The walls are silent places We hang paintings they don’t see They are said to have ears But they seldom cry Unless the hapless get lined For the crime of being free And shot like dogs by the great liberators Hundred years of solitude on the Golgotha We learn nothing, we just wallow in our […]
Just another few hundred years of solitude later Coca-Cola is the new American Fruit of economic neocolonialism The palpable fluidity of time waiting for the bus in a magic surrealist world Faces turned in one same direction in expectation With exception for the wise dog sleeping under the shelter Hundreds of years later José Arcadio’s […]