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Good luck and goodbye



His voice is not heard
silent river and wait
wood and salt
lips are sweet you will not kiss
sweeter than water, blood, sea

B . Granger

Here I am, once again ... Does the last? Today
window closes. Now I know that when one is more open, more becomes known to others.
Today I return to the perfume of paper that miss you so ... thank all those who once stood.

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Future? She

The child looked at the water and held his nose. Again mirar a su abuelo, que ahora hablaba de peces, de pescadores, y de hundir la cabeza bajo el agua en vacaciones hasta ya no aguantar la risa.
Nadar... al niño le encantaban las historias en que su abuelo le contaba la sensación de atravesar el agua con el cuerpo. Prefería eso a los castillos, los unicornios, y los príncipes. Había una vez... “¡Un río!”, se apuraba a contestar el niño.
El abuelo recordaba el olor del río en la piel, y mientras se lo contaba a su nieto le hacía cosquillas en la nariz. El niño cerraba los ojos e intentaba sentirlo también, pero lo único que recordaba al pensar en el río era un cementerio líquido.
“¿Por qué pasó This grandfather? "he asked as his eyes sunk in putrid water," Why can not we have the river? ".
The old man replied.
"Why did not you do anything to not take him?".
The old man did not answer. Had died, perhaps without hearing any questions.

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You never back anything. Back to invent a place that did not exist. 0,001 words

Article 15 Drunkeness

Long ago, it was beautiful.
had black hair, straight and neat, and at times laughing so hard that you had to watch it.
At that time she spoke in English, and I loaded up a few years. I love to see them communicate with their colleagues in that strange language, each word was closed to me, and she had the key of all.
spent time before seeing her again.
had black hair, straight and neat, and his laughter at times you had to watch it.
now talking about theater and literature, and the words sounded strange in her mouth.
I made a couple of questions, laughed ... we recognized.
remembered that long ago had met someone who looked like him, before I quit, I knew she was part of something that did not exist.
Like many others, his name was brewing in the folds of my memory until it no longer belonged to no face. Like many others, his face was deformed to stop being one, to become a slick black hair.
Recently, I saw her ... had black hair, straight and neat, and laughed in a way that made you look at the ground. It took
acknowledge it came to greet me, and I felt like I was invading the scent of inevitability.
was then told he had never seen a woman so ugly in my life.

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After Exile

was looking for information about mp3 players when suddenly, on a Mac site I found this;

A woman Memphis, Tennessee was arrested and charged with first-degree murder after killing her boyfriend with an MP3 music player, iPod. Arleen Mathers, 23, was arrested after she called the local police and admitted to have killed the life of her boyfriend. When police arrived at the residence of Mathers, found the body of Brad Pulaski, 27 years old. Had died from trauma after being repeatedly beaten with a metal object. The murder weapon: an Apple iPod MP3 player. Although not confirmed the cause, the evidence suggests that the murder was the result of a domestic dispute after Pulanski deleted iPod songs to his girlfriend. According to police investigating the case, Arleen was hysterical when they arrived at the scene of the crime and told them he had killed her boyfriend because she was accused of illegally downloading music from the network, and erased two thousand songs in MP3. Arleen claimed that he had taken three months to build your music collection. The autopsy revealed that Pulaski was beaten repeatedly in the face and chest with a metal object and died from internal bleeding, said Dr. Felix Klamut, forensic police. According to the website of Apple, the iPod is made of solid metal part, and has been recognized for its resistance to abuse, beatings and even liquid spills on it. "It took a while to die," said the coroner. "He must have beaten 40 to 80 times with the iPod. His death was not instantaneous, that's for sure. " Mathers was established on Friday night under special surveillance. The municipal judge set his bond at $ 600,000 and will appear at a preliminary hearing on March 9, 2004.

(no words ...)

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know No matter which should not be there. Nor did it matter that the place was dark, full of old posters that covered the windows.
not know anyone, and that I was glad a little. The waiter greeted him with a mechanical sound to see him approach the counter.
- Give me a bottle of Exile - playing instinctively sought the pocket of his trousers (yes, the money I had was enough.)
The waiter looked at him closely.
- Lord, we are not allowed to sell it in bottles. I can only give you a glass, is only one glass per person. Might have trouble with the inspectors if they serve more than that ...
The waiter had clearly explained, and would have problems if the inspectors were with the bottle ... I did not mean it could not be more than one vessel, take all I wanted. For something was in that place ...
- Well, At the restaurant a glass then.
The liquid was falling gently to fill the walls of his glass prison. It was clear and transparent, a faint blue, like the sky sometimes, when there are no clouds and things to remember.
The man took him in her hands and felt the heat was not, then lifted the glass firmly, and let him caress the blue liquid inside.
Exile was not sweet, and pleasant to take, but as it flooded the scars disappear, and memories that assailed him caused him laugh.
As the poster I had seen before leaving the bus, "He is young once, but can be immature for forever, "said big black letters on the head of a boy who reached maturity asking for a home loan at the American Bank.
- Mozo ...- called.
No need to say more for the cup was full again.

