To Cintia, Fran, Tommy and Manu.
Thank you for Accompanying me.
Note from the author: I’d wish to free this story up in the air like a dandelion, the winged feathery seed that appears somewhere in the text. If it comes to you and you like it, please do not let it touch the ground. Please provide it with new wind, multiply this first blow (by sending it to your friends). And if you deem it fit, I’d like to know which airs it has sailed, where it has flown by and also who has allowed it to continue its flight. Since the metaphor is not capricious. Besides its inherent humility, this tale is intended as a literary seed for fertile minds, a humble dandelion obstinate in dancing weightlessly in beauty, a humble winged seed not resigned to crash into the icy soil of insensitivity, of apathy, of neglect. (Address of Gustavo Appignanesi: firstname.lastname@example.org. If you like this story, I can also send you other writings, other literary seeds).
(short story by Gustavo Appignanesi)
An intense lightning illuminated the sharp contour of the small self-launching motor glider plane which, like a furious arrow, was riding the winds of the stormy night sky. Then, the pilot turned off the engine, which was retracted into the fuselage. Thus, the thin white bird of endless wings turned into a weightless glider suited to move effortless and noiseless so as to provide its pilot with a deep feeling of peace. But today, the intense fury of the elements left no place for placidness. Nevertheless, the man was not frightened since his internal tempest was probably larger than the climatic one. And even when he had never flown at night nor under adverse meteorological conditions, this night he had deliberately decided to take off his sophisticated small plane during the storm (under conditions that, more that inadvisable, were practically suicidal). But what he did not know very well was why he was flying: pain, annoyance, sheer madness, a search for answers, a mere suicidal impulse or a mixture of all the reasons mentioned.
For a long time extreme sports had been among the few activities that seemed to give pleasure and color to the life of this executive, principal manager of the headquarters of an important multinational company, a powerful, intelligent and refined man who was leading a materialistic and gray life in which regards the human aspect. But this time he had not been driven to the cabin of his aircraft by a search of adrenaline, pleasure and beauty, but by the furious impulse experimented after the voice in the telephone gave him devastating news: His best friend, who was also his employee, had jumped from the roof of the company’s building. The cold statistics, frequent refuge of impunity, declared that the rate of suicides among the personnel of the company all over the globe had increased after the dismissals and personnel relocations due to the global financial crisis. But this meant nothing to him this time. It meant nothing to have strongly resisted the order to relocate his friend abroad if he ultimately had ended yielding after the Directory’s demand of “him” or “you”. It meant nothing that he could never imagine that his decision would provoke such a terrible ending for his friend.
The glider avoided the storm’s front for a long time, flying under considerable turbulence and low visibility. This prevented the pilot to notice the fact that he was dangerously approaching a very peculiar cloud formation, the fearful cumulonimbus, which extended itself a short distance ahead. Thus, dense clouds of enormous vertical development (rising for some kilometers) appeared suddenly. Conscious of the great danger of facing them, the pilot tried an evasive movement, but the width of the cloudy formation and its proximity made his effort sterile. Thus, aware of his immediate fate from often-heard pilot tales, the man prepared himself to be devoured by the enormous jaws of this titanic natural monster. And now he indeed, for an instant, felt fear. But, what was the value of his life now? Prisoner of pain, he wanted to die. Or rather, he wished not to have been born (he thought the world would have been a better place without his presence). –What’s the meaning of life? Why living without sense, without a real engine, vainly wounding oneself as a glider inside a storm? –he shouted feverishly while entering the voracious thickness, since his flight had also been a search for answers. And, if there was anyone in the Heights, he was waiting for His response. Meanwhile, the aircraft, subject to the unpredictable wills of the storm, jumped madly and changed continuously direction, completely unmanageable even when using the engine. Then, enormous forces broke the wings of the plane as if it were a fragile insect and after a while the injured device reached the heart of the meteorological monster where it became imprisoned by a tremendous ascending current. Thus, as the pilot had expected, the current raised him abruptly for kilometers up to an enormous altitude by first passing through regions of rain and hailstone. And when he was on the verge of becoming unconscious because of the extreme cold and the lack of oxygen, the brutal current ended up ejecting him (still inside of what remained from his ruined plane) abruptly out of the cumulonimbus. Immediately out of hell and in the ephemeral but eternal-like quietude of the point of maximum ascent of his involuntary path, just before the inexorable fall, the half-open eyes of the man faced at one stroke a vision of supreme beauty: That of the sublime night sky, limpid and splashed with silver stars. In front of such a celestial peace, his mind seemed to get clarified and carried him back to such forgotten days of his childhood, when he used to contemplate the stars captivated, astonished. When in a deep humility before the incommensurability of the cosmos, it was impossible to remove his eyes from such a vision and to resist the captivating sensation of love that embodied him. –How far I am from the child I was, that wonderful child who loved the world at every step! How could I have forgotten him? How different everything would have been if I had not lost him on the way! -he thought with enormous intensity and tears in his eyes (tasting the scanty air he could find and while, awaiting death, his eyes were closing and he was falling into unconsciousness) to add: -I wish with all my soul I hadn’t!
