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When the heart is in pain |
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Written by Pablo Corral Vega
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I still wonder where the land of phantoms begins and the land of the
living ends. As I understand it , those boundaries were erased long
ago in a cataclysm, an unspeakable sea quake, that some call the
Spanish Conquest: waves awash with crosses destined to bury themselves
in the coppery hearts of the idols. One night at the very instant of a death that happened several
kilometers away, there was a knocking at the window. "Sister, what are
you doing, why didn't you use the door?" my grandmother asked with
surprise. "I only came to say good-bye," the shade replied.
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Between Two Worlds |
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Written by Pablo Corral Vega
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Balcony of the Clouds
Sometimes when I need to go back to
the house of my beginnings, the house that is my center and point of
reference, the place where my identity was formed, I travel to a city
far above the clouds. There I forget for a moment the daily struggle,
the fear of death that is, in truth, fear of life.
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The Andes of Pablo Corral |
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Written by Mario Vargas Llosa
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When we close our eyes and think of the distant Andes, the first image
that usually comes to mind is that of a panorama devoid of human life.
Cordilleras with jutting, snowy peaks, dizzying abysses, and vast
solitudes where occasionally a condor may soar, or deep valleys where
we see the timid faces, the large frightened eyes, of flocks of llamas,
alpacas, and delicate vicuñas organized in family groups in which each
male is surrounded by his three or four concubines.
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