By Bernardo Reyes
passers Faces are like winds that approach or depart the ship from the port of nowhere. But the face of a newborn child is a flag flying at the bottom of a cave impregnable, a breeze breezes exiled from other days and nights, which cools and Wise up to see that light at the end of dark tunnel: an absence and call: the loneliness of the receding shoreline in search of the vastness of its sea. That day
slow-motion face of our child, helpless grin, told us in the unintelligible language of dreams, the homeland of all, far and present, came news that we would have to decipher.
The waiting room of the clinic was almost empty except for a military reversed itself, with no cross word. Radios repeated
sides announcing the curfew, threatening to shoot to kill those who circulate through the streets of Temuco.
Suddenly the midwife announced that I was born David, who has measured do not know how many inches, and that is robust and healthy. And his mother is fine.
Marycruz was empty chrysalis.
lost its blood body seeking the light in those eyes that did not yet know who watched.
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