Regaining consciousness, the eyes of the executive opened slowly to discover, with calm amazement, that he was lying on a green, peaceful and lonely meadow. There was only one person, sitting next to him: An older man dressed simply in a long white tunic, who was observing him. The man had a rather ordinary appearance, but there was something strange in him. Imperceptibly at sight, but patently to the soul, his figure was radiating peace and beauty. There was certain subtly manifest air of perfection in his gestures, in his movements, which awarded him an evident supernatural, celestial air.
-Where am I? Have I died? Is this Heaven? If so, I believe I don’t deserve it -the executive inquired.
-Too many questions which I’m not allowed to answer completely now -answered the other one-. It was your last desire before dying, such an intense desire, which brought me to your side -he added.
-OK. But, who, or what, are you? –inquired again the amazed executive.
-Another question I definitely cannot answer. Now, as always actually, you must find the answers by yourself –replied the other one smiling to add later on: -Let's say that just as you love extreme sports I also practice an extreme activity, the most extreme activity of all: To observe. I practice the art of seeing.
The executive could not hide a slight smile. -The "art of seeing"? I have never seen it among the extreme sports. Let's agree that it does not seem to be very risky. Anyway, please explain me something: It’s obvious that you are not like me.
-You’re wrong. There’s actually not great spiritual difference between us –answered the other one also with a smile-. It’s only that I live in the conscience of the beauty of the world, of its supreme quality: Its incommensurability. In fact, almost everyone becomes like me at certain instants. Almost everyone manages to touch (with more or less frequency, more or less deeply) the notion of incommensurability. Even many saints and wise persons on earth share a lot with me. The difference is that I constantly, at every instant, live in such a conscience, which allows me to actually "see".
-Well, but what will happen with me now? -the executive asked.
-You do not belong anymore to your former life, to your former world. I cannot give much information. I can only tell you that if you decide it, you can perform the same mission I use to carry out. Neither can I tell you much about it, just that it is probably the most beautiful task, a task of enormous importance to others, but a difficult and demanding one. I would accompany you to help turn yourself able to carry out such a beautiful undertaking.
The executive agreed immediately, without even asking for the alternatives. In particular, the possibility of helping others attracted him; he had already had too much selfishness in his life.
-But, you have not told me yet who you are. Please tell me at least how I should call you -the executive inquired.
-OK, since I will go this way with you, you can call me "Companion" -answered the other one and added: -Well, we will now begin with what I call "visits": We will observe some instants of your materially successful earthly life. The purpose of such visits is to make you ponder the way you have lived and to be able to redeem yourself and to renew your soul. But after each of these visits, you will have to return to the meadow to spend some time (seconds, minutes, hours or days, it will depend on you) contemplating that small clover at your left. I have already told you that the extreme activity I practice is to observe. And to contemplate this clover will be for now on your utmost activity. It will let you know whether you have managed to get ready or not, since it is not enough with the visits. Only spending, annihilating your pupils in green leaflets you will know it. Moreover, as soon as you manage to perceive the supreme incommensurability of this clover, the visits will not be necessary anymore.
Thus, first of all they went to the past on Earth to observe, as immaterial beings, a scene of the executive’s childhood, one of those glorious instants when he was mesmerized by the "incommensurable" night sky (actually the first time he had consciously faced such an indescribable adjective or quality). By observing the immense tenderness of the child he had once been, the executive felt an inexpressible sensation of love for such child together with a sweet and painful nostalgia. He felt his past child as a being of immeasurable beauty, a being who awakened in his soul all the best of him.
