Thursday, December 11, 2008
Valima Invitation Quotes
MEXICO WOMEN POETS IN THE LAND OF THE CLOUDS MEXICO GUADALUPE
I said again become familiar names
things and all the world of oblivion, come back. Back
air traveler in the perfume
returns. Dark
forgotten corner. Rib
in leaf fall. Back
and spreads, aroma
between things
and says the exact figure of his day.
Who hopes?
The threshold
death with his eyes looking at me. Under the lamp
- do good hand-
My father and my mother - I write.
parents parents - write.
In light of the lamp
- do good hand-
Sola
with my ghost writing. 
Women poets in the Land of the Clouds, 2008
Anthology is published by the Centro de Estudios de la Cultura Mixteca
MEXICO Emilio Compiler fire poems of 51 poets from around the world meeting participants XVI
MY POEMS IN THE ANTHOLOGY
ELENA BOOK
----
love I left for later
time is a treasure that is not mine
The house is a mouth absorbed.
is a sea, vast and tumultuous, suffocating me.
and I can not swim.
sink my hands into the soapy water and shine
sheets, white foam beneath dreams
and drawing water.
rub the bodice, petticoat, lace silk
outside numbs me
A lavender scent a perfume
I do not know
sea climbs through my hands to the face and blushes
down to the empty womb. The perfume is a snake
nesting, secret in my sleeping body. ------------
time is a treasure that is not mine
The house is a mouth absorbed.
is a sea, vast and tumultuous, suffocating me.
and I can not swim.
sink my hands into the soapy water and shine
sheets, white foam beneath dreams
and drawing water.
rub the bodice, petticoat, lace silk
outside numbs me
A lavender scent a perfume
I do not know
sea climbs through my hands to the face and blushes
down to the empty womb. The perfume is a snake
nesting, secret in my sleeping body. ------------
I give way and I believe God Baldovino Glauce
My hands are doves of flour when kneading.
fly on the table, draw a nest egg
get there, and the whiteness
cradles the sun and life as a gold coin.
Stretch the dough, I plunge my hands and I think she
God ..
A perfume to mount smoked in the afternoon. A whiff of bread
invades the house. Then
as a mild aroma, comforting me
oblivion. --------------
My hands are doves of flour when kneading.
fly on the table, draw a nest egg
get there, and the whiteness
cradles the sun and life as a gold coin.
Stretch the dough, I plunge my hands and I think she
God ..
A perfume to mount smoked in the afternoon. A whiff of bread
invades the house. Then
as a mild aroma, comforting me
oblivion. --------------
De La Caja de Madera
Now they have returned.
For all paths of the night have been
to mourn in my bed
Delmira Agustini
-
For all paths of the night have been
to mourn in my bed
Delmira Agustini
-
I said again become familiar names
things and all the world of oblivion, come back. Back
air traveler in the perfume
returns. Dark
forgotten corner. Rib
in leaf fall. Back
and spreads, aroma
between things
and says the exact figure of his day.
Who hopes?
The threshold
death with his eyes looking at me. Under the lamp
- do good hand-
My father and my mother - I write.
parents parents - write.
In light of the lamp
- do good hand-
Sola
with my ghost writing.
Confidentiality Of Communication Clause
Cuautepec (The hill of the eagle)
The magic in the clouds, the magic between the people who live to the rhythm of the old men.
are governed by customs and maintain community ownership
Howto Make A Homemade Trailers
Among 
mountains, the warm reception the Mixteco people with Lilia, Yeni, Isaura and Lydia. Behold
mountains, the warm reception the Mixteco people with Lilia, Yeni, Isaura and Lydia. Behold poetry
Should I Swim With Having Herpes
CAYOAPILLA JEROME OF THE PYRAMID OF THE MOON, MY FAMILY
Where the moon is dawning memory
Where jaguars live
blue eye and look beyond the forest.
where the wind blows and shatters the cloak of night.
Where the look is:
singular point
The other side of the plot
The leap into the void
blue eye and look beyond the forest.
where the wind blows and shatters the cloak of night.
