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Biography of Diana Viveros

Diana Pictured with his brother Javier, also a writer Purete

Diana Viveros ( Asunción, 1981). Published ten stories gathered under the title "Café Kafka" in 2006 (Jakembó Publishers). Participated in the story collection "Annals urban" in 2007 (Arandura Editorial). With his brother Javier launched in 2008, "Engineering of insomnia," a book of stories (Jakembó Editors), and "The fifteen of the child" cartonero formats (Editorial Boat Drunk).

email: dianaviveros@gmail.com

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A long way, story of Diana Viveros

many cases, how many things

filled childhoods. José Saramago

I

Spring runs from September 21 to December 20. It is the most beautiful season. The flowers open and people are dressed in light clothes and showy. There are many colors in the spring, everywhere ...

* * *

Feo like Socrates, with a pronounced bald a little bright, flat nose and covered in pimples, small eyes necessarily disappear with lips curve expressing happiness or sarcasm or malice, because the volume of greasy cheeks that, contrary to the belly fat that his flesh bent toward the floor, rose with an effort to completely cover the part after dark circles , the new boyfriend of the mother of Sebastian came before him, encouraged by a flurry absurd. The child, through their Early in season thick myopic glasses, stared at him, did not expect that of her mother who both had spoken for some time turned out to be a figure in his view so picturesque and demonstrating such fervor to shake hands and to keep that gesture by several seconds that the three, each in his heart, ended considered excessive.

- How is the champion? The tiger in the house! - Don Oscar said, vigorously stirring the hair of schoolchildren, who for all flat response, gave him a smile with his eyes crouched retracted.

- Seba prepared houses - heating the mother said, while inviting the visitor to be seated in the spacious room.

- Ah, do not forget that I bring a gift to the baby! - Muttered Don Oscar, with the left palm on the side of the mouth, near the ear of the woman. This, I already knew what it was, played with a pleading look that hinted that the gift was not going to be pleasing to the child.

- Dear, you should not have bothered you, seriously ...

She articulated these words in haste and nervous gestures. Seconds later, he added:

- Better let you return to your room because it is doing homework for tomorrow, right, and Sheba? I'll bring the jug and glasses. Ugh! The weather ...! - And fanned his face with his fingers. Almost

pushed, Teresa took the child from the room, dragging her wheelchair into the bedroom. Don Oscar did not quite understand why he could not give the precious gift to the tiger's home. If it was a matter of going through it until your vehicle.

- But ... So what do I do with the ball then? - He asked himself, confused, regardless of the embarrassment that his partner had just saved.

II

The birds sing all happy and celebrating his return. I like spring because I can eat ice cream and cake, cold in winter are not selling because nobody buys them and not business. But in the spring itself, because the sun makes us sweat when we ride we crave chocolate raspberry ice cream or vanilla cakes ...

* * *

With this, the fifth potential was added Sebastian's stepfather since the true father fled a decade ago when it still fed on breast milk.

The first came during the morning, stayed for a while and came out like, without saying a word aloud, walking on tiptoe, as would a spirit night or a stealthy cat . Sebastian, always fragile victim of a dream, he remembered quite well, for he admired its mystery and wrap up he felt that his own mother also became pen during visits silent. Sometimes he was tempted by the idea out of his room to hide and find out who it was, but never dared. A secret game has its rules and we must respect them even if one is fearful for the curious. What mattered was that Teresa was getting ready and dressed as if time had postponed her work of inevitable decline. Well liked Sebastian, seeing go to the salon or by filling the house with her laughter so exciting. Smoke That man would have been ideal, but definitely eventually vanish after a period of delicate seduction. The mother went out and stayed away for a few weeks. Cried a lot, Sebastian was with her. The early morning resumed their usual empty and only were heard, often, the howling of dogs and the steps of a lost hiker in the streets, under the yellow moon.

The other suitor was Rafael, coarse and robust. To him that the boy himself came to see and treat him and knew the power of his fists annoying do. Teresa also, so I complained and sent him to prison and had to move from neighborhood to avoid reprisals, after the striker completed the sentence. The hell lasted half a year, sponsored by alcohol and jealousy. Yes, because Rafael was extremely jealous and would not allow their women to wear makeup or go out without your consent. Only work let her go because someone had to bring bread to the table and get more alcohol how to appease the fury of his inner demons. A crucial weekend, rain, the subject gave the new address of his former partner. This paled when she saw him cross the threshold, with the same force as before, with more madness in his eyes Cinderella. Raphael took them Sebastian vehemently dragged to a car which had locks up and disappeared. Managed with uncertainty until he began to suspect that a policeman was following the track. Accelerated without limit, ignoring the end of his mindless vengeance. He saw the truck wrapped in fog and parked on the road and died there, with the rust and glass embedded in his skull and the rest of their body mass. A miracle saved him from Sebastian, but his spine was shattered. Would never walk again. Cried a lot, his mother accompanied him.

