In the Air Is Clear by Carlos Fuentes (rereading after more than twenty years - an unexpected and colorful) everything looks like a cubist painting huge, fragmented, slippery , Mexico City and could be in the fifties. The talks, the characters (which included everything from old revolutionaries, bankers, social climbers, Indians, European immigrants, people from earning a living, old aristocrats of porfiriato come down, etc. Etc. Etc.), All form a "moving map", a huge sheaf rooted in the ancient grid DFin dribs and well-heeled, well-heeled looking varnish know ... one possible reading of the Air is Clear
could be done, mutatis mutandis, from Bogota today without excessive changes. But on the other hand there are very specific aspects of Mexico, transferred to other locations: the brutal presence of the Revolution (great description of the generation who made the Revolution were enriched and created the class of bankers and contractors of the Mexico of 50 - still feeling very loyal to the Revolution), the rigidity of the PRI, the connection to Tenochtitlan que still vibrates when you go through the socket or the Temple, the ritual that still lives in a flea market where a street is to knead the corn tortilla, etc. etc. etc. Catch similar crucible (the space-based gang ritual that is ancient Grid City, with its old canals today axes, Juárez, Cuauhtémoc, Chapultepec, Reforma, Insurgentes, Churubusco, Álvaro Obregón Lazaro Cardenas, Tlalpan, San Juan de Letran, Tacuba, Cinco de Mayo, Madero, ...) in a brief description is necessarily reductive - like trying to describe in few words a whole world. There are however conversation fragments securThere is incredible courtesy of a servant or a child who sells the same day emmerdeurs, because next to the crust of pus in which we live there are people, ça va sans dire, increí probably disoriented and sweet and loving and true ingenuity have not even evil to think they are trampled, comme la puce, hein?, and exploited, because under this leprosy Americanized and cheap is a raw, old man, most live meat in the world, the most authentic in his love and his hatred and sorrows and joys. Nothing more. C'est pour CA, mon vieux. Because with them it feels at peace ... and there in what we, estto the best of what you think is better, but not the best of what you think is the worst. Ça va? Rodrigo
remained a moment with eyes lost in the bottom of the empty bottle. Are not you meant the same thing Ixca Natasha: choose, choose your world and not give over his face to the cities of salt? He looked up, "Paul Gauguin in cross again? "Again the pursuit of the noble savage and the local color and primitive innocence, now among the Totonac shoeshine and cooks descended from the mountains of Puebla?
"Maybe, my friend. At least to us is always this: the possibility of s'enfuir, dand seek là-bas, El Dorado outside our continent. But you? You do not, mon vieux, you do not have their là-bas, are already there, already at its limit. And he must choose, vero? "Natasha smiled a warm explosion ...
extract more transparent region
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