That November morning in 1992, Caraqueños woke up to the roaring sounds of military planes. An attempt of coup d’etat was underway.
The gesture of an Anasyrma is as old as human beings and when performed unexpectedly, it is the most effective.
How do you cram four million people in a tiny valley? The answer lies in the vertical dimension. Caracas, the capital city of Venezuela, grows vertically.
Cities only differ in their local color. In a sense, once you have been to one city, you have been to all.
In rare occasions, billboards showcase personal messages. In such instances, billboards will become a strong attention magnet.
Twenty years ago, we said: “no more” and so we left the homeland. Venezuela has not changed much since then, I am afraid. And now the country faces yet another set of problems.
Energy can be transformed from one form to another, but it cannot be created or destroyed. Can we say the same of love?
In the mid 80’s, I stumbled upon the “Rubayaits” by Omar Khayyam, a poet who lived in the 12th century Persia. These poems are not about love but they do speak of the transience of things – just what young passionate lovers need to hear. Thirty years later (and a waning passion), this little reading gem still rings true to me.
Your victories are our victories!. But make no mistakes: we don’t take your victories -or your defeats- too seriously.
Sundown at “El Camellón”, Santa Marta, Colombia (1993) (English version follows below) Mientras transito por la iconica “Sunset Boulevard” de … More