Adobo Criollo Sergio Antonio Ortiz Rivera

Approaching Infinity I am not the fragile child who thought nothingness would one morning appear to become nothingness. I am not that baby boy in whose arms reigned motionless, lonely, silent arms. Flight is all my soul needs to feel your sorrow.

The Waves The body is wakeful space in translation, inexhaustible tension between outside and inside. There are no shores to contain the storms and inward darkness of its sweeping winds. The body does not know the extent of its inner anger. The waves expel and everything is erased. I refuse to see the empty corners of my frame. In its translations I'm still a child.