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music and left reformism



He was strong and weak as a Marine.
She was fragile and invincible,
As a Vietcong guerrilla.

(stolen words Mr. Rivas)


steps today echoes mock the way

The road milling
echoes spits feet licking trample it

The road twists and returns
to bite the tail with fangs
while their cries are covered
steps back today.

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"Life in the Mirror" Item

(Excerpt from an interview with Dr. Ian Henriksson,
Master in Astrophysics at the University of Vienna). "(...)

Dr. Henriksson I received in his office. Everything looks old, but spotless. Even the appearance of the doctor reflects, a grizzled man of thick hair, his mouth twisted into a sneer, almost elegant. By way of greeting
squeezes my hand tightly, "back to us, Adolf," he mutters to touch me.
I suppose the old doctor never understand why I left physics, or why I left University ... let alone that it abandoned its class.
When you look you see only certainties, an endless chain of them to be screwing around like snakes, waiting to appear and remind one that is human, he has made mistakes, and what eats a poison uncertainty . (...)

As we talked, Dr. Henriksson has shown me a small picture frame with a picture of Sigmund Freud. It has been fun for a while telling stories about him, his experience as a professor at the University. In some ways, it feels closer to Freud ...
Next to the library that holds the portrait is a large poster of Klimt, is it out with a smile it is not necessary to point out that there is some irony in the situation.
I responded with the same face as usual, "he never should have left here," whispers neglecting my smile.

(...) I have no fear to say that I admire. I did when I was his student, though my life has distanced himself from the way you showed me. I do now as a journalist, having heard so much and so many ... Before retiring
something I want to ask, a man like him, he carries on his back the memory of the Holocaust, the death of his fellow cast in the eyes ... someone like him, strong, proud, almost inhuman: Is there something that changed your life, something without which could not move forward? Dr. Henriksson
remains pensive for a moment. You can see the ideas running through the inside of his forehead.
Finally, looks up and says, "Without a doubt, Adolf ... chocolate bars. "

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For the second time in a very short time, I see my name on a wreath of flowers ... Again
day stop for a few hours to see him slip through the icy seats in a mortuary, to be invisible for a while, later to appear ...
The phrases seem to come armed, but they are all coming from the people, as if its role was to tour the different hydrants in need, so you can be ... Outside
my grandfather smoked. There is a nice gurí I talk about the Harry Potter (why you get the idea that you should talk about trivialities at the time? What does it matter to Harry Potter when he gets home tomorrow and not his grandmother? ), while, around us, all share the same idea. Some talk about theater, others on politics, and other, perhaps older, tell stories that involve it, and do they laugh, and then callan.Afuera, interspersed with the smoke of my grandfather, the city slips through speakers and steps, rushed words and dirty paper, and the day will give way to another night like the other (for those are not here).

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to serve him another teacher ... Cover holes

"But I think it is time to return to time, as I said, forever lost. Who does not, he also had the urge to shout "stop the fleeting happy moment?
and hopelessly lost because the reconquest of the time that sinks in only loss experienced by the reiteration of facts and circumstances can not be more than a second experience.
It is, in short, another time. Which is already sinking into the past.
The only tricky timid hope of salvation lies in the motto on the coat that I was from San Martin, "Live your life in such a way / that is alive in death." And As for my lost books I often wonder, Neruda: Where are / between what people / showing what words? ".

Juan Carlos Onetti

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John is he had lost a star.
"John, you have so many!, Had told his father to him watch the sky," What you can import one? ".
There were many stars, some huge, gleaming little, and without looking for other small blinded to the other. He had red, blue and white, and none could look like the rest (or wanted to). However
Juan did not see anything other than the hole, a black spot that marked the place where her star.
Every night, John took the burlap sack he had made his mother and left to hang stars in the sky ... clear that now was missing, of course now all feel his loss.
John could not stop thinking about it, how it must have fallen? Was it his fault?
What if there was a hole in the bag?
From above, the sky looked at him with his empty eye.
Tomorrow, when I could not see, and would take the bag to find the star.
If the finding could fill the gap, if the finding could put a stop to anything that hides behind the stars ...