Where the look is:
singular point
The other side of the plot
The leap into the void
Where the moon is dawning memory
Can I Unregister My Ipod Nano?
TEOTIHUACÁN IN MEXICO
Raul and Lupita, the warm hosts Karla with Alma Sandoval, Lilia Ramirez, Frida Varinia, splendid poets and friends
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Outdoor Plastic Santa Claus Decoration
WAIST LOOM Triqui women
Triqui This beautiful woman, she wove in her loom shawls to suit the little ladies in my house, she was dressed for my picture, with its woven and embroidered blouse.
The oral tradition says that the Triqui came from Monte Alban, where they were expelled for disobeying the orders of the king. They moved to the bottom of the Oaxacan coast, but due to extremely hot weather areas sought higher Triqui languages, Mixtec and Amuzgo Cuicatec family belong to the Mixtec. Women are monolingual. Most of the men speak English and Triqui. The Triqui also speak Mixteco.
(From the book of Elena)
With Mount indelible dyes, weaves
with their roots. Green
clear
beam on the underside grayish green and yellow
in
thread on the loom writes an ancient poem. Plot
she weaves the
afternoon heat in the shade of the house, the masonry, on the patio.
hard earth, salt in tears on the rough wool. Rough
as my mother's hands weaving
with everything needed.
Triqui This beautiful woman, she wove in her loom shawls to suit the little ladies in my house, she was dressed for my picture, with its woven and embroidered blouse. The oral tradition says that the Triqui came from Monte Alban, where they were expelled for disobeying the orders of the king. They moved to the bottom of the Oaxacan coast, but due to extremely hot weather areas sought higher Triqui languages, Mixtec and Amuzgo Cuicatec family belong to the Mixtec. Women are monolingual. Most of the men speak English and Triqui. The Triqui also speak Mixteco.
(From the book of Elena)
With Mount indelible dyes, weaves
with their roots. Green
clear
beam on the underside grayish green and yellow
in
thread on the loom writes an ancient poem. Plot
she weaves the
afternoon heat in the shade of the house, the masonry, on the patio.
hard earth, salt in tears on the rough wool. Rough
as my mother's hands weaving
with everything needed.
Leonor Mauvecin
Kate´s Playground New Gallery
NEXT POETRY READING COOKER COOKING
They taste the ladies, which ground chile, which quenched our hunger with her tenderness. They asked us poems
They taste the ladies, which ground chile, which quenched our hunger with her tenderness. They asked us poems Mucus Brown Discharge
Also known as "Black Mole" is the local variant ( Oaxacan ) of mole. This sauce, which has a darker color than the mole poblano , is prepared with a lot of ingredients among which are the chiles "chilhuacle black" "mulatto," "corridor", which contribute its color, and avocado leaves toast peanuts, nuts , onions, anise seed , chocolate, etc.
Smileyhub.com Install
CLOSE ENCOUNTER OF FINE ARTS, DF.MÉXICO
I want to thank Emilio Fire, for having given us this encounter with the poetry and being today at the Palace of Fine Arts to share with you our word
just arrived in the country of magic
just arrived in the country of the clouds
is there deep Mexico, with their voices, their hands, their eyes.
And we poets, who come from far
With the word to the surface
With the poem in the mouth
will break our bones to pierce the mist
actually open our doors and let in the wind that tells us
I hence the word among the people. Behold
poetry
And we went to look
toured remote villages, spoke to the people
With the people of the Mixteca
and were greeted with a warm embrace: Behold
poetry.
I want to thank Emilio Fire, for having given us this encounter with the poetry and being today at the Palace of Fine Arts to share with you our word
just arrived in the country of magic
just arrived in the country of the clouds
is there deep Mexico, with their voices, their hands, their eyes.
