Latin American Chronicle
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Nobody knows if the urn belongs to the funeral home or the district attorney. The first time I came, I didn’t want to get close. I stayed just outside the grave. The situation was very strange. I felt... -
He is a man, but he could be something else: a catastrophe, a roar, the wind. Sitting in a a low armchair, covered by a wool blanket, he wears a denim shirt, a beige sweater with several holes, cordur... -
A few weeks ago, I read the essay by Isaiah Berlin in which he proposes his famous division between two types of intellectuals. According to the Latvian philosopher, as is well known, there are hedgeh... -
I have a strange relationship with airports. As soon as I set foot in one, I feel a certain urge to go running out of my country; but, at the same time, I get terribly anxious about feeling myself fal... -
After several erratic twists and turns, we find the Casa de hablas.
