Late Nigt Stomach Ache

AGORA XVII. Travel

While the route passes over the side, the child C look at the pictures of the Andes, Buenos Aires immense night of a sunset with storm while descending in Ezeiza, remembers the kind of travel that Van lost at the airport one hour forty-five minutes, then do not feed the manual toll near Campana, puteaba like crazy, as he tried to put the belt F was asleep. Then close the notebook and look at the pens. This is not James, and Valpo. Not in the 612 to Sebastiana looked like a roller coaster, but Chile, between the houses. The voice of the guy who said: Sometimes, the groups end up living in houses, not hear more. Went out. But no pictures. A huge banner, a beacon to advertisements on outdoor screens, high, a library without material, lift the edge of a bay, pelicans and gulls paralyzed by a flash. The entrance by Orono in the night. The open suitcases on the floor of his house. The brothel's back. And the morning. Uploaded to the car and on the road again and now, far away in a gloom, showing the two buildings, but this is not Rosario's Lions and not see how it goes through just like space, geography. A Lucio Mansilla led the tour to gather volumes, journals and newspapers publish their dreams on the Pampa, explain that it was a journey. We dream and we were somewhere else. Neither account gave us the alteration of the landscape. And over there were no Indians with which to learn a little more civilization.

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XVI. The other house

I'm tired of Neruda. It not only his face and his name is, spectral, in every corner of Valpo, but today, well after mearle beach house in Isla Negra and after fighting with boaters because we saw the faces of jerks and wanted to charge us ten times more for a boat ride across the bay. Yes, after fighting until satiety, F with them, Child C running from actual violence, there, next to water turbulence hitting the dock. When one shouted that denounce Lola for taking advantage of their pockets, not to let out the collective boat cheap. After all these circumstances, we ended up in the other house of Pablito in La Sebastiana. They say it is twenty-five houses in Chile. For me it is an exaggeration. But I shut my mouth. It pays to win laureates, che, no case. Luckily, oh, to die gloriously coincidence!, Despite the sharp turns through the hills, between the heads poking your gums decayed, fortunately, yes, we ended up in the place where we had to meet Nadia and already , in both sickness and go from one side to another, could not remember where it was. Child C said that, at least not in vain, while the courtyard you pees Pablito Foundation as the afternoon the beach in Isla Negra, built and expanded tourist alongside, above and below the original home has almost disappeared. He came not to fart. No. And especially, because Nadia is not Neruda, and thanks to Chile.lé.lé.lé.

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XV. Pablito values \u200b\u200b

El Niño C enters the house of Neruda. As her poetry: beautiful. But it is understood here that the adejtivo is only preaching, never a positive value in itself. Of course. All tourist. Very. Mr. Ambassador, almost president and Nobel Prize or noticed surrounded by breathtaking scenery could be said also and impressionist-belle-lyricist. Island not an island nor black, but beach turquoise, white, blue, pink, green and dark blue only. Every once more confirm the theory. Child C is confirmed. That's pretty easy to write poetry. Mr. no se rodeó de lo que Baudelaire, o Cucurto o Hamsun. Arlt tenía razón: para hacer estilo pulcro y perfecto, hay que tener rentas. Para ser un “gran escritor”, un premio, hay que tener una cuenta bancaria. De lo que se deducen varias consecuencias. Por ejemplo, que quienes siguen buscando o leyendo la literatura por el valor de lo bello, de lo perfecto, de lo lindo o lo ¡ay, qué bien escribe! sostienen una hegemonía axiológica y una división social concreta. De seguir leyendo y escribiendo así, bajo esos valores, sólo podrán escribir literatura los que tengan fortuna y los demás, quedaremos afuera. Por brutos. Por Bestias. Por pobres. Quieran o no reconocerlo, señores, las cosas parece they are true. I can be wrong. Always. But on the surface and bottom, the economic distribution also creates literary value. And here we are. The piece of Neruda's house.