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" Reverend Father, I am clueless as sunflowers blind. Although today I have seen the death of a communist, everything else, father, I have been defeated and that is why I am sicut clouds ..., quasi flucturs ... veluto umbra, a fleeting shadow .
Read my letter as a confession, after which, God willing, absuélvame, but if, as I fear, my sin is unforgivable, pray for me, because I have doubts myself contrition - that is the Devil my body - although my attrition this letter is intended to give a thorough account.
all started when, following his advice, Father, I joined the Glorious Army. Fought three years in the front part in the Crusade, living beings glorious and grim, with soldiers full of ideals and petty instincts, but prone to God when they have to choose between the doom and glory. (...)

Probably the events occurred as others have, but I recognize them only as a landscape where they live my memories. I keep wondering how the trees were planted when or how my mother was young or what he looked like when I was a child.
All that has survived has gradually altered his memory because his real presence is incompatible with the memory, but what we lost on the road is still frozen in the moment of his death to take their place in the past.
So I know what it was like what has disappeared, which left or left me in a moment of my life and never returned to which reality is altered little by little, where his now leaves no room for their past.
Maybe that's why I remember my father's young, tall, skinny and strong arm around my elderly mother tired and sweet. I remember Brother Salvador with his cassock military harassing my elderly mother, tired and sweet and scurrilous policemen insulting my mother alone, tired and sweet. But mostly I remember a child full of complicity with his elderly mother, tired and sweet, which can not remember how I said was: young, strong and sweet.

Ah! They tried to alter the order of things, modify the designs of the Lord knowing that non est potestas nisi a Deo and we had to teach a new order to the lawless. We had to glorify our victory.
When I returned, Father, mash misfortunes and sins, seeking forgiveness to the seminar, maybe your forgiveness would have been better than long test that you, my teachers, decides. My training was superior to nearly all my comrades, but I gladly accepted as a teacher join Infants and Preparatory College of the Holy Family. (...) I joined a minor order in which to forget my follies and regain the light. (...) It all started with a stranger among kindergarten students. (...)


Now I can talk about everything, but I have trouble remember, because memory is diluted, but the nausea that gives me my childhood. I remember those years as a vast living in a mirror, something that I had the misfortune to experience and observe at the same time. On this side of the mirror was the pretense, make-believe. The other, what really happened. (...) There was a world
named Alcalá 177 and the third floor, point C, it was my land. (...) But of all the memories, which prevails over that I had a father hiding in a closet.



Today I think, Father, that I noticed something that distinguishes them from others: it was a sad child but with a strange serenity for their age. In games without discord, without submission obedience in their interest in learning and pride to know, in their silence ... (...) We were asking love for their country and we returned his silence! (...)

My home was distributed to both sides of an aisle. (...) Of all noises, including all voices, including all expressions of life around us, my father, my mother and I were perfectly cataloged foreshadowing the danger and reflecting routine. No one ever alluded to these silences that the lift caused, as nobody made any comment when my father, if someone called at our door, hid in a cupboard behind a toilet two tables on either side of a mirror. "

Alberto Mendez, Fourth loss: 1942 or The Blind Sunflowers

Alberto Mendez, The Blind Sunflowers, Barcelona, \u200b\u200bEditorial Anagram, 2004. ISBN9-788433-968555
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Warlords © Johanna Lozoya

"We had the freedom to torture, to kill, to murder, and we had the freedom to fight, to go forward to try to maintain dignity. It's frightening that you can use to make a word. The important thing is that there is presence of a sense of responsibility cívica, de dignidad personal, de respeto colectivo; si se mantiene, si se construye, si no se acepta caer en la resignación, en la apatía, en la indiferencia, eso puede ser una simple semilla para que algo cambie. Pero yo soy consciente de que esto a su vez no significa mucho."

José Saramago, fragmento de texto en Revista Número , Bogotá, núm. 44, marzo-mayo de 2005, publicado en El País , sábado 2 de octubre de 2010.