The Aeleteo De La Mariposa. Ana Maria Manceda. St. Martin De Los Andes

* I thought nostalgia was at rest, but somewhere in the universe, a butterfly fluttered. Like a river traveling its course, the mind at every moment steers sculpted emotions in routine. Chaos lurks transparent, simple becomes complex balancing the disorder begins, the invisible appears inexorable. Because nostalgia is perverse, parasitic, seductive. Omnipresent, mixed with blood flow, the air we breathe. The beautiful landscape is covered with fog, music heard coming from the shadows and paints strange faces roam the streets.

then ... The poem is in its infancy and the dreaded cry peers. I thought nostalgia was at rest, but somewhere in the universe, a butterfly fluttered. HONORARY MENTION EDIT.NOVELARTE INTERNATIONAL COMPETITION (CÓRDOBA.ARGENTINA) 2006. IN anthologist? A "ART IN THREE TIMES? ************************************* Loneliness. ANA microstories OF SEA? A MANCEDA. I followed my husband took me to many confusing situations to extreme jealousy. There in the middle of the road was his car. I went down, only saw the roll of the coirones pushed by the wind and very dry grass in the distance a cottage. Inhospitable landscape, empty. I entered the car. No, but my body felt it. The scent of lilies from my friend forever occupied every inch of my solitude. PRESENCE. Microstories. Ana Maria Manceda was a giant wave crossed the middle of the street. I had an almost religious crisis, rose and passed an energy contained in its gray back that seemed to contain all the force of the universe. I managed to touch my sister and I said suddenly to step. she went. then the aqueous monster down, and saw scattered power gentle pass near our feet abandoned water.