A Booksmith Journal

Since the fall of Berlin wall, the world is writing the pages of a new international scenario. Perhaps it may look like an inedit moment in history. Or, perhaps we need to read more history books. Last weekend, France witnessed the largest rally in their history, and that is not a minor detail for a country with such a long history. There is a sense of harmony and unity among the french, and while the unanimous voices are “Je suis Charlie” and “we are not afraid”, the necessary question of the present day should be, “Now what?”. Unlike the common voices that claim that we are not going to stand still, to talk and do nothing, that this is the time for convincing action, we should make the act of listening our priority. Listen to us, listen to them, try to understand who are them. Furthermore, we need to find how much of them we have inside of us. The islamic religion covers a wide spectrum, and it is safe to say that radical extremist is one regrettable part, but not a general represe...

Es necesario impulsar el uso de la bicicleta con educación e infraestructura. Una breve columna.  Los problemas de la concentración urbana no son novedad para nadie. Una ciudad se ha vuelto el hábitat humano más común y a la vez el más abstracto. Todos los días millones de personas viven una vida urbana: compran comida en supermercados, amueblan sus viviendas, cocinan, tiran la basura, viajan en transporte público o en auto, miran películas o televisión. A la vez, la mayoría ignora de dónde llegan las enormes cantidades de alimento que a diario son necesarias, o a dónde termina la basura que arrojamos en un tacho, sobre la frágilidad de las arterias de tránsito o sobre nuestra dependencia de una energía electrica que tampoco sabemos de donde viene. A la par de este movimiento lógistico, todos los días estamos expuestos a las consecuencias de algún tipo de desbarajuste. Pobreza, crimen, embotellamientos, colapsos en los servicios públicos, personas que caen en la marginal...

An interesting think happened to me a couple of weeks ago. I joined a friend of mine who is taking tango classes since the beginning the year. She wanted to share her new passion for dance with me and I am open minded and a bit naïf. I went to this Tango & Milonga party. We were at a cultural centre built an antique "recycled" warehouse. Exposed brick walls, tall ceilings, wooden beans, rustic and appealing. Beautiful place. After the class, while some people danced others mingled and chatted with a glass of wine in their hands. Maybe after the second glass, I accidentally mentioned that I was Argentinian. "Oh! From Buenos Aires! So you must know how to Tango, right? Please! Show us!" exclaimed one of the ladies I was talking to. For me, dancing is an already embarrassing moment. I am clumsy and someone usually ends up hurt because of my lack of coordination. But on top of that, I don´t know how to dance Tango! And I was expected to show them my skills base...

"-What does it mean to recover our identity? The journey of an entire country through the story of a Grandmother and her grandson." (I wrote this on August 5th, Calgary's Airport) I try to stay away the cynical quote which prays that the death of a person is a tragedy, but the death of thousands is just mere statistic. It is a true reaction of the human mind, otherwise it would be impossible to carry with the burden of the many atrocities committed by mankind in their history. But sometimes history works in the opposite way, and just a simple event may recover the lost sense of humanity within us. I am bored, waiting at the airport for the end of an endless layover. But while I browse in my phone the news, I read with great joy that in Buenos Aires (Argentina) Guido was finally found. That He was “recovered”. Guido is the 36-years-old grandson of Estela de Carlotto, who has been looking for him since her daughter was kidnapped and murdered...

Siempre que me pido un cortado, me acuerdo de él y de ella. ---------- Mi Buenos Aires querido, por Juan Gelman Sentado al borde de una silla desfondada, mareado, enfermo, casi vivo, escribo versos previamente llorados por la ciudad donde nací. Hay que atraparlos, también aquí nacieron hijos dulces míos que entre tanto castigo te endulzan bellamente. Hay que aprender a resistir. Ni a irse ni a quedarse, a resistir, aunque es seguro que habrá más penas y olvido.

I am, quite often, very hard on me. There are plenty reasons to believe that most of the times I was right. One of my permanent self accusations goes around the fact that my life is quite an erratic journey. As much as I don't want an office job, the feeling that the horizon remains as misty as five or ten years a ago is a bit frightening. I don't want a predictable shore, but at least I wouldn't mind having a rough idea of where I'm heading. Seems to me that somebody gave me the maps of a different location. And that's me main reason why I have been doing many things over the last decade. Unable to finish or focus completely on any of them, I feel strangely proud of the diversity. I always thought of this as a great story to tell -someday- to my grandchildren. But that inconsistency is a burden. Any person with a heart beating inside desires to live as many lives as possible. While being a restless traveler is an exciting journey, maybe to settle somewhere an...

Mientras me aproximo lentamente a cerrar otro ciclo, de nuevo me viene la incertidumbre que se hace inevitable si paso revista a mi itinerario. La verdad sea dicha: este post estaba comenzado en mayo..  de 2014! Porque parecería que, desde que decidí cambiar de rumbo, no consigo ni mapa ni compás. Ayer por la noche tuve un berrinche desesperado que terminó en sollozo. Creo que es tiempo de retomar este asunto. Qué hacer es fundamentalmente una pregunta, también es un libro que escribió Lenin a principios de siglo XX. Parecería una cuestión menor a veces, pero como bien dice un amigo "a vos te gustaq complicarte mucho las cosas". Hacer, lo que se dice hacer, puedo hacer practicamente cualquier cosa. El problema quizás sea la falta de objetivos claros y definidos. Qué hacer es una pregunta metodológica, indagar en que quiero hacer es una encrucijada ontológica. Entonces el problema está claro, y es francamente patético. Cuando uno no percibe sus propios objetivos en la vida e...