Chronicle
IN "THE PINK 'FOR PRESERVING THE FIELD YET TRUJILLO SOLOMON'S INFINITE
(MEDITATIONS ON THE WALL CONÓMETRO)
By Armando Arteaga
Salmon, the fish physostomous who lives at sea, but in autumn, up to the mountains for the rivers to spawn, swimming against the tide: sometimes it is taken account as a true example of men dreamers that go against the swing of life, contradicting. Contradicts the mediocrity of life, to make better, more dynamic, more just, or even more beautiful.
oboes chanting to return to the past is not just a matter of nostalgia. Several months ago, we met three writers piuranos to "swim upstream" to return to Piura, to talk about poetry and have a good few days of relaxation (the literary work) and talking about literature. We went to Trujillo, José Enrique Briceño Berrú returning from Milan and I who wandered between northern and southern Lima Piura, in the end: July and August are cold months, and is a good sign, more homey, small return home.
first thing we did, Jose Enrique and me is to go to Trujillo, cigar and stubborn, to meet with Juan Felix Cortes Espinosa, who lives more than four decades in the city of eternal spring. Our first visit on this trip.
José Enrique Briceño had studied at the city Estete medallion, watched with admiration the streets, as infinite number of times we went to the Plaza de Armas and sat on some of its seats in the sun, to keep talking. There I studied, I said. Looking toward the front of the house of the old University of Trujillo, where he also studied Vallejo. The side of the Lux Optics lived a girl who was platonic love, Mataperros young student. "Trust in the telescope, not the eye," he replied.
Trujillo Juan Felix loves, as much as Sullana, or Chiclayo, Piura or or Loja, or Quito or Cuenca, Guayaquil or ..., as it has spent the last four decades traveling and visiting these cities has begun great friendship with many writers in this part of northern South America.
Juan Felix knows the current Trujillo - flooded with new immigrants postmodern, as the palm of your hand. In Trujillo, Mondays are the chamber, but the rest of the other days of the week are free for Huanchaco ceviche, or green tamales Moche, or "dry Kid" to the northern food in any restaurant creole of its historical center. Here we go in the same, talking, free, always happy to talk about literature and poetry.
My turn now old days. Etcetera. Suddenly in front of "The Pink", the old coffee Pizarro Street painted pink façade, which is now pedestrian only lies ahead. Invites us your coffee or Canchaque Jaén. The boy is a young ayavaquino very attentive. Here are their olives, buttery cheeses, hams, loaves of their village. The time has stopped. I returned to my childhood, there was taking lunch in the afternoon with my aunt Luzmila Urquizo. The mirrors look the same as always waiting for the new Narciso pm.
I look in the mirror, yesterday afternoon I looked in the mirror .... The mirror has hooks for hats. Straw hats scarf or using the old cloth as my childhood. It seems that time has passed. Back to reality after greeting the owner of "The Rose." The lady (who is the daughter of founding owner) tells me that celebrates 64 years now. In the pink wall of the room "The Rose" is proudly displayed a chart showing the poster of the golden jubilee of the coffee bar lounge "Pink."
Everything is perfectly placed for the return of its prodigal sons. Steps "err" are pilgrims in this world pilgrim. Fittings free of the great horses of the knights of the world are always gold and silver. Still, the hardware will wear out, and remain as testimonies of walking, what jogged. Wild horses of the night when it begins to sleep through the city of Trujillo, are unknown passersby, which are shot without the exact address as vectors scattered by the various city streets again.
Trujillo, poets, Truth Hurts: Vallejo, Orrego, Spelucín, knights of the past turned around the corner from the old library Gihon, the juice bar San Agustin, El Recreo, but in truth was a child myself (But now man the station the homeless) to go through the same street as usual, among strange people, for this street to the Pool of Carmen.
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