Then there was Carlos, an official of the Treasury. She was curled up, puzzled at all hours for something that nobody knew exactly what it was and seemed to suffer from anorexia, so thin she looked in his starched shirt and checkered tie eternal. Office had a reputation for voracious reader, so that Teresa, the accountant of the same entity, was attracted by the flame ground that was going on around him. With Sebastian wonderfully well understood and had read some fascinating books like The Canterville Ghost or Juan Salvador Gaviota , also had an exquisite musical training, but the apprentice was reluctant to listen to opera or jazz . Teresa had with Carlos a long romance that probably would have ended in marriage if her sister Alicia had not returned to study in Buenos Aires. And unscrupulous coquette, the prudish and Carlos were for her a challenge. And he was very innocent, almost idiot. And pulling the floor its enormous intellectual and rent glasses with their long nails neat shirt, Alicia went to bed. And again Teresa touched mourn over and Sebastian, a little annoyed already with her in her distress.

The last candidate of his mother, after flatly cut all ties with Aunt Alice, was named Darius. He lived with them just over a year and he had sincere appreciation to Sebastian. Together they spent idle hours watching movies watching TV or playing checkers. Teresa seemed to return to the calm with that beardless under his roof, he knew he was still in puberty when he left the field in search of fortune, on the way to Asuncion. She met him at a restaurant cleaning glasses and took it home with confidence and installed it there. Was happy with him, as he had never been before and therefore generous fees paid profession. Darius was received later and proudly showed him his wife obtained the diploma, and scattered kisses on the skin of it and her hair flew in the air, while it lasted the voluptuous embrace. But one night, without warning, she took her things and left. In his hurried trip, had the opportunity to take with him the beloved pet of Sebastian, a rabbit who will serve as a centerpiece in the fictional family would feast, beyond en el pueblo, cuando lo vieran regresar de la capital, maduro y con un título que le permitiría sacar adelante a sus numerosos hermanitos. Teresa, nuevamente, quedó en desamparo, ahogada en una profunda lágrima que cavaba meandros en su semblante. Sebastián, sin embargo, indolente, sombrío, comenzaba a andar por el largo camino que, a su tierna edad, conduce al odio.

III

Me gusta mucho esta época no sólo porque la naturaleza renace, como se dice, sino también porque entonces podemos ir al parque y ya no hay problema con que el pasto esté mojado o peligro de que venga un señor y pida una currency because they are hungry ...

* * *

Don Oscar owned a fabric store. Luenga widower of data, the company of that bet thirty-something female Aprils he imagined an oasis in the vast, dark desert. Began to frequent a few weeks ago, when he was encouraged to fence the client with sweet words and intentions firm. It was believed the world happier for having the affection of Teresa, who did not hide their bad experiences in the difficult art of love, so that their values \u200b\u200bwere judged of high quality by the widower, and that in addition to the charms visible that held the accountant, the cornerstone of warm wishes, I decorated the frankness and other meritorious virtues.

For its part, also Teresa came to feel affection for that merchant that look as eccentric. He was surprised his spontaneity and his diligent and lively chat. Again, I was in love. What your heart's ability to overcome the agony and give encouragement to new illusions! And hoping that Oscar does not fail. He enjoyed a status as loose and touched the sixties, Sebastian treat status grandson, best of all in the family hierarchy, perhaps even to cover a treatment could abroad to reverse the diagnosis that the hospital was sentenced to a wheelchair. Yes, it should behave selfish this time, and her son, who had suffered even more than her because of the different men in her life.

The evening twilight was painting. A talk messy and distracting innocent caresses the brand partner. No more houses jar for some time and when they decided to move under the pergola in the courtyard to witness the birth of Venus, as two teenagers huddled in puerile passion, felt the pangs in the stomach, both in unison. Then the vertigo invaded and view them failed. The heart rate was increasing and they pressed the chest. The stitches in the stomach followed one after another, were growing, but amid the despair, those who suffered were unable to issue any complaint, they could not stop pushing with their hands over the area of \u200b\u200bpain and both were thrown the floor, helpless. Breathing became difficult, almost the lungs stopped working. The pulse is soothed. The headache came on suddenly quickened pulses precipitously on each side of the forehead and after a while, all came to nothing.

meantime, busy in his creative writing, Sebastian trusted that the ant venom poured into large dose in the juice of honey would be effective to give a final warning to his mother and a warning to the love of it, for if he could overcome. Darius had seen a movie where the protagonist did something similar. Rafael learned to act without fear of what might happen. With Charles and his reading discovered that suffering is part of the task of forming a human, as the pain redeems. From that first on the list, the invisible, the ethereal, rescued discretion.