And we poets, who come from far
With the word to the surface
With the poem in the mouth
will break our bones to pierce the mist
actually open our doors and let in the wind that tells us
I hence the word among the people. Behold
poetry
And we went to look
toured remote villages, spoke to the people
With the people of the Mixteca
and were greeted with a warm embrace: Behold
poetry.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Where Can I Buy A Margarita Bucket
POETS OF THE WORLD IN THE COUNTRY OF THE CLOUDS
Lic Leonor Mauvecin Argentina
Poet
Present: Very dear friend
poet
Mexico
As organizers of the XVI International Conference: Women Poets in the Land of the Clouds, and in recognition of his work and his person, we extend our most cordial invitation to representing his country participate in the commemoration of this event.
The XVI Meeting will be held from 12 to 18 November and is organized in coordination with the National Council for Culture and the Arts, the National Institute of Fine Arts, the Government of the State of Oaxaca, the National Autonomous University Mexico and Mixtec communities. Like every year, this meeting will gather in Mexico to the most outstanding authors contemporary poetry.
The essential part of the XVI Meeting will be held in the Mixteca region of Oaxaca state, but we also have presentations in other university forums, and popular culture culminating in a grand concert at the Palacio de las Bellas Artes, Mexico City .
Our invitation includes lodging, meals and local transportation during the days of the meeting. You only have to cover the cost of your flight to Mexico City.
Please note that this meeting takes its name from a word meaning Mixtec, which is "the place or country of clouds." We hope your presence in November, while both receive a warm greeting. Sincerely
A
Fire Coordinator General Emilio
Region Mixteca, Oaxaca, Mexico in September 2008
... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
STUDIES CENTER Mixtec culture. Trajan 39, CENTER, HUAJUAPAN DE LEON, OAX. TEL. 953 532 97 64. 
Lic Leonor Mauvecin Argentina
Poet
Present: Very dear friend
poet
Mexico
As organizers of the XVI International Conference: Women Poets in the Land of the Clouds, and in recognition of his work and his person, we extend our most cordial invitation to representing his country participate in the commemoration of this event.
The XVI Meeting will be held from 12 to 18 November and is organized in coordination with the National Council for Culture and the Arts, the National Institute of Fine Arts, the Government of the State of Oaxaca, the National Autonomous University Mexico and Mixtec communities. Like every year, this meeting will gather in Mexico to the most outstanding authors contemporary poetry.
The essential part of the XVI Meeting will be held in the Mixteca region of Oaxaca state, but we also have presentations in other university forums, and popular culture culminating in a grand concert at the Palacio de las Bellas Artes, Mexico City .
Our invitation includes lodging, meals and local transportation during the days of the meeting. You only have to cover the cost of your flight to Mexico City.
Please note that this meeting takes its name from a word meaning Mixtec, which is "the place or country of clouds." We hope your presence in November, while both receive a warm greeting. Sincerely
A
Fire Coordinator General Emilio
Region Mixteca, Oaxaca, Mexico in September 2008
... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
STUDIES CENTER Mixtec culture. Trajan 39, CENTER, HUAJUAPAN DE LEON, OAX. TEL. 953 532 97 64.
Converting Back Porch To Room
heptagonal
heptagonal
BOOK PRESENTATION AT THE PALACE FERREYRA TUESDAY 26 AUGUST
heptagonal
BOOK PRESENTATION AT THE PALACE FERREYRA TUESDAY 26 AUGUST
Taylor Lautner Teeth White
based in Seven Voices Cordoba: Cordoba most by birth, others by persuasion and love. Three women and four men, as a trivium and quadrivium. . It is difficult to make a common ground for individuality asserted precisely is the merit of the whole. We can not talk generational competition for among the largest and the youngest there are twenty years apart. Neither of poets beginners because they all have several books published and some have achieved significant awards. All have university education without that the poets become minority. His readings are noted, the reappraisal of the classic but not evade the reality, experience and express. Different voices, different topics, and the only passion for poetry as "invisible persecuted." María Zambrano said that poetry, when it comes to embody the full, not something that poets "do" but something that "makes" the poets inevitably.. " Seven voices that make up a concert in which all blend and one out of tune. Seven voices can come together precisely because they are different - not homogeneous, and converge towards integration. As the seven colors of the rainbow, or the seven notes of the musical scale or the seven days of Genesis or the seven gifts of the Spirit or the seven petitions of the Our Father And we could go on listing the symbolism of the number seven and number plenary summons these poets.