-We must return now –said the Companion to instantaneously reappear in the green meadow. The feeling with his own child had been so beautiful that the man wanted to retain it, fruitlessly. On the other hand, the return to the meadow with the clover was not very productive. The man got tired of looking at a weed whose presence he almost came to detest.
-At least I’m happy to be immaterial. My backside would be hurting otherwise. I would even have a callus down there -the man joked.
After that they visited the manager of a company who had been his rival, a very strong competitor whom he had always hated. -This man is like me, empty, materialistic. I have been witness of his dark actions which have caused pain to many people -the executive said. His Companion, nevertheless, ordered him with a gesture to keep silent and to observe. The man they were looking at was inside his house, playing happily with his small children. -This man is relatively so imperfect and in turn relatively so sublime as everyone. You will have to be capable of loving him in order to be able to take your new mission –said the Companion.
The scene of the man with his children was in fact likable. And he had never imagined this man in such a situation, even less in those times when he had had to plan strategies to destroy him professionally. –But even when seeing him playing with his children has shaken my heart, I believe it will be hard for me to be capable of loving him –he thought while they returned to the meadow where he once again fatigued his eyes in green textures, vainly.
At another time they observed how a project of his company had displaced an indigenous community from their lands (and the executive could verify that, even when living in poverty, they lived happier than himself, in full contact with nature and spirituality). In similar tone, the Companion decided to quickly leave the naturals to observe an unknown worker of a factory which belonged to his multinational company and which was located in a marginal place of the world. Being completely free from the physical laws, the Companion told him they would compress a time of five years of work of the employee into a short instant. In turn, by means of a process called "co-inhabiting" (even when immaterial, they could be able to feel with the body of another person) the executive would experiment by himself the emotions, the pain and the physical fatigue of the man. In such way, while rapidly witnessing the period of work of the employee, the years of tedium, of humiliation, of lack of perspectives hurt the executive in his own flesh. But it was the sayings of the Companion which hurt him most: -How incredible it is that all this is equivalent in economical terms to the clock you’re indifferently wearing around your wrist! How many people die every day since they do not posses a few of the coins that others waste or accumulate in mountains! And then, once again, the return to the clover, unavoidable, and fruitless.
The last visit was to a room where there was a man and a woman. They were the executive (while he was a young man) and his girlfriend, that woman whom he would marry and whom he would leave a few years later for a life full of empty fleeting relationships with beautiful young women.
–Ah!, we could not have children while we were together, but I always knew that I shouldn’t have left her, that she was the woman of my life –sighed the man-. I indeed loved her, unlike all the others. The instant that they were attending was their first intimate meeting. Sheltered in his former young arms, the executive saw the woman that had been his wife so beautiful, so tender, so sweet, that he felt an impulse to love her again. He looked at his Companion in the eye and, without need to exchange words, the other one agreed. Thus, co-inhabiting his former body with that one that he had once been, the man re-discovered the deep beauty of loving a woman. The whole experience was one of great depth, to such an extent that when they approached the supreme moment of ascent to the climax, to the fusion, he was assaulted by a deep sensation of love. He felt then his wife in a way he had never done before, he recognized her incommensurably essential beauty. –I had never felt my wife this way -he confessed his Companion with a trembling voice-. I felt her with such depth! And I saw her so incredibly beautiful, so splendid, so celestial! And without being able to stop trembling, he also wondered loudly: -How could I have been able to leave her? How could I have left so many wonderful things in my life: the incredible child I was, my love, my principles, my sense of justice, my solidarity, my spirit ..?
On returning to the celestial meadow after the meeting with the woman, the Companion gave the man an affectionate pat on the back and said to him: -It seems that the "visits" have been effective. You have redeemed yourself. If you were to return today to the earthly life (which anyhow, in the event you feel too much nostalgia, I let you know it is not possible) I’m sure you’d do it as a good man, a just and generous man. In addition, I’m very happy that in some visits, as in front of yourself as a child or with your wife, you have been able to look transcendently and thus, to glimpse, to taste the incommensurability.
-Am I ready for the mission, then? –the man asked his Companion.
-No. It is not enough just to be a good man who from time to time is capable of "seeing". I’m afraid you still lack the main feature. You must become actually wise. And you have not yet advanced with the clover. If you had done it, achieving a deep conscience of the incommensurability, then the faculty to be good, just and generous would have come in addition -the Companion sentenced.
