I've mentioned before that I enjoy reading. It is about time I do not live buried in a book. But when one falls in my hands I read it from the inside out. I get into it. I Abstract of everything. In the pages of my books are ink ribbons highlighting lines that are inscribed in my heart, tears are dry, there are sighs shut and more than once, the sound of a bang ...
Since I moved to Caracas as I enjoyed the very Filven girl and 'people , because these things unfortunately do not reach the interior, at least not like here- and since the first time I freaked me the sublime fragrance mix I found in it: the grass of the park and dust from the pages of used books, the sky abiertísimo day or night and the white canvas of the stands, the nature of Ávila wonderful stands defiant from the grass of the park and the arms of aluminum and acrylic fur of the sheds at the fair. It is a place and an event that is full of magic for people like me, yearn to see us surrounded by cabinets of paper rather than powdered glass and the lights of any mall. A magical place that despite the ideological and rhetorical framework of politicking, one is embedded in the world of literary us wrapped in his coat of freedoms.
This year, I enjoyed it a lot ... one night to talk and meet with my friends one afternoon to share with my son and another later to get into it and ruin the world for a few hours the result? A few examples of poetry, several essays, a couple of workshops, two criticisms, many smiles and even newspaper for the dog ...
Ah! forget me not ... a scare: It turns out that after a puppet show in which Charlie stood mesmerized, appeared among the crowd a girl dressed in the uniform of the Liberator and spoke to the small of Bolivar. Amid of exposure asked
- To see little children who can tell me how Bolivar was as a child?
To my surprise, Charlie raised his hand. The girl took him to the front. I looked at the sky and asked: - What will God say?
- To see my love ... Do you know how it was Bolivar as a child?
- Si - said Charlie with a wide smile -
- Yes? See and What was Bolivar as a child?
- Small! - While shrugged it clear gesture of " who do not know."
Everyone laughed and I was happy again. When he came to sit, I hugged him. His heart was beating a million but his face was the best embodiment poetry book I got at the fair.
leave algunitas photos ...
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barking Besos!
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