Sculpture Fais'Art Chemin, Gilles Perez, Chapdes in Beaufort (Auvergne, France) .
(Photo © Ber'Colly / Flickriver, 2010)
The last time the passerby came to Madrid was to meet Clara Obligado in the creative writing workshop handling, in the Plaza del Angel, when it ended its educational task. She had said there and then go to dinner together in an excellent Argentine restaurant Mail Street and talk late into the night: the life and nostalgia, Argentina had to abandon when the military seized power and committed their egregious crimes against humanity, and more human than the divine.
Clara While clearing the large table in the workshop, which is both chair and desk, and picked cups, plates and remnants of candy with which his students (and is) had given away more pleasant to talk instructive literary, transient and leafing through leafing through a few books scattered on a shelf. Clara suddenly approached him and said, "Take this, you will like."
was a copy shrink wrap still Buñuel's knife, Carmen Vega .* When the bystander came home with a suitcase full, as always, new books and old, who had given Clara remained long in the pile of printed and bound that grows on the left side of his desk, until emerged suddenly, as if drawn by an unconscious foreboding, and this transient began to read, and could not leave until the climax, closed with a curious-and in this case nothing anachronistic- Nihil Obstat.
At times it is difficult to discern in the book, including the short story and poetry. The verb Carmen Vega (Pinos Puente, Granada, 1953), a woman who lives mainly in the film world, is fast, simple and elegant, and has the virtue of not showing at any moment the effort of brevity that often discovers the trap in the short story. Behind every story there is life experience and lots of sensitivity.
Carmen Vega.
is read at the fourth deck Buñuel's knife is the story of a journey, "a path that leads from the initial order for children to freedom, an unlikely journey from memory to desire, from a painful identity to the open spaces and frontier of a new identity and choice. " So the author proposes that succession of short stories, although the bystander believes that each of them has its own identity and be separated well in the set, which seems an added value. Although this is his first book, Carmen Vega has published stories in anthologies, and in 2003 won first prize Hiperbreves the Madrid Book Fair.
For the reader of this blog might enjoy the fullness of literary expression of Carmen Vega, transient plays two of his stories, which will surely drive more than one (or one) to order the book to your bookseller.
Thanks, Clara.
Undated As
K. Sören, not sick of inertia, I ran out crying in the pavilion used to snap my feet. The others, those was decided long ago stripped of everything, slept without dreams, depriving me of the words, burning my eyes with the lime of the violent colors. But still, when I wake up every morning, I can hear the rain fanning the land, the wind whipping the roof, the sound of the sun crushing the leaves of the trees. Even when awake, I can feel his face with his hands and put on my socks.
The friend
A small mast on the road, announces missing nearly three hundred miles to get anywhere. I drive slowly, with the landscape nothing surprises me. I glide along the carpet Granite looking for a way to comfort me. In the case I just, in memory than necessary.
In the distance, a man beckons me. Stop the car. He sits next to me. I hear your breathing, your body warms me, his voice steals mine. I hold my leaving half with yours.
step on the gas. The road disappears. The dense powder is mixed with fire. sounds on the radio Stand by Me.
* Carmen Vega
Buñuel's knife
Watcher Notebooks, Granada, 2008
60 pages ISBN: 978-84-95430-30-4
was a copy shrink wrap still Buñuel's knife, Carmen Vega .* When the bystander came home with a suitcase full, as always, new books and old, who had given Clara remained long in the pile of printed and bound that grows on the left side of his desk, until emerged suddenly, as if drawn by an unconscious foreboding, and this transient began to read, and could not leave until the climax, closed with a curious-and in this case nothing anachronistic- Nihil Obstat.
At times it is difficult to discern in the book, including the short story and poetry. The verb Carmen Vega (Pinos Puente, Granada, 1953), a woman who lives mainly in the film world, is fast, simple and elegant, and has the virtue of not showing at any moment the effort of brevity that often discovers the trap in the short story. Behind every story there is life experience and lots of sensitivity.
Carmen Vega. is read at the fourth deck Buñuel's knife is the story of a journey, "a path that leads from the initial order for children to freedom, an unlikely journey from memory to desire, from a painful identity to the open spaces and frontier of a new identity and choice. " So the author proposes that succession of short stories, although the bystander believes that each of them has its own identity and be separated well in the set, which seems an added value. Although this is his first book, Carmen Vega has published stories in anthologies, and in 2003 won first prize Hiperbreves the Madrid Book Fair.
For the reader of this blog might enjoy the fullness of literary expression of Carmen Vega, transient plays two of his stories, which will surely drive more than one (or one) to order the book to your bookseller.
Thanks, Clara.
Undated As
K. Sören, not sick of inertia, I ran out crying in the pavilion used to snap my feet. The others, those was decided long ago stripped of everything, slept without dreams, depriving me of the words, burning my eyes with the lime of the violent colors. But still, when I wake up every morning, I can hear the rain fanning the land, the wind whipping the roof, the sound of the sun crushing the leaves of the trees. Even when awake, I can feel his face with his hands and put on my socks.
The friend
A small mast on the road, announces missing nearly three hundred miles to get anywhere. I drive slowly, with the landscape nothing surprises me. I glide along the carpet Granite looking for a way to comfort me. In the case I just, in memory than necessary.
In the distance, a man beckons me. Stop the car. He sits next to me. I hear your breathing, your body warms me, his voice steals mine. I hold my leaving half with yours.
step on the gas. The road disappears. The dense powder is mixed with fire. sounds on the radio Stand by Me.
* Carmen Vega Buñuel's knife
Watcher Notebooks, Granada, 2008
60 pages ISBN: 978-84-95430-30-4
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