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MARIO J. TORRES
Miami
Possibly, the prize for the most original, peculiar and suigeneris city in
the United States should be awarded to Miami, the city of palms, that of the
unstoppable sun, the furious rain and envied beaches, which, with the
passing of years has become the alien capital of the Spanish race, and in
some sort of weird first invading stronghold and foreign conqueror without
war within the undefeated empire that has backed down before the fresh
Spanish allied thrust that floods her streets and customs. The gateway to
America, the one with the warm welcome to the newcomer, the bilingual one,
the one that always takes more but the difficult to tame means sleepless
delirium for those who do not know her and permanent ambition for the many
aspiring to classify to breathe her air. According to old Miamians, this
beautiful, strange, whimful and magic female was not always an adult, and
grew like immature girl but soon nourished herself from ardent survivors and
runaways full of illusion from a known neighboring dictatorship, explorers
of the 20th century, hungry to grow and thrive, who built a copy of the old
free Berlin like an oasis for the dying 90 miles away from their hell. With
the fame arisen from her adulthood, other accents of our language, for
different reasons but with the same purpose, joined the now Floridian
Southeastern Giant, mixing all their shades with the pioneers of the 60's to
finally obtain the incredible blend of hot dog and guava pie and the
brotherhood of sugar cane and apple juice among other unexpected and
unthinkable miracles. I myself find in her, by nostalgia and by dint of
artificially looking for my own and for what I already lost, many more
carefully searched things than I could not even find in the drawers of my
very old house and this is what it makes her so special. Shelter of my
ideas, my second dwelling; this complex lady fatally frightens me but
simultaneously, she sweetly attracts me
MARIO J TORRES
JUNE 2004
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