The title refers precisely to the reality of seven "agonists" fighters with the word and uncompromising defense of the word you are not satisfied by chance as they constitute a group that meets regularly. Because are different and enriched dialogue, because they are different but not distant in the common pilgrimage towards the appointer word in a single-minded pursuit., because the search has more than finding "Lemon). In all lies a poetic, sometimes explicit, but always at work. And a fight with and for the word that is offered or hidden, fill or empty, redeem or conviction. Behind the time / I'll just / words / writing random / in a book "(Mauvecin,) I have not heard that. My rough edge / is all I have. / The rest is artifice of poets. (Castellanos) There is no language to translate the light (Velasco), I have to choose between silence and the word I choose to cry (Street) No word deeper than the void (Levin) Who says it does not matter more than the word / that rocks you from cold to tropical, passion to death (Rabinovich).
But no comment can add anything to the text. Because ultimately all that is said about poetry, but rather left orphaned poetry. Just matter embark on the adventure of reading these seven poets to meet and, in them, knowing that the human and by word man reveals what it is. Lila
Perren
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Consequences For Fake Id In Ontario
The Type 3 Workshop
Type 3 Workshop
c
oordinado by Leonor Mauvecin
FOREWORD
Writing is a quest for meaning. Perhaps it is to find the hidden meaning behind things and events that depend on our relationship with them.
When we let the words run through the role we are expressing our conception of the world, particularly how to understand and feel life, and many times when writing discovered what was hidden, even for ourselves.
Borges says, "how great is it something great, but imagine" how great is the everyday, the things that surround us in our own lives, we just need to see and count them differently "imagine other possibilities of the ordinary "" It is usually treated imaginatively what constitutes the uniqueness of a good story "or a good poem.
rush to an imaginary world can live other lives. The words are a link between the real world and that other, that we make in our mind and that comes from experience.
Memory is then the cabinet of the writer, who goes to find the elements that will to construct stories in which recognize himself, no matter how strange it seems history will always record what she experienced or read.
Borges in his foreword to the book, Brodie's report says: "I tried not know with what success, the direct writing stories. I dare say they are simple, not on earth a single page, one word, that is, since all postulate the universe, whose most notable attribute is the complexity. "
Writing is a journey and in it, the scribes have lightened the ship, carrying the spices that flavor, but only the essential words are enough, they reach its meaning. Free travel, let unfettered flow inside, overcome with perseverance the difficulties of the journey, but when they get to the promised land, collect the fruit.
So, we start the journey to the complex world of words in search of adventure. Each set can be solved in a thousand ways, every thought can be decoded by the inner world of the author, the character or the reader from
But, like Ulysses, in search of new thrills, the scribes had to cast off, dare to dream, to imagine possible worlds, away from public areas. Do not try this wonderful, because in the simple things there is beauty. Do not try to persuade fellow travelers only, as Borges says, distract and inspire.
invite you to share this journey. Journey you have taken members of the Scribe Workshop powered by wind of imagination, with the sails of paper of the third book of The Write Workshop will sail seas dark and bright, and know different ports, where mature life as a fruit. Bethlehem
Antuña
us to look in the "memory, the scent of people" in the summer afternoons of his people: "the smell of wet earth that precedes rain, watching the children play from your window, "the smell of tangerines stolen." In language stripped and a clock without hands, drawn on paper, marks the time of nostalgia, he recalls Elena, our friend away. Love is a constant in his writing, thrills with its poetic imagery and discovered, in daily life: the beauty.
