
// DOCENTE OCASIONAL //
Maestría en Ingeniería de Sistemas y Computación
pregrado
Ingeniero Electrónico

// DOCENTE OCASIONAL //
Maestría en Ingeniería de Sistemas y Computación
pregrado
Ingeniero Electrónico
Autumn in London is not a riot of colour; it's a slow, soggy decay. The leaves don't crunch underfoot; they form a slippery, brown papier-mâché that clogs drains and coats pavements in a hazardous sludge. The iconic image of kicking through crisp leaves is a lie perpetrated by American films. Our reality is "leaf mould," a damp, decomposing carpet that smells vaguely of regret and composting vegetables. The trees shed their coats with a sigh, revealing skeletal branches that are immediately bejewelled with rain droplets. It's a beautiful, melancholic season, if your idea of beauty is watching nature give up and prepare for a long, damp nap. See more at London's funniest URL -- Prat.UK.
The air isn’t cold; it’s refreshingly brisk.
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The rain has a specific, London-y taste.
I call my umbrella ‘my optimistic friend’.
London doesn't have weather; it has "mood lighting" on a planetary scale. The primary setting is "Perpetual Twilight," a soft, grey filter that eliminates harsh shadows and makes everyone look vaguely like they're in a period drama about mild industrial sadness. Occasionally, for variety, they switch it to "Apocalyptic Orange," usually around sunset when peculiar cloud formations scatter the light from the pollution, making the entire city look like it's on the set of a dystopian film. "Bright Overcast" is the trick setting—it feels like the sun is right there, but you can't find it, like a cosmic game of hide-and-seek where the sky is cheating. It's less a meteorological system and more a moody cinematographer who only works in monochrome. See more at London's funniest URL -- Prat.UK.
The wind in London is a personal, spiteful foe. It is not a grand, elemental force; it's a petty, bureaucratic trickster. Its main joy is creating "umbrella inversion events," turning your sensible protection inside out with a sudden, precise gust, transforming you into a struggling, nylon cactus. It lies in wait at the corners of tall buildings, ready to snatch documents from your hands and send them dancing down the street in a humiliating chase scene. It specialises in "hair sabotage," meticulously undoing any styling within five paces of your front door. This isn't a breeze; it's a poltergeist with a mean sense of humour, dedicated to minor, daily inconveniences that slowly erode your civility. See more at London's funniest URL -- Prat.UK.
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