-You’re right. Unfortunately I could not progress with the clover even when I have observed it so carefully that I could be able to describe every little detail of its stem and its leaves with infinite precision. I have devoted a lot of effort to contemplate it, but it is useless, I don’t know what I’m asked to see -the man answered.
-The key is simple: Just to contemplate it in the most open, full and deep way. I cannot tell you what to see. And if I could, it would be worthless since we are speaking of something that is nontransferable. Thus, I think my task with you is fulfilled. The rest depends on you. Certainly, I would be very happy if you found and chose the mission I’ve already mentioned to you. But of course, you can also resign. There is no problem in doing it since, as always, the ways are multiple and all of them can be beautiful and equivalent. In any case, please remember that I fully trust you.
Then, the Companion disappeared and the executive remained alone in the meadow close to the clover. And he continued contemplating it since he was determined not to disappoint the expectations of his Companion and the confidence he had endowed him with. Thus he continued spending a long time, whose extension he could not clearly specify (it had been several days?), devoting himself with obstinate passion to the singular task. But it was useless: the clover only managed to upset him. Nevertheless, the passionate zeal of the man in spite of the sterility of his tremendous effort, touched the Companion deeply, who returned by his side. –I’m very happy you are being so perseverant -he said to him-. You could have simply given up quickly, but you didn’t. I think your problem is that you "want to see". You should just look freely, without searching, by allowing. Do not expect anything magical to happen, please just observe.
-I’m very sorry to disappoint you, but I feel I can’t. Maybe I’m not suited for the mission. I’ll continue trying, but please stay a little more by my side as I do it. But don’t expect much. I think I should need to have your mind, your spirit in order to succeed.
-Oh, if that’s all, there’s no problem then -answered the Companion-. You can co-inhabit my mind for a few instants, if you wish. My mind will be completely empty but maybe it will boost yours. Then, the Companion sat down next to the man, holding with his right hand the other man’s left hand. At first, the executive did not notice any change. But then, he was optimistic about succeeding with his Companion’s help even when the obstinate clover would refuse to leave the condition of vulgar weed. This way, resting his confidence in his Companion, he did not look for anything special to happen, and feeling relaxed he surrendered to be swept by the moment. He allowed the clover to be a simple clover and allowed himself to feel it like that, in isolation from the world as if the simple weed were the only thing that existed. And finally, after an indeterminately large time and at the verge of exhaustion, it happened: The clover returned the man a wonderful vision. He could not say that it was much different from the weed previously seen so many times. But he became aware of an inexpressible beauty in it. He felt that the clover was radiating beauty, peace. And, along with it, he felt as if time and space had expanded, acquiring a tremendous density, transforming into "Here and Now", the “Whole” fusing with the part. He felt as if time had stopped at the Present (that for the first time it stopped to be ephemeral to get eternal) in a quietude that was not inactivity but rather, the most complete flow. Since the man felt the Universe to beat in the tiny clover. And thus, he was flooded by a deep sensation of love for this once vulgar and insignificant weed, a sensation he had never experienced before, fusing himself with the clover and with the common foundation of every thing that exists.
The Companion then embraced the man with joy. -I have always trusted you -he said to him with sweet happiness. You have managed to “see". It was not a matter of the clover. I could have asked you to observe any other thing, since "what" is irrelevant in front of "how". Everything in the world, every little thing, is imbued with a supreme quality: it’s incommensurable. And if the world possesses such a beauty, why don’t we then look at it in the utter humility, enabling it to enrich ourselves?, why don’t we look at it in the greatest freedom so as to give it the room it needs to fully express itself?, why don’t we look at it with the greatest sensibility so as to drink from it as much as we can? All in all in front of an incommensurable world, why don’t we love it? Since the lover's condition (the culmination of the art of seeing, the transcendent way of looking) is the only possible way of relating to the world after the above mentioned conscience. And such way of connection is born simply, without effort, naturally. After the conscience of the incommensurability of the world, it is impossible not to be revolutionized by it, one cannot stop feeling oneself part of everything. And then, this last feeling is not a mere rational construction but something we seize in depth. Think of what would happen in a world where people lived that way, where people related in that way to Nature, to every thing, to every person, in short, to the Neighbor. Since the noun "Neighbor" is not casual and, actually, more than a noun it is an adjective, a quality. Neighbor (“Prójimo” in Spanish, which comes from the Latin word “Proximus” and which means “close”), tries to indicate that the other one is fully close. And there is nothing closer than what is our own. To feel our Neighbor implies then to see him part of us as well as to see ourselves as part of him, in summary, to recognize and to love our common essence.