A clinic where the absurd is their place and the mood is from the story, is the place where Hugo Caparroz stands. On the same trip we went into the seedy world of Romero who lives a life without time, "as a vindication, used the fragility of paper and drew a clock on the back of a white sheet." Skillfully, the author brings joy to sadness with credible stories and poignant. Elsa
Carranza, notable narrator allows fluent observe the world from an intimate look. The pain of the family home in the bye and the persistence of life "was all in me would leave me in my soul, my blood." The impossible love, humor, irony brought to life in inanimate objects. Love and death in stories where reality and fantasy flourish as a "little white rose in his fingers."
poetry appears in the hands of the young poet Mercedes San Luis, Agustín Edmé, and focuses on the town with its anxieties and fantasies. The poet begins a trip there inside, it seeks itself and presents a universe of questions, Who walks in circles at night?. The word is assumed the dimension of an intangible materiality pursued and questions
Now is the death with his load of anguish which finds and takes us into the labyrinths of doom. A death that also looks with tenderness and "went away in toes. " It's Luis Garay, their stories where the pain, love, tenderness and terror, are held in a coven of visions of the afterlife. Situated on the edge of existence, through the magic of a solid narrative and experienced.
"will write an epitaph in the air to come back," says Karina Godoy, and all return safely to the poetry of absence, where the word about a world without doubt and lyrical prose appears as a ritual marking the experience. Young poet, who owns a mature voice and a poignant possessed.
"That, he writes, with pulse weak and thin ink an eternal night." Is Maria Luz Guzman, just fifteen years old, surprised. She is being sought between words, which asks who is "Does spilling petals and stardust on your pillow? "is the one that" remains in front of his view with the naked blade piercing the wall and a tear pending, is light and as its name tells us, illuminated by his poetry.
"I become my beloved's skin like a hurricane that destroys everything." And is deeply passionate lyricism of the poet, Fanny Jaretón, allowing us to delve into the recesses of love and eroticism through the evocative power of the poetic word, delivery, absence and tear are combined in an intimate, personal voice "love takes its verb her chest and obedient scribe, writes for not dying. "
" The spur of the night stuck his stinger, and deluded man opened his eyes "like a sting are these stories of profound lyricism, daily life becomes tangible in the successful words of Maria Moreno. The characters of the people, the wonder of the field, the black dog, the bird orphans, women and routine, are realized in these texts deep. Stories convene, as those children who "ran behind the illusion of grasping in his hands the greatness of the light."
Alicia Osuna hand leads us to the world of childhood, the words in his stories smell freshness, innocence. Love is a flower that opens in the memories of times past. Restores life between the branches of a tree. The words are crossed by such a depth, which invites to drink a few drops of dew and the wind mecernos cool of the evening.
The misleading, cheating, miracles, are the stuff of which Nilda Paz elaborates these stories where intrigue and surprise stories come together in trapping and moving. With precise language but hidden lyricism, the author delves into the innermost of the characters showing their depth psychology "My eyes see a piece of deep blue sky" says one of his stories and could say that we readers too. As small etchings
Dora Piñero, paints scenes of life. They are remnants of an event that was torn off like the petals of a flower. Owner of simple language, it reduces the stroke of reality and accurate few words. No need anymore to have the game, the surprise death, summer naps, the wonder of the elf or excuse the crime. And the lyricism that appears behind the incessant croaking up from the river, as a mark of time.
"It sprang a dream old and naked, a silk flower petals, as well as those petals that Rodríguez named Florence, are the poems he gives us from his youth, the poet. The interior space of his poetry opens up the realm of lived with the pain of the relentless pursuit of love. "A tear between the mirror and me." A reality that is shown in mirror image where all we ever look.
lover of detective stories, Francisco Salaris wonder: "Am I, as my teacher, the chaos?" With his fifteen years leaves no room for doubt: it's a writer. With a precocious talent, giving life to these stories where the plot and surprise show qualities of a good story. Amazed at the display of imagination to resolve arguments that rely on a mature language and strong bill.