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"I'm a duck," said the pig, while his image was reflected in the pond, "a duck."
hooves He looked opaque, body covered by a thick crust of mud, and turned to yell in the image, "a duck, like all others."
Inside the tank were diving ducks preening, and laughter that they tore the water could be heard from the shore ... from the shore, where the pig tried to convince the water that reflected back at him was that of a duck. Soon
they leave the pond, was approaching the time when the old woman left them their ration of grain on the farm.
Pork slowly sat up, watched the ducks and tried to laugh like them, but his mouth came a harsh sound like a growl.
then turned to the farm and trotted away.
When he arrived, the old woman had already left the food for the ducks ... around, the pigs were collected and ate faster than they could chew.
One lifted his head, and the spotty nose shouted, "What are you doing standing there? Come and eat with us." Pigs ate
three times per day. The old woman consented too, and so they believed the right to take whatever they wanted when they wanted ... Ducks, however, had only one daily ration.
Pork reminded them in the pond, minutes ago, so he walked to his companions, and buried his head between the grains.
When there was nothing to eat, pork itching to walk toward the pond.
This time it took longer to go to the farm, he was too heavy stomach.
When he reached the shore, fell on the mud and was left untouched by the ducks and water out. Inside
, laughed at the thought that would be most that would be their next meal.
Curious ... to think about it, his laughter seemed clean.
He looked her reflection in the pond, he was a duck, no doubt about that.

Monique Alexander 2010

Fable Of the gravediggers of dreams (nightmares growing instructions)



(Yesterday, in a minor crisis compared to a notebook)

raining outside.
drops hitting the leaves of the tree that is next to the window, trembling nervously as the legs of an insect. Occasionally
storm light fingers down to earth, and both cry out to be ...
In my head, things are very different. Ideas come and go without stopping, and I have the feeling that when try to play the role both will break into pieces. Whenever
least understand politics, left the government ... thinking is a burden, but a necessary burden.
Every day I buried voices "in haras major objectives, looking at a broader ideal, what ideal? Does the "human capital"?
Today I dreamed I went to a set of flags. Everywhere flags and banners, deployed to the wind. After looking a long time, I decided that I would not carry any, and then woke up.
flag is tempting ... one can stick to it and use it sometimes with band, so much affection covers politics! Yesterday
boarded a bus, and while he paid the guard saw it on his head a sign saying "Tabaré President."
And that to me translates into slums, the Committee discussions, graffiti, speeches, puteada occasional sacrifice of a lot of people who played it all (and more) so that one day the government left off.
But it also means veto for abortion, a statue of the pope in a public space, Breach of the water plebiscite, U.S. trade agreements, approve the pulp mill ... Every time I understand
least whenever it hurts more is happening.

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can always drop a little more ...

Onetti A sample of close to where I work ... I passed today Hence once again, to review with eyes the windows to keep their scribbles (as if the eyes were a boy flannel, which is stretched by the glass clouding the picture).
was a video showing him old, in a entrvista, spoke about his hermetic world, about their difficulties in communicating, about his childhood (so happy that there was nothing to say), on "The Well" ...
and always smoking, always smoke chasing him like a shadow ... I think about it and see the huge cigar and those glasses, covering his face as if to hide the slowness with which he closed his eyelids, and hiding from everything that was not part of it. I think
Onetti and invade me a deep sense of sincerity, a type that was, a cigar, a couple of lenses and Santa Maria ...

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My picture and I

In a paper read, years ago, that hell was made up of the eye thoroughly engaged in watching us. The phrase, then, was not Borges and Sabato or Sartre or mine.

[...] As for me, years ago I learned the art of shaving to touch, to avoid the view of the mirror, to get to work without the burden of another depression.
is that my picture - you show me - moves, has long been separated from me. While I remain
teenager calm, interested in what matters, kind and humble and the amazing indifference sure that there are no answers, her, my face has aged, it has become bitter and perhaps it is running or make up stories that are not mine but it. 0,001 words

Transmit At A Distance

Let's talk about the snow

When he awoke that morning the street was flooded with snow, wearing a pale skin cracks and colors.
not remember ever seeing snow. As I looked out the window, somehow knew he was smiling.
Under that new dress the day was like a holiday or a Monday morning. It breathed a quiet stranger, as if the city had moved to another part, or no longer exists ... breathed the same air that showed the hand of the girl of cinema, when he stroked the hair on the seat opposite.
smiled.
The snow had covered the fake laughter, the voices that scream but never hurt, forced silence, individualism ... Outside
everything was white. Slowly
people broke away from their homes and left to feel the snow. Laughter, laughter really came from the corners, and soon covered not know what to do.
But soon things were different ... Over time the snow still covering the streets, and some began to hate. They met, made banners and posters and placed them in front of their houses. But others loved it from the beginning, and in every neighborhood centers formed to protect.
While the vast majority of people remained indifferent.
Then began the debates, attacks, violent struggles to gain followers ... All
worse every day, and was so ...
awoke.
He joined a few seconds before getting out of bed. When he approached the window, observed the same street as always fades ... and knew that most would not see, was covered in snow.