* * *

In the spring people not to ask you about silver, it gives you a lot of smile and attending parties and dance until your feet get tired, but feel sad with that, and that at night you see people going to dance again. People are well! So I'm also very happy with the arrival of spring.

End

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Release of 5 books of Barcoborracho cartoneros


Publishing Launches The editorial Barcoborraho 5 books of five narrators Paraguayan handmade edition, Friday August 22 at 20:30 pm in the SPP local (948 Herrera v. United States).

The five books presented are: The culeada and other stories Humberto Bas;'s quince girls, Diana Viveros; Dog offspring Bogado Cristino, Two stories, Javier Viveros, and Falsetto, Roman Ever.

presentation will be made by the following writers: Giselle Caputo, Carlos Bazzano, Cristino Ever Bogado and Roman, who will refer to the work of writers. There will be wine to taste better the performance. The editorial Barcoborracho

Publishing is based in Buenos Aires since 2007 and is responsible for disseminating literature in neighboring Paraguay, as well as Bolivian authors, three borders, Chaco, Neuquen and remote regions such as publishing centers to have scope for a greater audience.

Friday night you can purchase copies of the authors quoted a price of only 10 000 Guarani, as well as instruct upcoming issues.

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Elvio Romero, Javier and Diana

We, the unspeakable - Elvio Romero


I
We were nameless and,
the outcasts of the glebe,
those who just had a name,
poor live in the land, the

bitter signal carrying a punishment for dark circles,
the planting on foreign soil,
clothes outside the dress, which were
in passing
half blood between the stones,
the ignored people,
the contempt and insults,
Who let the evening
animals and bonfires. We were

and unspeakable,
poor and ragged children
who were called by a whistle,
or a gesture, or just half of the name;
who could live under the rain and wind and
Frost, barefoot, and at night cold and cruel neglect, and have

ague and envy the brave
and stone lanterns hanging from the slums, or dying
elderly die
of ephemeral illusion, blown from below.
We could follow the railway

like the path to the extent of our desires

- bright or obscured by distance and time -
urinating in the gutter at dusk and have burning
harsh and haughty gesture. We dreamed


vast lakes and cabins in the midst of deep forests,
dreamed bandits besieged in
gates and could fall, cross-shells, with joy on their horses
breathless, fast-paced and crazy!



II and
We were nameless, poor
men on earth, those red lips

by stones or by violence,
face the hard and dry, the bold
in quarrels,
those who held on his chest and resistance
sunflowers,
flashes in front
uprisings in the language, who let loose by

night animals and bonfires. Life

ours, dark
to know all the famines,
and trails of the rain and the landscape,
of the gales that bend in the stem
burning naps fine of mandiocales;
knew delirious embarrassment summer in the coconut,
animals licked the stick of the blind and
snakes and wild flowers.

roads knew of the workshops and fields,
of the mysterious plants on the edge of the marshes,
sticky sweat of the workers in the rumor noon
handkerchief embroidered by hand hungering for virgin girls;
outsiders knew the brands of the cards in port
the strange silence of insurance and violent men. Perhaps we discovered


as he lay on the shock of our dreams, the desire rebellious
steel
hidden in the waist of the brave who died singing, music
orange groves, the murmur that sounds like rain inside,
scar the pawns
indecipherable had stories about the dark at midnight. We learned songs


of haughty independence, we played guitars
whose deep secret was secret
of the cautious and saddened,
learned the words to intimidate with his audacity and fury
as the glory of the hymns warriors wore the chest
yellow leopard naked hot funds
of forests and quaking.

knew
plantations and land kissed by the Seven Sisters,
which saved us the most barbarous crops, which
warm blood left in the sponge squeezed and pressed
our brown skin;
knew the brightness vengeful machetes
still resting the knees which broke suddenly from the mountains
wet and angry, huge and grim, and virility decent
and lewd regions of tortured silence and
ring of fire of the summer.


III

We were made of red earth and words
street,
of basic dough and wood
primitive, early bird

hardened burnt in the dust storms,
to pull himself up on the weather,
up early in the capueras ,
born and, as they say,
poor harvest time,
on roads broken by misfortunes and complaints
,
overshadowed by drooping gesture,
by a target of violence.

And we were and the unspeakable,
the poor children of the earth. Life
ours, dark
to know all the famines,
having heard his breath waiting for endless days,
the sad tears of rain on the plains, have tried

sip bitter misfortune. And one day we realized

downwind of the muscles that are roasted
the wild side of a rising sun.
We, the slaves always
men stare as the curve of the river downspouts
those bare feet wide as the leaves of the tobacco,
captured by the blows, attached to the walls charred
the extent of the estates hellish thick, which made
children as spitting air, which led

the chest burned the crops and tattoos

suddenly realized the relentless desire of our throats, there was no miracle
comparable to the miracle of our powerful hands.
Everything took on a predominant color, passion
rose and the mystery cleared, rivers
up early on the assumption of healthy glow,
way of shortening the pressure determined steps man;
all animated by the breath of a true light, Parquet
used when you regain your fire vigilance, a certain muscular
and brave.

