Yesterday I visited the birthplace of Sandino in Nicaragua: Niquinohomo. Yo soy del pueblo que un niño en Niquinohomo soñó. Soy del pueblo de Sandino y Benjamín Zeledón —Yo soy de un pueblo sencillo, by Luis Enrique Mejía Godoy (see the complete lyrics and my translation below) Benjamín Zeledón’s fortress —the political prison We
You were cold I blamed you You were dead I blamed me You looked mute I felt deaf I blamed her Or was I deaf? You were gone No one to blame I was alone With you still there. I went back home And you looked The other way.
Somebody makes a pseudo-stupid joke at my son Quique in the street —something I’ll never understand.
Pablo looks at me with his best “what the hell just happened, did you get it?” and our telepathy fails for a moment, and I have to make do with expressing my thoughts with words, and in front of the kids to boot.
[In English, because this is not for the delicate ears of my Spanish kids]
“Let it be. Just an idiot. Motherfucking drunk.” [In Spanish, because… well, you’ll see]
“Mooooom!” Lucía, my 10 year-old, scolds me “that’s a swear word, I HEARD YOU!”
“Darn. So now you do speak English and you understand it when it’s convenient for you. So I won’t be able to swear even in English, now?”
“You could swear in German. But… well, then when I heard you speaking in German I’d know you’re swearing.”
Lost. We’ve lost here.
Should I compile all the Quique and Lucía stories in a single document? This is a serious question for you as my readers. Do tell me in the comments. I’ve also asked my patrons on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/minibego. If you’re late to the party, it’s a system in which people help me pay for my writing costs, and maybe, someday, for my writing itself. Go have a look. It starts with as little as 1$ a month and it really pushes me to write more.
By the way, we’ve reached the next goal we had, to get 2 pretty ebook covers a year:
The next goal is getting two pretty layouts a year:
It feels like the seed of a new, cool thing growing in my life. I’m really looking forward to see what happens next. 🙂
Lo que me gusta de esta canción es que parece estar protestando, pero está sucumbiendo él mismo mientras canta. Se queja, pero ha caído. Ha hecho una canción bonita, de las que te deja llorando cuando encienden la luz. Nos ha robado. Él es la golfa. Y nosotros. Y nos la hemos tragado toda. Tengo casi
Estoy oficialmente de vacaciones desde hace 5 minutos. San Agosto. No sé si escribiré. O si publicaré lo que escriba. Sé que leeré mucho, que dibujaré, y pasaré largas horas lejos de pantallas. Incluso me llevo libros en papel. Volveré con las pilas recargadas, eso seguro. ¡Mandadme una postal! O dejad un comentario…
—¿Qué te llevarías si salieras corriendo de casa? —le pregunté. Acumulamos cientos, miles de «acasos»: las cosas que acumulamos por si acaso. Miré a mi alrededor y me pregunté cuántos acasos no necesitaríamos jamás y estarían mejor con otras personas. —¿Te imaginas que un día tienes que salir corriendo de casa, porque está ardiendo o algo así? ¿Qué
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