I have somewhat abandoned this blog, but to keep my four readers, here are reading a text on which was published in Rereading . If you want to read further, please click here . If you want to read here, read on. ----------------------------------------------
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The recently traveled
Read to me has always meant a "get out", a "go-for-other-side", a journey to reach hand and a child that has fascinated me. As a child I read and reread a collection of Russian tales and all those who read classics all children, but I remember particularly White Fang, Jack London, because I read on a car trip Maturin Caracas. A trip within a trip. We used to go to Caracas to visit my grandmother every August or Christmas holidays. It was a journey tediosísimo, eight hours in the middle of a warm and wet road. And to not get bored we had food, books, toys, music. I remember how hard it was to read in the curves that are before or after Rio Chico, but still I could not detach myself from White Fang, those dogs pulling sleds, blood in the snow, of friendship. I wept bitter tears for that friendship mixed with the sweat produced by the heat of a road through huge trees, fried, Chicharronero, vines, Araguaney, sales taxes, areperas, chirping crickets and even wildflowers: the "birds of paradise grew (and I still grow) in that part where the road enters a dense and steamy jungle. I was the vaporón to snow in the poor White Fang struggled with other dogs and his orphan. And the snow vaporón which appeared suddenly something interesting in the window or talk to my parents. I think that's the image that the act of reading it to me: a being here and being there, a duality that fascinates me, a living other lives. As anyone who lives in two realities, one who reads your reality ends up polluting the books and vice versa. So, this road was some snow and White Fang looked a lot like dogs "frightened-with-the-plate" in areperas El Corozo. That's an amazing experience and hallucinogenic. Addictive.
Amos Oz says that when we travel we can see and geraniums sills, doors and people from black and fast, but we can not go home. Read, however, is to enter those houses, those rooms, watch what they eat, how they sleep or love or suffer the other. These men in black and fast. These women sills dry, they close the windows to the curiosity of our eyes, shaking the geraniums. Following Oz, I would say that reading is get to where we are denied entry. Travel is to imagine life beyond the eyelashes but reading is truly enter. Yet this does not mean that's not worth traveling: if I get to choose between a plane ticket and a book, needless to say what I choose, what I mean is that reading is a journey into the interior and mystery. The trip completed.
Amos Oz says that when we travel we can see and geraniums sills, doors and people from black and fast, but we can not go home. Read, however, is to enter those houses, those rooms, watch what they eat, how they sleep or love or suffer the other. These men in black and fast. These women sills dry, they close the windows to the curiosity of our eyes, shaking the geraniums. Following Oz, I would say that reading is get to where we are denied entry. Travel is to imagine life beyond the eyelashes but reading is truly enter. Yet this does not mean that's not worth traveling: if I get to choose between a plane ticket and a book, needless to say what I choose, what I mean is that reading is a journey into the interior and mystery. The trip completed.
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