entries in Magazine
with original-language text
from “The Black Minutes”
Up until now, the most important nightmare I've had in my life I had when I was traveling by bus on a highway lined by pines. I haven't been able to decipher its meaning, at least, not entirely. It was nighttime, but I couldn't sleep. Every time I started to nod off, the headlights of cars coming from the opposite direction or the jolting of the bus jarred me awake. I knew I was finally asleep when I no longer heard the engine's drone and the oncoming headlights turned...
On the Death of the Author
Written on my soul is your face And when I write about you it is you that I desire -Garcilaso de la Vega There are stories that seem impossible to tell. It must be at least ten years since I traveled through California and since then, I've been trying to relate, without much success, the story of a great ending: that of Ishi, a Yahi Indian who was found in a state of nature in the remote cowboy town of Oroville, in the month of August 1910. I had always wanted to take a road trip...
Vladimiro the Arab
Vladimiro Pérez isn't exactly an expert on the Islamic world, though he likes to think of himself as one. Sedentary by nature, a man without great ambitions, he has lived for many years with his wife and daughter in a modest apartment that he does not own, a collection of shabby rooms that he rents for half his salary. Though she is a tolerant woman, his wife is tired of hearing him express his opinion on issues that have so little relevance in the life of a Mexican family....
from “The Perfect Novel”
Chapter Five We were working on "recording" the following scenes from my novel: the Sunday lunch in the garden at Manuel's house, where the two families part amicably, mothers and aunts included; Manuel's family life, Ana's, their respective conjugal misery, their children, the frustrations and pleasures of their daily lives and routines; we were about to arrive at the adulterers' next rendezvous which would end with the tragedy that would give rise to the plot of the...
A Failed Journey
They warned her that one more offense against good behavior and the promised trip to the promised land (the United States) would be cancelled and to please return the mechanical pencil she'd filched from her classmate Agni's backpack during recess, Agni who was sobbing inconsolably like a coward in the arms of fat "Miss Becky" in a corner of the classroom. The little brat, without any trace of shame or guilt, slowly pulled a Superman refillable mechanical pencil from under her...
Standing Still for the Night
Cast your dark line over broken tides. Blanket the blank spaces. Stars spring from your cracks and the moon rides in your pocket. Cast it like shadows flown from your back. Hold that pose. Take into you canyon and wood. Late nights when we were together busying ourselves in barrooms, I'd enjoy our ignorance. Now I wait for our lines to potentially collide; you will hear the gossip that takes away my breath. For I'm not whole, nor was I...
The Two Boys
Two Romany boys were sent, sent across the great sea. Plato for brawling, Lasho for stealing the purse of a great lady. And when they came to the other land, The land that's over the sea, Plato was quickly hung, but Lasho became husband to a great lady. Do you want to know who the lady was? It was the lady from whom he'd stolen the purse: The boy had a black witching eye, And she had followed him across the great sea.