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woke the sun was climbing like a bird dehaciendo
withered leaves and colors
Breaking the gray country of which
hidden in the skeleton of the buildings
and sings every night
to love the stars

skinny cat walked and took my step

I looked but I could see his white paws as caring touch the ground as if he could spot it

realized that between her old short hair and breathed poetry



Today I woke up and rubbed on to buildings to tame
stuck his fingers through the cracks of the tiles to erase the scars
gently kissed
as fallen leaves if the wind take care ...


And then I saw you and the day was the grip that keeps within his rags
and bird feathers left between
see that for more to be beautiful
kept dead.

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I'll walk to find the culprit
put the sea snails yawns
stirring water to transform them into songs

stroking the wet sand foam
to dress ...


Today I'll go walking to find ... 0,001 words

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Ruins And the Oscar goes to ... (First entrga)

Warning: The following text will be almost incomprehensible to anyone who does not suffer the broadcasts of the Academy Awards that year after year carried on Channel 4.
September 1
A poorly decorated with director's chairs and plastic figurines of gold, comes an old man wearing the same black suit that will be used next year.
- How are you, Arthur? - Says the suit next to him in a chair.
The other replied, smiling from his white jacket, specially purchased for the occasion.
- Well, enjoy this incredible evening ... how could it be otherwise, do not you think Alvaro?
-course ...
In a short while to start delivery. The cameraman who will take care of them for a few hours on trembling, holding a paper in his hand.
- Arthur, Álvaro ... I was thinking what were the previous transmissions, and I made a list of expressions that can be used, say, besides "amazing" or "wonderful" ... could read them and use them before when discussing the transfer, shall we? Arthur
yawns, he passes the list to his partner, Alvaro reads aloud: "EXTRAORDINARY, AMAZING, WOW, AMAZING ...".
Removes eyes from the paper. I like the word "extraordinary" sounds important.
The cameraman is fired and placed behind the camera. With a hand motion indicating that they started recording.
- Goodnight still friends, "says Arthur Another chair from Oscar night shared with Monte Carlo Television. How are you Alvaro?
- Great Arthur, enjoying a preview of what will be the awards of the Academy. Both continue exchanging compliments
free to the Academy until the image finally appears at the Kodak Theatre, to which they can not help launch a ...
- Incredible ... totally wonderful.
This time the presenter will be Chris Rock. Ah! If you do not talk so fast ... Arthur
making efforts to translate it, but just fails to understand the jokes. He laughs at the wrong time while trying to hide their hawks Álvaro shortcomings in simultaneous translation.
At last the round.
- This is not working ...- Arthur says Alvaro stirring movie information from the internet "We must do something ... Arthur
seems not to hear. It entertains practice poses to the camera.
- Please, Arthur ... By the way, in ten years we worked together, there was always something I wanted to ask: is this really your name? Arthur
pose looks from co-star Travolta and tells the leg while crossing pass;
- Si ... but you can call Pocholo. When we are not in the air, of course ...
batch is completed. Again suffer the English, damn yankees, why not speak English!
This Read Álvaro time sheets from the internet, and speak out spaces that have little to do with what you are saying ... but hey, comes round again, no time to recover.
- Arthur, I was thinking ... could talk about Drexler. Dress is nominated, we could talk about it.
His companion nods. Talk about Jorge Drexler. After all, Uruguay, and recently the channel did an interview where he went drinking mate.
Ah, Drexler ... he was going to save the night.