-I am so happy to hear this! But I do not feel prepared for the mission yet. Remember that I had not achieved it without co-inhabiting your mind.
-Please don’t take me wrong -the Companion told him without hiding a smile-. You idealize me too much, but nothing prevents me from being a bit mischievous. In fact, I had kept my mind completely suspended all the time. The co-inhabiting of my mind was a mere spiritual placebo.
-Then, you mean I’m ready?
-In a certain way. You’re already a suitable soul now. In order to be completely ready you must discover your mission by yourself, I cannot tell it to you. It’s a choice that must come naturally and voluntarily from your own soul. Thus, you will continue wandering around the world for some time, my friend.
Thus, the man continued traveling aimlessly around the world as an immaterial being, but now living its incommensurability at each step, drinking its beauty, getting drunk of splendor. He had not discovered his mission yet, but this was not afflicting him. Rather, he was grateful for his new condition. Until one day, while lying on the grass in a public park with the incredible celestial vault flooding with magnificence his eyes, a singular event happened. The man was contemplating the beauty of the clouds in their almost imperceptible dance, clouds such as the ones he remembered to have happily caressed in his aviator times, when a dandelion appeared floating placidly over his face with a grace similar to that of his glider, plenty of smoothness. The winged seed, like a feather of the purest white, was drawing graceful curves as if its movement tried to rival the perfection of it silhouette against the most beautiful orange light of the lukewarm evening sun. It was flying here and there without course, effortless, like sublime metaphor of peace. The people passed by its side in a hurry, ignoring it, providing it turbulent impulses by the air displaced by their bodies but without paying the minimal attention to its presence. Then, the winged vegetable feather returned to pass just a couple of meters over the reclined observer, moving first towards his head to then begin to fly away. The pupils of the man then ascended slowly in his eyes in order to follow the path of the cottony dancer while at once they crashed with a couple of limpid, tender, eager eyes which, similarly captivated, were also tied to the caprices of the tiny dandelion. They were the eyes of a child, for whom the winged seed also seemed to constitute the full universe in such moment. And then the man recognized his own eyes and his companion’s by looking at those of the child. Only children have eyes like that -the man thought to continue thinking:- Almost everybody has once cut a dandelion weed and blown it to spread in the air hundreds of tiny feathery flying seeds, or has observed this so common image (in general, carried out by a child). But children observe it, feel it, in a way completely different from that of adults (though most adults are not aware of this difference in the way of looking). Children are capable of amazing themselves with things most people would consider as trivial, provided that they underestimate nothing, conscious that the incommensurability dwells even in the, a priori, humblest corner of the world. Since children look in a full, complete way, they do it with a moving devotion, they do not simply look, they "see", they commune with the incommensurability. Men should learn from the children how to look, every day, at every step –he kept on thinking. And observing the child of the park who was still absorbed by the winged marvel, the man, with tears in his eyes, concluded his intense thought: -If I could, I would do anything possible, little boy, anything possible to help you preserve this way of seeing for ever! At such moment, the Companion appeared again by his side.
-Congratulations! How happy I am that you have finally found your mission, your destiny –he said to the man-. This was precisely the beautiful mission I had told you before, the same mission that I have carried out for very long time.
-But ..., I don’t understand. What is it that I must do, then?
-People don’t know us. Only a few have glimpsed our presence and have called us with names like "Companions", or "Guardian Angels". But such is only a cartoon, since they ignore our beautiful and paramount task. This consists in accompanying the children for them to remember their way of looking. They neither see us nor listen to us, but they feel us with their souls, listening to our suggestion of remembering the beauty, the incommensurability. We struggle for the conscience of such sublime quality of the world to last for as long as possible in their hearts and in their everyday acts. What we actually guard, what we earnestly take care of, is their way of looking. Our aim is to prevent its contamination so that it remains pure and complete. But one day, every time earlier, they forget us (that is to say, they do not listen to us any more) and with deep sorrow we lose any contact with them. Only during ephemeral instants when the grown up child, or even the adult, is again able to briefly grasp the above mentioned conscience, we manage to restart a minimal connection, though completely fleeting. Hopefully some day we’ll be able to keep the child alive forever so that men will continue to feel through their inner child. Think of how different the earthly world would be! But, as I said to you, every time it is more difficult. You yourself were a child for quite a long time, a very intelligent child, an incredible, wonderful child, a child who seemed to be able to preserve his candor forever. However, at some point in time your intelligence started to focus only on the search for success instead of wisdom and thus, you quickly forgot how to look. Indeed, during that last instant in the glider you summoned me through an intense thought similar to this recent one, but my boy –concluded the Companion sighing deeply-, you had forgotten me many decades ago.
