Losing the EU one “e” at a Time:

“Madame, you will not be able to board the flight, your COVID test is in German,” the Swiss airline employee told my daughter at the gate in Zurich airport, as she prepared to fly home to London. “Excuse me? It says “Negativ,” just add the “e” and you’ll turn it into English.” “No, Madame, we’re…

Name it

Six men and one woman sit around a large mahogany table at the Colombian Embassy in Brussels. At the head of the table, the Ambassador, a man in his early thirties, smoking and smiling with the other men. The woman looks down at her large belly, she will soon deliver a child. The men’s laughter…

Violeta

Ya nadie mas se sentará en el Eames lounge chair A todos les quedará grande Solo ella, con su mirada ancestral, podía presidir desde allí, observando impávida el ir y venir de vidas agitadas Podría uno confundir su actitud con soberbia Pero no, era la sabiduría de quien está de vuelta de todo y calla…

The Visionary

He said there’d be a bar

He saw the glittering glasses, the single malt whiskey bottles

He probably heard the guests’ laughter

We looked around the room

The clay pot

Letter to my father, Rodrigo Escobar Navia Today, the 6th of November in 2020, you would have turned 86. It is not by chance that I find myself here, in this library, reading Borges. How you loved Borges! So much so that I  scattered your ashes on the grave of the celebrated argentine, in Geneva’s…

Una vasija de barro

Hoy, 6 de noviembre de 2020, cumplirías 86 años. No es fortuito que me encuentre aquí en esta biblioteca leyendo a Borges. Cómo te gustaba Borges! Tanto que esparcí tus cenizas sobre la tumba del célebre argentino en el cimetière des rois en Ginebra.

Mo’ther (mudh-), n. A female parent.

My mother was neither cradle nor lap

She was a sword, an arrow, an argument

Beautiful, sharp, and feline

Neither refuge nor anchor, my mother was a battle

Preferiría ser árbol

Observo impotente el dolor, la violencia, la muerte

Y me digo que preferiría ser árbol

A step at a time

We load the car with your grief and mine

Two suitcases and the guitar

A home called Trudi

Money, power, titles, aesthetics, social class, or eloquence, never impressed her