Subject: notoriety request

From: "Gertrude Burgess" <[email-masked]>
Date: Tue, 29 Aug 2006 17:00:23 -0300

On her left were two big trees, and a cane fence,and little straw huts of Indians.
How can you be so sure that you yourself are not a poisoner of thepeople?
I am not rich, and I am not poor, saidKate.
I am younger than the young andolder than the old.
He is dead, they said, but unrelinquished. They broke my Churches,they stole my strength, they withered the lips of the Virgin.
He is afraid, murmured Maria del Carmen, laying her hand on theyoung mans knee. He is dead, they said, but unrelinquished. Seeing only another monster of theouter void. Then on the slope of silence he sat down and took offhis sandals, and I put them on. Julio, who had become absorbed, ended abruptly, as the tale of theleaflet was ended. Juana spoke ina wicked wonder, horrified, delighted, mocking. Then on the slope of silence he sat down and took offhis sandals, and I put them on.
But the day will come when I shall go away, she said to herself. The urchins dragged it in, like a rag, by a string tied to itsleg. Mystem is in the air, my roots are in all the dark, the sun is nomore than a cupful within me. The Hymns of Quetzalcoatl, said Ezequiel, in his barking youngvoice, with sudden bravado. These people came to market to asort of battle. Now all was very heavy upon me, like a tomb-stone of darkness. And she wondered over the black vision in the eyes of that urchin. Or blackness and lightning and crashingviolence of rain.
It lay wet and draggled on the pale, moving sperm of the water,like a buoyant rag.
The bitof coarse fibre-string hung from its limp, greenish, waterfowlsankle. She rose from her rocking-chair andwalked down the veranda and round the dining-room bay.
She rose from her rocking-chair andwalked down the veranda and round the dining-room bay. Kate watched the rag of feathered misery anxiously.
Quetzalcoatl is just a living word, for these people, no more. And she was stranded in her isolation on her terrace.
They say, said the bold Concha, that in Paradise he has grownyoung.
He said to himself: Surelythose are Mexicans crying!