You Know The Name You Were Given,

With The Passing Of Time, As Well As The Social Evolution And Genetic Exchange, We Ended Up Putting Our Conscience In The Colour Of Blood And In The Salt Of Tears, And, As If That Were Not Enough, We Made Our Eyes Into A Kind Of Mirror Turned Inwards, With The Result That They Often Show Without Reserve What We Are Verbally Trying To Deny.

In Effect I Am Not A Novelist, But Rather A Failed Essayist Who Started To Write Novels Because He Didn't Know How To Write Essays.

Beginning With Adolescence, My Political Formation Was Oriented In The Ideological Direction Of Marxism. It Was Natural, Being That My Thinking Was Influenced By An Atmosphere Of Active Critical Resistance. That Was The Way It Was During All Of The Dictatorship And Up To The Revolution Of 1974.

I'm Not Pessimistic. It Is The World That Is Terrible. How Can We Be Optimistic In The Face Of A Planet Where People Live So Badly, Nature Is Being Destroyed And The Dominant Empire Is Money?

We All Have Our Moments Of Weakness, Just As Well That We Are Still Capable Of Weeping, Tears Are Often Our Salvation, There Are Times When We Would Die If We Did Not Weep - Blindness