Friday, November 11, 2022

Wednesday, August 12, 2020

all around me/ a mi alrededor


 “Incapaz de percibir tu forma / Te encuentro a todo mi alrededor / Tu presencia llena mis ojos con Tu amor / vuelve humilde mi corazón / porque estás en todas partes”


Wednesday, January 09, 2019

Dora , 18 Jul 1923 - 30 Ene 2007

Dora had no idea who Annie Oakley was.
Maybe that´s why our relationship began with so many misunderstandings.

I was 6 years old and she was in her thirties when we first met, and Annie Oakley was my hero. Actually Barbara Stanwyck was Annie Oakley for me. Anyway, it was at a time when heroes were bigger than life and there weren´t other heroes than the movie heroes or ones parents.
I also loved Alice in Wonderland and Dora had never heard of her. Too bad. Dora didn´t understand my urge for surrealistic visions or the tricks I played to her. She probably though I was just stubborn and spoiled. Well, that... I was too.

We were introduced by my mother in our living room very early one morning. I was still dressed in my long flannel nightshirt and she had a beehive hairstyle with lots of spray which I imagined was for impressing me. She looked lonely and vulnerable and yet strong. I remember I realized of that but it didn´t stop me from taking all the advantages I could from her out placed countryside culture.
She had come from a small town to the big city of Buenos Aires after a very cruel breakup with her husband-to-be. He was from Swiss origins and was in love with her but her mother in law-to-be forbid his boy from marrying a dark woman, and so he didn´t.
I wish I had understand that from the beginning.

"She´s going to live with us from now on", Mom said.
And she did.

I can´t imagine my life without her protection.


escrito en 2007 para ella

Thursday, August 08, 2013

Thursday, July 25, 2013

Monday, July 15, 2013

El cuento

El cuento es muy sencillo
usted nace
contempla atribulado
el rojo azul del cielo
el pájaro que emigra
el torpe escarabajo
que su zapato aplastará
valiente
usted sufre
reclama por comida
y por costumbre
por obligación
llora limpio de culpas
extenuado
hasta que el sueño lo descalifica
usted ama
se transfigura y ama
por una eternidad tan provisoria
que hasta el orgullo se le vuelve tierno
y el corazón profético
se convierte en escombros
usted aprende
y usa lo aprendido
para volverse lentamente sabio
para saber que al fin el mundo es esto
en su mejor momento una nostalgia
en su peor momento un desamparo
y siempre siempre
un lío
entonces
usted muere.

Thursday, October 27, 2011

Tuesday, October 18, 2011