For the infinite corridors of the maze leads his readers Daniel Santoro. With expertise unthreaded an old ball of words and offers a narrative that seduces and moving. This excellent narrator leads us to the world of unfulfilled desires in the skin of young love with his French teacher. And with the magic of a strong and expressive voice walk the last country in the incomplete manuscript with him and discovered the poetry of language.
The speech has the power to hold the arrow and launched, in a reversal of the time its own space. The time of the story is the one who rescues the life with the smallest details, and poetry, is the time of the inner world is manifested. Any discourse that seeks a particular aesthetic, is the time it never gets old.
Grande is the challenge of white paper, the scribes seek in him the possibility of tracing the bridge which words and things.
I invite you to an encounter with the word, to discover the fictional universe of these authors, find the reflection of the inner world that summons, and in it ourselves, as part of the whole that contains us and justifies us. Leonor
Mauvecin 
Type 3 Workshop
c
oordinado by Leonor Mauvecin
FOREWORD
Writing is a quest for meaning. Perhaps it is to find the hidden meaning behind things and events that depend on our relationship with them.
When we let the words run through the role we are expressing our conception of the world, particularly how to understand and feel life, and many times when writing discovered what was hidden, even for ourselves.
Borges says, "how great is it something great, but imagine" how great is the everyday, the things that surround us in our own lives, we just need to see and count them differently "imagine other possibilities of the ordinary "" It is usually treated imaginatively what constitutes the uniqueness of a good story "or a good poem.
rush to an imaginary world can live other lives. The words are a link between the real world and that other, that we make in our mind and that comes from experience.
Memory is then the cabinet of the writer, who goes to find the elements that will to construct stories in which recognize himself, no matter how strange it seems history will always record what she experienced or read.
Borges in his foreword to the book, Brodie's report says: "I tried not know with what success, the direct writing stories. I dare say they are simple, not on earth a single page, one word, that is, since all postulate the universe, whose most notable attribute is the complexity. "
Writing is a journey and in it, the scribes have lightened the ship, carrying the spices that flavor, but only the essential words are enough, they reach its meaning. Free travel, let unfettered flow inside, overcome with perseverance the difficulties of the journey, but when they get to the promised land, collect the fruit.
So, we start the journey to the complex world of words in search of adventure. Each set can be solved in a thousand ways, every thought can be decoded by the inner world of the author, the character or the reader from
But, like Ulysses, in search of new thrills, the scribes had to cast off, dare to dream, to imagine possible worlds, away from public areas. Do not try this wonderful, because in the simple things there is beauty. Do not try to persuade fellow travelers only, as Borges says, distract and inspire.
invite you to share this journey. Journey you have taken members of the Scribe Workshop powered by wind of imagination, with the sails of paper of the third book of The Write Workshop will sail seas dark and bright, and know different ports, where mature life as a fruit. Bethlehem
Antuña
us to look in the "memory, the scent of people" in the summer afternoons of his people: "the smell of wet earth that precedes rain, watching the children play from your window, "the smell of tangerines stolen." In language stripped and a clock without hands, drawn on paper, marks the time of nostalgia, he recalls Elena, our friend away. Love is a constant in his writing, thrills with its poetic imagery and discovered, in daily life: the beauty.
A clinic where the absurd is their place and the mood is from the story, is the place where Hugo Caparroz stands. On the same trip we went into the seedy world of Romero who lives a life without time, "as a vindication, used the fragility of paper and drew a clock on the back of a white sheet." Skillfully, the author brings joy to sadness with credible stories and poignant. Elsa
Carranza, notable narrator allows fluent observe the world from an intimate look. The pain of the family home in the bye and the persistence of life "was all in me would leave me in my soul, my blood." The impossible love, humor, irony brought to life in inanimate objects. Love and death in stories where reality and fantasy flourish as a "little white rose in his fingers."
poetry appears in the hands of the young poet Mercedes San Luis, Agustín Edmé, and focuses on the town with its anxieties and fantasies. The poet begins a trip there inside, it seeks itself and presents a universe of questions, Who walks in circles at night?. The word is assumed the dimension of an intangible materiality pursued and questions
Now is the death with his load of anguish which finds and takes us into the labyrinths of doom. A death that also looks with tenderness and "went away in toes. " It's Luis Garay, their stories where the pain, love, tenderness and terror, are held in a coven of visions of the afterlife. Situated on the edge of existence, through the magic of a solid narrative and experienced.
