Time Notebook

My body brings the coffee smell and the work of my family done for many years, impregnated. Victoria was named the truck of my grandfather, Sweet potato was named the horse of mygrandfather...While they worked, I played... as they opened their eyes by the pichuchanka, I slept... Buena Vista, is named that beautiful place... Castro Pando is my last name.

I exist, because behind me, a lot of people lived loving what they used to do, calloused hands due to the peaks and shovels, friendly skin of ants and coffee trees... The Agrarian Reform was the first silence, the internal war its second great silence
Mamaca never daunted, mamacata worked and worked...She sang in the afternoons, she spun at nights and she always visited me after seven hundred and four clouds finished bathing her house

I found a book of time in this last trip, I found scents of fruit on the cover and inside a warmed kiss serrano from the Andes wass held...I don’t know who left it
I only know I want to share it
I only know, I want you all to know her.