La Nueva Mestiza: Feminismo Consciente. Gracias por tu sororidad
Feminismo consciente
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Going back to dreaming mood for my next novel!
Lamas were singing or they were teaching me how to; than, they were happy. I felt like reality was getting back to me. What are they happy for? We are happy because of happiness! They replied.
Mientras escribía/ While I was writing
(...) Hope nestled deep in my consciousness, was a kind of white flag that fluttered to not be forgotten. When I went to see her (hope), predatory characters had eaten ITS parts. However, I achieved the necessary elements to resurface it, gradually and through letters, I was able to reconnect with the world, established relationships with acquaintances of real life who seeped into my hands as fictional characters. They, my friends. They smiled knowing I was hurt, trying to relearn writing. Suddenly I knew that I had forgotten to write and read. I erased the years of pain and my writing of Cosmic Women resembled the babble of the dying wo/men, who longs to remain in the role of collective memory. The years moved my hands, altered the books to shake the claims. Parallel realities were coming to life. I begged to get out of the mess, I was angry with literature. At least I felt something, anger. Come back to life by the door of restlessness. Arline, the second reality, was depressed, s