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Pastiche…

Dawn. Once again a grey light enters through the east window. I just read an interview with Eco, sent by Carlos Mayo, but I still haven’t finished reading ‘The name of the rose’.

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Armando Orozco Tovar

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It’s a formidable book, but, as it’s about priest things, its content deals with ‘the investigation of a series of assassinations’ (being about only thing that this gang has made from the caverns of the story), the reading of which I find rather heavy.

Christ wasn’t a priest, but a revolutionary who conquered because Spartacus was defeated.I heard him say this to Diego Montaña Cuellar in a conference, and I still believe it.

Another thing is that they only take into account his stigmata to collect silver, something Luis Vidales has also noted. This didn’t happen with Buddha and Mohamed, which aren’t gods but behaviours, i.e. ways of life.

“The world isn’t magical anymore”, Borge says. And neither was it yesterday, in the possession of the ‘King of the World’, in his white Vatican of Washington.

But the question is: Who chose the monarchy? Who runs it behind the scenes, like the King in the work of Alfred Jarry? And, who suggested to the Cuban-American R. Blanco, that he read something so average and dull. He should have at least called himself Richard Negro, as not to be so ironic.

It would have been better to choose a Columbian-Yank poet (of which there are plenty) but like I say, there never was true poetry, like the construction of a sincere poetic language.

They voted for someone that carries ‘Paradise’ through time, whom has the revolution of the dignity of Latin America: ‘The Worms’ they were called. What would they be called now? North-American-Cubans? Voters? Miami Mafia? What?

But, what does the black man want? Climate change began whilst in his possession, mostly generated by his capitalism, by being affected by hurricanes.If they weren’t they would have remained silent.

‘Us the people’, ‘May god bless them’, ‘We will preserve our planet’, (he didn’t lie) ‘Save ourselves of… were a string of clichés, that don’t lend themselves to a Nobel prize, as it may be from peace-imitation.

“The world isn’t magical anymore”. It was in the words of Albert Camus, who is a hundred since his birth and has been missing for fifty years.

It makes you wonder, why people don’t read ‘Rey Ubu’ to inspire themselves before making speeches, this way something new would be said.

Neither did his minstrel companion add magic to his lyrically great immigrant work. He spoke with a voice of New Orleans Jazz, and the other with the bumpy tone of a CNN presenter.

Ubu, spoke of mothers, immigrants, homosexuals, that, as the writer Francisco Sanchez says: “The homosexual political ambition is at the moment a species of trade-union, a pressure group, and for some members of its dogma a mafia exercise of its interests…. The right to marriage and adoption, therefore the retrogressive liberation.

In the background there were quotes, that don’t aspire to move even a grain of sand so that this deviant system ends, but rather to get money and votes.

It showed nothing of the dreadful blockade to Cuba, and of the uprising, that must surrender today.

Equally nothing about the liberation, which must be immanent, of the five heroic Cuban prisoners held unjustly in Miami.

Or of the Palestinian martyr by the Israeli Nazis. Neither was there anything of the deep crisis, which like a black hole, consumes their economic model.

He said nothing. Nothing at all, because “The world is no longer magical”…. It is only an imitation of God.

(Translated by Adam Brown)

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