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232. GABRIEL

"The Beloved" by Dante Gabriel Rossetti 1865-6 (1828-1882)



Gabriel looked sideways at his companion. I had already seen up and down when he went to buy something before boarding the plane that would take him back to Buenos Aires.

While the warmth of her saliva dissolved chocolate bubbles filled with air, he imagined a thousand follies. Even thought he had lost a screw, but then I was sure the nut also had missed his head by that unknown to his imagination who fantasized that he gradually disjointed.


Ella, the girl in the passenger seat, pulled out a calendar and a pen, began to write and delete data. He stretched his neck and eyes to spy eluded him, but she stayed in her own world.


Gabriel, for a moment, felt a chill when he was struck by the image of his wife in front of the dishwasher, back in the kitchen of her apartment in La Recoleta. Made an effort and the image of his wife disappeared among other slides that seemed to stretch on a slide Pictures with the beauty that was on your right.


He concluded that the woman had escaped from a painting by Dante G. Rossetti. Then he fell asleep.

3 º Exercise of Writing workshop Writing Magic

http://tallerlamagiadelaescritura.blogspot.com/2010/02/consigna-n3-relacionar-palabras . html

Marta Alicia Pereyra
Mortars, 03/10/1903

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231. INTERIOR MONOLOGUE

Memories and more memories ... I miss some things that I have to "check" because they were outstanding. Never crossed your mind the meaning of romance ... of course! You were always very earthy! When we were dating gave for granted that what we said would happen with your highbrow and seventies style: "Relationships are bureaucratized over time," What are you talking about? Politiquillo crummy! If you just got married and bureaucratized yourself and nothing to express a feeling ... Neither have felt! "Romanticism? What is esooo? I lasted throughout life, the burning ... Damn! I married thinking it would be a relief for those damn hormones that would not let me in peace ... or feelings ... or the hot blood running through my veins as a woman. I remember your first gift ... never had the panache of a romantic leading man ... Now you lie there, but I always thought that I would be the first to leave ... The first gift: a silver bracelet so heavy and so elaborate that I never used ... You came with shyness give it to me ... A formality to fulfill an obligation, a procedure more than dating. You were never or romantic or anything! So will all of Virgo? A lifetime that was ... what?

2 nd Year Workshop literary magic of writing

Http://tallerlamagiadelaescritura.blogspot.com/2010/02/consigna-n2-el-monologo-interior.html

Marta A. Mortars

Pereyra, 03/10/1903

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TO EROS SUCCIONA


EROS

SUCK YOU were planning on tag obsession, Cirrus
where did you get your hand.

I liked the way you feel,
that slow slip through your skin of frost,
stopping to drink on your curves.

And then slip
quicker, more below ... more violent.

Stop.


Diving in the pool your playground.

That's where winning, you lost the game.

Because you joined the catharsis of the X long, non stop
engine or neutral. I absorbed
compulsion and monotema.

thousand degrees of heat, and permanent, are too

that does not end galling consciousness
and have to write to Phoenix.

.
All rights © Angeles Fernangómez (text and photo)

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231. MY TRIP

feeling I was the Symphony No. 9
of Beethoven (scherzo)

I travel through space in a ship very white and transparent. Appears a monstrous scares me, then walks away. Other beings and stars come to dance, go up and away as the perpetual waves of the sea.



feel the urge to return and see the earth where I feel sheltered and peaceful with the elemental joy to hear the birds singing and frogs croaking after rain.

Workshop 1, Exercise literary magic of writing:

http://tallerlamagiadelaescritura.blogspot.com/2010/02/1-consigna-encontrar- the-rhythm-interno.html

Marta Alicia Pereyra
Mortars, 10/03/1903