Laptops Female Fertility

Antonio Porchia

I read somewhere that was a carpenter, weaver and printer, among other trades, and, turning fifty, he retired to a house with his wife, on the outskirts. Thereafter led a modest life the frequently changing address, always a smaller, living on the difference in price you left.

his friends in 1943 had released their "voices", a kind of poetic aphorisms, an issue borne by them almost only distributed in libraries.

For years, his sentences were passed from hand to hand, photocopied over and over again, copied pages or books, or taken to the dictates when, from time to time, we invited read by radio.

"We live with the hope of becoming a memory," "Everyone can kill me, but everyone can not hurt me ";" There are forgetting that he forgets "...


There, at home, often received his friends, and was writing," Those little things I do "as he defined them, and fascinated, in Paris, Breton and Quenneau.
few years ago editorial published Pre-texts Collected Voices . Manuel Borrás had found one of his books in a library old, in Buenos Aires, and was fascinated by his poetry and lucid and melancholic look.
died in 1968, after slipping on the stairs, which had risen to one of the prune trees in his garden.

"I bring flowers," he wrote, "where they know you and I know you, in two different places"


page dedicated to Antonio Porchia