Valentine My friend just sent me a book. He wrote it and is called "The creation of pink." It takes two, truth, and the best part is that by dint of blows, by dueling with words and get away with, this book is a gift worth celebrating. I read in one sitting. It is a jewel of ninety pages that melts in experiences and battles against dragons, snakes, sons of bitches and other herbs, all profiling with the right touch of the feather that finds its pace to say just what he has to say. Valentín Pérez
With a friendship of years I was warm in the nineties, back in the bars downtown Merida which was sufficient to dock with five hundred boluses of beers while I was a graduate and he was slitting his back as a doctor in hospitals in tatters, without drugs, and tough guys that I had as usual, you put 38 on the forehead to save them the carnal.
are testing. Forty-one tests for which the sap gets out through the pores, that is, jobs that are born of an observation, minimal, timely, accurate observation, which then opens the wings and ends up being a treatise on the experience, the art of living, about how to squeeze the days to extract from them the best and worst, sweet and bitter, which makes finally be here Monday on Monday, means much more than breathing or for hope or a coffee in the morning and nothing else.
Reading it has reconciled me with life, which is saying a lot when in this world, packed who knows where, just the day to day life is less adept. Valentine is a friend, of course, but it is much more than a friend. The den of the avenue four we chose to talk about Dostoyevsky, Orlando Araujo, the Chinese Valera, De La Fuente Stephanie Marcial or women who brought us the head, also served as a witness to a friendship that ended up being brotherhood and here I am, with his latest release in their hands again discovering places and hamlet, people and rabble, sounds, smells and colors, but particular ideas, because this is a book of ideas, of course, you jump on your face and if you do not end up defending the neck sprain, nothing less.
"Nietzsche and the dancer", "Women's cough", "Good Smoke", "Dance with Mary", "Uslar Pietri, a bum and I" or "Man of the queue" are just six proposals six ways from over forty, I said, observing this strange thing we call and package reality in literary texts, each more delicious than the other. The sight of my friend is one who puts words in place and conforms to make you think, no small achievement, mind you, with so many hack basurilla and between both Saturday and Sunday, an issue that I thank not only in terms of literature, cinema, art in general, but in other areas, not less relevant pragmatic.
see, the conclusion is justified. In addition, the University of Los Andes, always endearing in my eyes, has been responsible for editing this book, filled not only good writing but shows excellent taste in choosing the cover, color, paper, font and, finally, hand physically restrained to make a book.
When I talked to Valentine, when, I am reminded of that song did not Sabina-averse or the last cup or the last bar, as he settled the glasses, tipple and then passing the foam off his fist a long-sleeved shirt by mouth, every time he said something really talking about himself, his obsessions, his fears, his childhood, his memories, their longings, which the end of the day made me understand more the place where it was, the Andean earth at that moment was also my home, and that is exactly what I breathe in this work: a way of saying that is open discussion, which is dialogue, which is give and take with jukebox in the background, with guts, a lot of smoke and carat of reasoning. "The creation of Pink" is a book of love that is translated into text to reflect on the man and his remorse, his pleasures, his crushing or indifference. Of love, of course, because it feeds into a principle of affection for the land filled childhood and adulthood after the author, but also the turning point of the implications of an outstretched hand, or a furtive kiss, or a tear amid the bullets mark as it passes through us.
is no doubt, it is worthwhile to read it. Then we kept talking.
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