It ain’t whatcha write, It’s the way atcha write it.” – Jack Kerouac
Once, in Argentina, a land of hidden dinosaurs and unexploited natural wealth, there was a young boy who traveled a hundred kilometers to visit his grandfather almost every summer. His grandfather lived alone in a big house in the countryside… Continue Reading
One of the best earlier answers to this question came from Dell Hymes, who in his introduction to Toward ethnographies of communication said that formalization should be a “preparation of better means to anthro-pological ends” (Hymes 1964:1). This idea was… Continue Reading
The innumerous men and women that were snatched from Africa for over a period of four hundred years brought along with them their culture and tried to found a creative outlet for their feelings and beliefs as a way to… Continue Reading
When I do a good deed I cherish the idea that life is fair and will reward me, but when I don’t behave as well as I could, I’m comforted by the knowledge that life is intrinsically unfair.
Based on historical facts 1999, Rosario, Argentina. Elba was a happy 20 year old girl. She lived in a nice flat near the University where she studied economics and she visited her parents almost every weekend. They lived in a… Continue Reading
So, if you want an Argentinean to be humble, dont’ ask him general questions about his country. Ask him rather about the country’s economy or the last worldcup final. What do people who know us say about us? Other South… Continue Reading
There was the terrorism of a thousand and one nights, the everlasting, ever current waging of never ending wars. There was a face on a shelf, a smile on display and a promise in a showcase. All I wanted was… Continue Reading
You brush your teeth every day while the coffee of slumber ulcerates my stomach, and you go out to a snow blast while indoors everything dulls my daring. I forget not to sleep while you’re combing your hair, the party… Continue Reading
To others the task of singing feelings that relate me to you, I put away my guitar and in its place I play my emotions in low tone strings. The blues of bandoneons reminds me of a song I’m always… Continue Reading
As the day unfurls its thin hours and convinces me of another solemn end to an evening that repeats itself ad tedium, I see the gray charade of your blue eyes and think of the quantum, the mechanics and the… Continue Reading