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had blue eyes, calm and clean.
When he spoke he smiled but did not move his mouth, and sometimes talks with him forcing others to bow lips involuntarily.
sat there smoothing his shirt while buttoned, looked away years of imprisonment, exile, such as escaping from the fabric wrinkles Mintra passed his hand over them.
talked about what had happened to the distant voice of one who has left behind too, and it was impossible to hear without his memories went into my mind to stay. "I know Belgium
said picking up his jacket from his chair seven years I lived there and I do not know ... I only remember the window of my house, they saw the river from the windows ... I preferred prison to exile.
It gets the sack and just look at me tell me you get used to prison he joined her, while always a stranger outside.
"I understand those who relapse, the jets returned to the Criminal ... you know what to expect inside.
When I entered, the lawyer told me that mine was for a year. I felt I was dying.
But after time passed ... five years ago when I was there, the prosecutor asked for six more years ... and I took it easy.
I can only imagine what I said.
I watch him as he talks arranged clothes, feeling the growing admiration against which fought for his ideas, his thoughts are arranged in the air like in a closet.
Floating between us are the bars, and the grimace a window that showed a river that never visited.

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With my grandfather share many things, and one of them is the habit of putting music to what we do, my grandfather whistles, I prefer to sing. Whether
because it rains, because we have to walk alone, because the day he deserves (or because we mistreatment), the two respond that way, perhaps by instinct.
So today, as she finished lunch in the kitchen, I heard rattling away the gravel of the courtyard, whistling down the street that soon would step toward the "outsiders" who hide too much for him, a visit outside the hospital where the that was his daughter, my mother.
do not know if anyone would like hospitals ... have a veil for my loss, I can not stop me freezing cold feeling when I visit the body.
Yesterday, while waiting for the results of my mother in a huge room almost empty, I spoke with a man waiting for his wife.
In fact, what had been waiting three years is that cancer abandon her, and talked about it with the naturalness that gives living things, and perhaps become more so terrible for the listener.
forward together. I do not know how it will be elsewhere, but here we are accustomed to passivity has always felt even in the hospital waiting.
After a while she came, her head bald from chemotherapy. She wore a green chiffon scarf in hand, the same green suit he wore the same green shoes.
- Do you help me? - She told her husband, I took blood and I can not tie my handkerchief.
He got up, carefully folded handkerchief and placed him in the head by arranging each fold, with a love that I have rarely seen.
February 14 ... supposedly was the "day of love." I noted I was a boy in the street, much earlier, while walking toward the hospital.
had a thousand thoughts intertwined when he stood before me and dropped his "happy Valentine's Day. " I spit just a "thank you" while walking.
And there was the man, tying the handkerchief gently.
In these things, I think, is love, and not hide behind empty dates.
(I was in your eyes when I looked, and I was no longer alone.)

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Valentine's Day Water

The water came out strong, stopping for a moment to regain his body back then, with large explosions.
My brother took me by the shoulders and pushed me so that I splashes droplets, while the sound of the spray on brass tub reminded me that many times we had run away from home.
The water was hot! Mom smiled
wetting the hands (which should not return to burn the heavy pots heating prevented cold baths), as if somehow the water could restore some of the heat that was lost that war had been stolen, not recover and never ... Juanito
"Come," he said then, "Come both. Feel this ...
Then, as if it were magic, the water was intertwined with my hand and gave me warmth.

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Anger, sadness ...
told me not to cry without imagining that the drops and rolled down my face.
do not know why, suddenly I feel like this (or maybe I know, but loath to admit it).
In a way that eludes to the reason, I feel rejected ...
(maybe hard to admit because it makes sense).
is this, only this what I get.
could decorate it with adjectives, make it pleasing to the eyes that dwell, but would remain just that.

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decided to cross the bar, the air filled lungs stabbed.
We did it because it is close to the theater, and how he always had to wait a while before cashing the paycheck ... it is a bar where you serve well and where the pizza is rich and cheap, so it is quite close to many places. Throughout my life have crossed paths many there, so I've visited as a granddaughter, as a friend, protester, student, as a sound ... Today was the latter's role was fulfilled.
From the window could be lit theater, taxis waiting for people to come out of the last function. The laughter of the audience was powerful, could be heard easily from the street.
Just hours earlier had turned on the console, the electricity flowing between the music while testing everything was fine. I have a few memories that I keep, words repeated ad nauseam that are wound in the head and eyes, gestures, improvised sections that are silent (in which I feel a perfume known What a joy to take the back of his hand to his mouth and find ...). And always
people, people who dazzles you ...
a couple of months ago, entered the room a couple of young girls, the two blinds.
At that time working on another play, a monologue of something I wrote earlier. The two left happy, saying that they had loved the show.
returned a few days ago, and I saw that happen to stowing it in the same seats ... I remember some talk with my partner, it's good to return to the theater, what would be "see" a play with my eyes closed and things like that, soon to be cut by listening, with unbelieving ears, like one of them closed the stick and said to the other;
- Did you notice? The same places from last time.