But I say the heart is a hunter for what it will not lose. And what we will not lose is the memory of those who stood up when standing up cost everything. Francesca Albanese is standing up now. In our time. In our name. Under our indifferent sky. Let us stand with her. Not tomorrow. Not when it is safe. Now. [Extract from a speech in Athens on Sunday 3rd May 2026]

Adéu a Carlos Garaikoetxea, navarrès amb consciència nacional basca, adoptà l’euskera com a llengua habitual sense ser euskaldun. Lehendakari, amic del poble català i un polític elegant, culte i educat, dels que ja no se’n troben. Bidaia on beren herriari leialak diren gerlariei!

📝 "La presència policíaca als instituts, doncs, no és cap solució: simplement és l’admissió encoberta que no es vol resoldre el problema de debò." Editorial de @vpartal vilaweb.cat/noticies/aixo-… vilaweb.cat/noticies/aixo-…

Aquest projecte, amb 58 capítols de TV i 170 reels de XXSS, ha estat un repte professional gegant. Capítols amb nivells didàctics progressius, protagonistes nascuts fora de Catalunya, un toc d'humor i un objectiu: normalitzar que parlar català, a Catalunya, fa la vida més fàcil.

Hi ha 2 milions de persones a Catalunya que volen aprendre català, però només mig milió accedeixen als cursos. Per això em fa feliç haver estrenat "Català fàcil" a 3Cat: com un "Digui, digui", però del s.XXI, transmèdia i amb Roger Coma. Ser-ne el director ha estat un honor. 👇

🗣️ "La UE va néixer com un projecte per a la convivència dels pobles i ara sembla que l’única possibilitat que té de sobreviure sigui el rearmament." 🔶 Donatella Di Cesare acaba de publicar ‘Tecnofeixisme’ (Arcàdia) vilaweb.cat/noticies/donat… vilaweb.cat/noticies/donat…

📝 El llegat únic de Josep Manuel Anglada, revolucionari de l’alpinisme. 🔶 L'opinió de Jordi Rodri vilaweb.cat/noticies/josep… vilaweb.cat/noticies/josep…

❤️‍🔥Picassent, històric❤️‍🔥 A València va llegir el manifest Xavi Sarrià i poc després la Flama va arribar a Picassent, bona terra i bona gent. Aixi la va rebre el concert de @lagossasorda_oficial

Des de 1939 a 1976 no es va poder publicar cap diari en català. El 23 d'abril de 1976, gràcies a la tenacitat i perseverança de molts, va sortir el 1r número de l'Avui. "Per sobreviure als nostres il·lusos enterradors". 10 pessetes (6 cèntims d'euro), preu de venda del 1r. número

La injecció de moral i d'autoestima, tot i el buit informatiu, que suposa el @Correllengua_ no té preu. Omplir els carrers al seu pas ens demostra que el rearmament i la reconstrucció per a guanyar no passa per les institucions, ni tampoc per partits. I menys per discursos d'odi

El Sant Jordi de Montserrat Gudiol, filla de l'historiador de l'art que va salvar les pintures de Sixena

Gran Correllengua! Moltíssima gent, molta gent jove i un ambient reivindicatiu com feia temps no es veia! #seguim ✊🏻

🥺El MILLOR ENTRENADOR DEL MÓN ens anima a córrer molt lluny🥺 @PepTeam 🎵Avui la Flama arriba a Barcelona amb @Auxili_Band i @elscatarres , La Fúmiga i molts artistes més que tocaran Amb el Cor 🎶També arriba a Lleida amb un gran concert de Sexenni Fins ara doncs!

És curiós que es faci la Reunió de Líders Progressistes a Barcelona i es parli d'autodeterminació, llibertat, sobirania i dignitat dels pobles, tenint en compte que precisament això és el que Espanya es nega a aplicar a Catalunya. La presidenta de Mèxic, @Claudiashein, té molt clar que aquests són els principis a seguir, per això, ha demanat tantes vegades que l'Estat colonial espanyol parli de la veritat històrica de la colonització. Tot i això, sempre sembla que aquests principis es volen aplicar a tot el món, però casualment s'obliden de Catalunya.

El @Correllengua_ recorrerà els Països Catalans del 19 d'abril al 5 de maig en defensa de la llengua. Fem que la flama arribi més lluny! 🔥 Som Països Catalans! 📣 👉🏼 correllenguaagermanat.cat/reserva

Un fil roig de compromís indestructible elpuntavui.cat/politica/artic… via @elpuntavui