Below we give some details of “Terra Incommensurabile”, a novel by Gustavo Appignanesi, ed. El Aleph, Buenos Aires (which can be found, only in Spanish, in http://www.elaleph.com, more precisely in: http://www.elaleph.com/libros.cfm?item=402282&style=editorial ).
Terra Incommensurabile (Abstract)
Immersed in the dramatic ages of the Spanish conquest of
America and of the birth of the new nations, a mathematician is captivated by a fabulous enigma born from an Italian, an indian princess and their singular children (the incredibly beautiful always-girl, the magician-priest and the lover-warrior). Therefore, Terra Incommensurabile could be a trip of adventures that along three generations takes us from the fascinating
America of the Spanish conquest towards the refined European universities and the colorful Parisian brothels, to come back again to the magic Andean summits. Nevertheless, the deep circularity of such trip is even more metaphorical than literal. And Terra Incommensurabile invites us to go beyond the metaphor in a trip across a much more complex and fascinating geography, along an enormous and timeless land: That of the human soul and of the attribute which shares with every little thing that exists: Its inherent incommensurability. And in so doing, it reveals us the tremendous beauty and potential that the attention to such a sublime quality has for our life. (Available in http: // www.elaleph.com/, more precisely in http://www.elaleph.com/libros.cfm? Item=402282*style=editorial
Incommensurability: Borges (Jorge Luis Borges, argentine writer, 1899-1986) concludes in “La esfera de Pascal” (“Pascal’s sphere”, in “Otras Inquisiciones”, 1952), with such surgical precision of his way of saying: “probably the universal history is the history of the diverse intonation of some metaphors”. Since from the ancient
Greece it has been repeated that God is a Sphere whose center is everywhere and whose circumference is nowhere. On the above mentioned metaphor of a ubiquitous Center that gives sense to His infinite manifestations, there rest different visions of the world and attitudes towards life (western, oriental and indigenous, religious and nonreligious). Thus, the beautiful Christian mandate requests: Love your Neighbor, since Christ is within your Neighbor; Love the world because the Creator is (lives) in every portion of His Creation. In this regard, it gets transcendent to emphasize explicitly the fact that the above mentioned metaphor alludes to a supreme quality of the world: its incommensurability. Nevertheless, today is also paramount to notice a crucial detail: That we have remained in the metaphor without clearly conceiving that it is fundamental to focus on the need of going beyond it (to transcend it), of living through such a conscience instead of merely feeling it as a rational belief. Thus, if the world is incommensurable (endowed with enormous beauty and richness) it is evident that the only attitude that fits in before it is the one born form humility, from freedom, from sensibility, in short, the lover's condition: how shouldn’t we love that which is incommensurable? In this sense, if we dare allow ourselves to glimpse the incommensurability of the world (without underestimating it, in a full devotion as supreme faith, as intimate confidence) it will revolutionize us deeply. For instance, the above mentioned attitude is capable of naturally mutating the web of hate that today dominates the relations between persons. The neighbor (even when he does not recognize himself not even exhibits himself in such a way) is incommensurably richer than the gray individual molded by his circumstances (the main difference from a wise/saint person, is that the latter has been able to go beyond his circumstances and thus to surface his essence). Thus, why should we be so alert to his peel instead of respecting (that is to say, instead of loving) his indescribable essence, his potential, his incommensurability? This is the conception that subtly but obstinately will underlie the adventurous trip of the mathematician Ignacio de Villamayor. A trip along the lines of Piero di Capri's refined pen, a trip along the European and American geographies framed by the dramatic human and cultural shock of the Spanish conquest, a trip that also represents a voyage of self-discovery.
All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Gustavo Appignanesi.
Published on e-Stories.org on 02/17/2010.