“Soy quien soy.
Una coincidencia no menos impensable
que cualquier otra.”
Wislawa Symborska
“I am who I am.
A coincidence no less unthinkable
than any other.”
Wislawa Symborska
Two-minute lives I have lived.I have lived in other peoples’ lives.I have imagined lives.Now I need to relive the most vivid of those lives, to remind myself of how alive I was, trapped as I feel in an old body and a disintegrating society, that limits me to routine actions and trite communica
TREE An astronaut in orbitsees no singular growing things. A body levitatingabove the curve of earthsees the mother of dreams – forests are her hair; they standholding up multitudinous forksto their father sun and smaller woods and pocketssprout on her mound of lovein her armpitsand on her dar
ANCIENT SCENES On the Road The earth is very wide,people few and scattered,and a long road dividesgoodbye from welcome. The barefoot beggar,the poor man with his donkey,merchants on fine horses,trace lines travelingover the face of the earth,and where they crosseyes meet, words lingeron the air, mar
The Yellow Tree is a novel for adolescents, with a matriarchal slant. The story involves two races of people: the Lupaka tribe, who are descended from wolves, and the humans of the city of Kynopolis. The city’s royal clan are hybrids, partly Lupaka and partly human. Kynopolis is an imaginary place
Light is love without attachmentGianfranco Spavieri THE GUARDIAN Her name is Kali and she was born in India. She is now head guardian in one of the biggest remaining cities in the south of the north. She has no peace. Wired to her workstation almost every hour of the day, she has to put down [&helli
ONE DREAM Morning breaks over the jungle,the rising sun dissolves the mists,framing momentary worldsfor someone’s eyes – for Elephanton a height above the trees? for Kiteriding the currents of the dawn?Surely for us. The favoured eyesare ours; we become the dreamer,who sees, when the mist parts,
Queenbitch is a matriarchal figure, a female who believes in the spiritual superiority of her gender and the rightness of sexual freedom. This is part II of her story, a sporadic diary she keeps over the long years at the ‘Navel’, the dog tribe’s city in the forest. Too much of part I, which r
The Dog People For many years of my life I was obsessed with a race of ‘dog people’, and sometimes they still visit me, although I’ve mostly written them out of me. They are not hybrids, but dogs – or maybe wolves – that acquired consciousness at some point in evolution, and bear the same
For many years of my life I was obsessed with a race of ‘dog people’, and sometimes they still visit me, although I’ve mostly written them out of me. They are not hybrids, but dogs – or maybe wolves – that acquired consciousness at some point in evolution, and bear the same relation to can