"will write an epitaph in the air to come back," says Karina Godoy, and all return safely to the poetry of absence, where the word about a world without doubt and lyrical prose appears as a ritual marking the experience. Young poet, who owns a mature voice and a poignant possessed.
"That, he writes, with pulse weak and thin ink an eternal night." Is Maria Luz Guzman, just fifteen years old, surprised. She is being sought between words, which asks who is "Does spilling petals and stardust on your pillow? "is the one that" remains in front of his view with the naked blade piercing the wall and a tear pending, is light and as its name tells us, illuminated by his poetry.
"I become my beloved's skin like a hurricane that destroys everything." And is deeply passionate lyricism of the poet, Fanny Jaretón, allowing us to delve into the recesses of love and eroticism through the evocative power of the poetic word, delivery, absence and tear are combined in an intimate, personal voice "love takes its verb her chest and obedient scribe, writes for not dying. "
" The spur of the night stuck his stinger, and deluded man opened his eyes "like a sting are these stories of profound lyricism, daily life becomes tangible in the successful words of Maria Moreno. The characters of the people, the wonder of the field, the black dog, the bird orphans, women and routine, are realized in these texts deep. Stories convene, as those children who "ran behind the illusion of grasping in his hands the greatness of the light."
Alicia Osuna hand leads us to the world of childhood, the words in his stories smell freshness, innocence. Love is a flower that opens in the memories of times past. Restores life between the branches of a tree. The words are crossed by such a depth, which invites to drink a few drops of dew and the wind mecernos cool of the evening.
The misleading, cheating, miracles, are the stuff of which Nilda Paz elaborates these stories where intrigue and surprise stories come together in trapping and moving. With precise language but hidden lyricism, the author delves into the innermost of the characters showing their depth psychology "My eyes see a piece of deep blue sky" says one of his stories and could say that we readers too. As small etchings
Dora Piñero, paints scenes of life. They are remnants of an event that was torn off like the petals of a flower. Owner of simple language, it reduces the stroke of reality and accurate few words. No need anymore to have the game, the surprise death, summer naps, the wonder of the elf or excuse the crime. And the lyricism that appears behind the incessant croaking up from the river, as a mark of time.
"It sprang a dream old and naked, a silk flower petals, as well as those petals that Rodríguez named Florence, are the poems he gives us from his youth, the poet. The interior space of his poetry opens up the realm of lived with the pain of the relentless pursuit of love. "A tear between the mirror and me." A reality that is shown in mirror image where all we ever look.
lover of detective stories, Francisco Salaris wonder: "Am I, as my teacher, the chaos?" With his fifteen years leaves no room for doubt: it's a writer. With a precocious talent, giving life to these stories where the plot and surprise show qualities of a good story. Amazed at the display of imagination to resolve arguments that rely on a mature language and strong bill.
For the infinite corridors of the maze leads his readers Daniel Santoro. With expertise unthreaded an old ball of words and offers a narrative that seduces and moving. This excellent narrator leads us to the world of unfulfilled desires in the skin of young love with his French teacher. And with the magic of a strong and expressive voice walk the last country in the incomplete manuscript with him and discovered the poetry of language.
The speech has the power to hold the arrow and launched, in a reversal of the time its own space. The time of the story is the one who rescues the life with the smallest details, and poetry, is the time of the inner world is manifested. Any discourse that seeks a particular aesthetic, is the time it never gets old.
Grande is the challenge of white paper, the scribes seek in him the possibility of tracing the bridge which words and things.
I invite you to an encounter with the word, to discover the fictional universe of these authors, find the reflection of the inner world that summons, and in it ourselves, as part of the whole that contains us and justifies us. Leonor
Mauvecin
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