work and miracles and meeting, the work of Carlos Wynter Melo 
E stima L reflectors:
This week we present the Carlos Wynter Melo, a Panamanian young writer who I consider my friend. We often meet for coffee or a pint (here we call it "paints" - unit of liquid measure metric English - a bottle of beer), talking about everything. Looking stories. Ileana Perez, editor of the supplement They asked me the other day what genre Panama had a chance to shine. Quickly replied "story." Panamanians, if anything we can do well is take stories. "Come to my house and we take little stories", "Brother, I have to throw you a cueeeeeento!" And as you see, is not "tell a story" is take a story. The launching and exploding firecrackers, light up the urban monotony of our routine. Pra! a story, pra! another. If there is something I enjoy in life is to take stories with Carlos, who always seems inexhaustible, have a new story to tell. His versatility as a shit talker in each of their stories, they are not (stop light) isolated events of chance. They are thumbnails brilliantly constructed, clear but complex structure. Carlos operates under the premise "writing with the sun and the moon." In today's program, will talk to him about this and other topics. In the words of Héctor Collado "heir of a solid narrative culture (Wynter Melo) along with a handful of young storytellers, provides national literature a voice that challenges the mediocrity of the immediacy and commitment to transcendence."
Call us at the booth of Radio 10, phone 236-1595. You can ask questions and gain an invited author of many books sheet. has for you.
Our second guest is not a writer. Despaigne Gabriel Ceballos, apart from having numerous commercial diving certifications, is a renowned environmental activist, concerned about the danger that our politicians described the marine fauna of Panama. And what has this to do with literature? Everything. The writer draws of everyday personal, interpersonal, national and international. Not find, ever, a writer who does not have strong views on a specific topic.
sheet. is an ecological magazine. We like to believe in preserving nature and supporting the peaceful actions aimed at preventing the hunting of marine mammals in our waters. What will she think Carlos of all this?
Welcome to another edition of sheet.
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the book
The escapist and other leaks
the "escape" won the 1998 contest Panamanian José María Sánchez. " With the award was published, the copies were sold in Panama and in parts of Mexico, and his stories appeared in newspapers and magazines. One of his stories, "Apparitions", was selected for a German anthology of American Erotic Tale. And several of his stories were added to collections and international anthologies.
STORY
Nicanor turns
N icanor gradually moved to more interesting places. Places where time stands still and life is forever new. He lived too many days of sixteen hours, eight workers, seven in response to parents and the last before sleep, the most lovely hour reading. He immersed himself in the sights of the books and living with dream characters and limitless. And when that happened, Nicanor himself was a dream, an endlessness.
But each day after mother's voice calling for breakfast, Dad talking about the newspaper. After the rush, work and go home. As a boring carousel that is subject, because it had to do, "because what I had," because the good son, "And if mom and dad if ...". The thing is that at night, as eager fugitive, was thrown to read until he was surprised the torpor.
And again awakening: perhaps what was most struck dead guess what every moment calling for breakfast mom, dad talking about the morning paper. The good morning appeared to be the same, the same people on the bus, as sorrow. The day carried by inertia and daytime phrase: "it seems incredible that he's gone on, Nicanor: and life goes." He invariably says, "If mom, so life goes."
Nicanor books piled towers. At the edge of your bed waiting to be devoured, and he was turning the day hoping to read them. The leaves had become calendrical measures: thirty pages a day, seven metaphors another. Thus, as happens in an hourglass, Nicanor fell gradually to a new time. "Nicanor, breakfast, and he mechanically served breakfast. "Nicanor, the newspaper" and like a sleepwalker picked up the package left at the door in his mind did other things was the interesting adventurer who dared everything was free. And another day and another, living a dream and just keeping life.
A later bought that book. It was called "Nicanor turns." "What a title," he said, "with my name." He bought immediately and longed to read.
