Test Night Before Period

cream cakes with strawberries

About the award given by the writers attending the Hay Festival Cartagena (Who by work commitments, and to coincide with the reminder that year after year makes me the Great Conspirator its inexorable work, I could not attend) with his colleague Roberto Fontanarrosa , I have to learn a task little more of his work, which only references I have a character of my childhood: the Oily Boogie.

So far the search of his writings online and in bookstores in the city has proved unsuccessful, but instead I returned to find several pearls that look straight thug has dropped to the satisfaction of his readers, behold one of them:







Comic
via the web's Fontanarrosa

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Verlaine There is a line that I will not remember.
There is a street that is closed next to my steps,
a mirror to me last seen, there is a door
have closed until the end of the world.
Among the books in my library (I'm seeing)
there is one that will never open. This summer will perform
fifty years
Death wears me out, relentless.

Jorge Luis Borges, the seer.

memory

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Limits Where are the dreams? or strategy of the great conspirator

This week has been ripping slowly releasing bits of its cash and invulnerable poison ...

By chance I found a few days ago a photo house in which lived my childhood in the Cali-eighties, full of chat and culture ... a remote whiff of nostalgia, those few years with my father, the steep gravel road, and the atmosphere that marked my personality to always hit that morning came and stood next to my desk since then.

Today, a coworker reminded me a little longing for my times Student: Creating a software development company ... The striking (in my opinion) brand name and logo seen me for a moment from oblivion, from that corner which borders the illusions of reality with overwhelming blow.

This continual struggle, totally useless, because we already know who will win the grand conspirator- uses all its arguments. And boy are strong ... again I creep across the canvas, searching for the second wind of the strings and envying the immutability of these walls that enclose me everyday.

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Comfort of a pseudoFénix

Time is a great conspirator and excellent opponent ... It is he who wears daily relationships, who sets conditions to work, who patiently eats bodies, giving the appearance of rickety furniture, who ultimately provided us from our goals and expectations (such as writing regularly on this blog ...)

(.. . ever got time directly with me and who I love most ; was personal, and as such fought, seized him by the lapels and I spit in the face of my determination. I think I did scare him a little, but still there , lurking, waiting to tear down what so hard sometimes costs us ...) And we

daily, naively, we are trying to achieve, to reduce the effect of its relentless work, without realizing that, now I write this and you read it, nothing matters ...