One day we realized that the revolution is not just a word
of youth violence, but the water flowing to the constant thirst for men
that could bring dignity, hard and deep,
and attachment to life and
beat the holy innocent exchange of emotion between people.
That is how the fidelity of both hands in love under the moon.
That is like opening a source in a dry land on the moon.
That is like warm milk a beautiful mother in the moonlight.
Or the cry of a child under the moon.
And we knew that there are nights
forehead resting on the chest of the day,
and strong men, like ours, which hold the damp morning
and flowers in hand
rave pink for girls, candid and push
sleepy sleepy break coconuts on the staff of the breeze, and bonfires
raise their blue haze among the hills,
of the stars that guide waves fugitive beaches.
That would not have crossed paths,
or neglected the stray signals, or challenges
dark;
summer to meet his journey, his birth
seed of brilliance and hard and old
King of heaven on his way. Then we understood

life
have a strange beauty as a tree of birds and months pregnant,
we could lift his head and look at the sky
without fear and without shame,
right lung to breathe the invigorating freshness of the roots
wonderful.


That would open the floodgates rebelling closed, the curtain of the sullen and painful evenings,
we could make love,
sheer courage,
singing,
smile,
and fertilization of the water!
We understood us! We, the unspeakable.
(Elvio Romero - The nameless - from 1959 to 1973)

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nameless Viveros, two engineers of insomnia

Brothers Nursery are the most representative writers of literature Luqueño, today. Edited by Jakembó Publishers as the book two weeks ago, has illustrations of Charles Da Ponte, and the layout is Carlos Invernizzi . NGINEERING I Insomnia is a compilation of twelve stories that reflect the urban dilemma, loneliness, death and the maze of fantasy which interweave with the misfortune of living on an island surrounded by land and soybeans. Authors have expressed "On the stories that make up the work can be said that although there is almost always a germ in real life, an original seed, there is a lot of imagination seirve to complete and bring to life stories. Although insomnia is the tutelary deity of most of these writings, it should also be mentioned that imagination rules over them and injects its wise, life-giving element that allows them to stand and walk in search of readers. "

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Outstanding participation Montserrat Álvarez Out in the Sea Festival

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José Pérez Reyes Agape

Psychoanalytic Cultural Agape - Year V

"psychoanalysis and literature"

Fifth Psychoanalytic Cultural Agape:

Friday
July 25, 2008

20:00.

Library Square of the Rivera

Free admission.

Work:

"Clonsonante" Jose Perez Reyes

Commentators:

Mercedes Argaña (Reading Judith Davalos)

Genaro Riera Hunter

Adela Jover

* With the participation of the author José Pérez Reyes *

Coordination:

Via Gustavo Rojas

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Psychoanalytic Cultural Poetry: In a tile, new book by Susy Delgado Javier Viveros

Eulo García, Javier Viveros Chester Swann and the presentation of the book

About this book says Eulo Garcia "Like the memory or the shadow of a resurrected haijin , Javier Viveros explores the endless possibilities a moment through the soul to the weather, the wonderful perpetuation of an eye at the beginning of the century and the urgent need for the transience of fireflies. Invites us to know, with precision, humor, wit and melancholy that the universe, sometimes (like love, life and memory) easily fits into the small size of a tile on it and it can travel with wings feet and stars in their eyes. And with the ancient lineage of silent travelers, this book shows us the path of poetry is still run by the troubled souls of the ailments, but so strong and tireless in the revival of things. And with all this, I definitely believe it is inevitable on the horizon of life, the sunset is no longer so alone. "

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Augusto Roa Bastos

exercises Susy cultural journalism since the early 80. Was responsible for the Cultural Area of \u200b\u200bthe newspaper La Nacion for ten years. He currently heads the cultural magazine Takuapu .
has published four books of poetry in Guarani and five in Castilian, two bilingual anthology, a volume of short stories and a book of poems and stories for children, as well as compilations of Paraguayan literature. He has received several literary awards such as: Municipal Board Award 1992, Award finalist First Indigenous Literatures Casa de las Americas, Cuba, in 1992, Person of the Year in 1997, Special Mention Award in 1998 and 2000 Municipal. E
In December 2005 he won the Hamete Cide awarded by the University of Toulouse Le Mirail and Radio France International. In 2006 he won the Second Municipal Prize for Literature. Some of his books have been translated into English, Portuguese and German.
Source: Susy rogami

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