With the obsession with order that was customary, Nicanor beat reading the books stacked before diving into his new acquisition. Every night, accelerated the march to reach "your book." Brought breakfast, get the newspaper, good morning to all, how are you? Again the night and crave his book, and sleeping, and day ... Until warmly caressed the golden letters: "Nicanor turns." Slowly passed the first leaves and let the light run down the paper. The reading was enjoyable. The main character was an incredible adventure. It went from one place to another, new friends bars, adventures. And the stupor. And Nicanor fell asleep with the book in the chest.
came a day when the mother woke up screaming. Nicanor looked it in the shadows of the night and fear. Entered the room. The mother shook her head and moaned, his hand painted by a string of dawn, looked inordinately quiet father's eyes.
Nicanor seemed to lie in death. In the background, always considered an event that is only expected. "With what we mean," with the days so well everyday. " No longer would Dad, and that was something that did not understand. The absence of what was assumed. He was afraid: his past and his future was one would be different.
had to organize the funeral, making decisions on the settlement of the deceased, shameless sarcasm, and invite a few but loyal friends who kept the old man. When it looked like the subject, it seemed a cruel tradition.
After the Mass, looking uncomfortable and wake the dead, he felt worse. Came home, the mother was now all day in his room, looking preoccupied or sleeping. He fell in the morning and found a vacuum. Silence. He was afraid. He hastened to prepare breakfast. Ate. Silence and waiting for anything, do anything or just dad into the kitchen. He picked up the newspaper and read it. The silence and fear. There was something painful fate. Panic went to his room, by the book, for "his" book. The father's face as white as the paper does not leave him. He took the book and the pages ahead, breaking the order, as a prophecy because the order was breaking breaking time. Read that Nicanor was their travels. He read that his dreams were diluted over the years. Read that it was becoming pessimistic, realistic, ... old. And then cried. And he read about the days of life, of Nicanor, a disappointment himself, wearily. And he sobbed as he felt his face or the character of the book (now knew that they were equal) would be the father, he would ask for breakfast and prepare it every morning, he would seek the newspaper or it would have to seek or crave, and at night would say something about how time flies and life, every night I would say that over time and life, with nothing to do, "For what I had" "because if Mom and Dad "...
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In the work
NAKED AND OTHER TALES
WOMEN OF SANTA FE
"The love without success, the same as
lucky
believes the
world is aware of their feelings"
Rudyard Kipling ("The woman of my son")
S and found in the train station. Cruz, after having spent some time at corner, eager new places. After working here and there as a laborer, had the curiosity of a child.
De Corner loved the lake. It took a bath after every day, friends of the farm. It took a few beers into the night and left the new sun. During the day were the tourists who, on the banks, getting drunk and having fun like crazy.
remembered a guy you spoke of Santa Fe, a village further south. In the words of a relative, a boring and ugly people, but well-bred women, and pa 'married. Cross-age wedding, they are imagined in his own way: women who always obeyed, which spoiled his man all the time and loving mothers who did all they could bear children.
Cruz already had collected some money. I felt like settling down with a female who said the uncle.
When Cruz saw the woman at the train station, beautiful and proud like a cocoon, there sit-front, put it between the eyes of Santa Fe was
Luisa distrusted from the outset Cross. It seemed pretty dumb, but she smiled without looking at her. He kept his eyes, shy, and hit the thighs.
Luisa has been in Santa Fe but is not there. Step and was quite amused. Between cousins \u200b\u200band aunts felt safe.
Corner was in for a week. It was the first time traveling alone. The premiums the tried naive not believe I could get either the train without getting lost. But Luisa squeezed the bag to his chest and went, determined, to rail.
A woman vacationing in nooks offered domestic employment. And all was well. But one day he walked around the lake, so beautiful that pierce the Corner as a navel, a drunken tourist touched her buttock. A slap, nothing more. But the laughter of the group felt more scared than ever. Slipped away crestfallen.
thought that's why the premiums they said what they said, was stupid said. But it would have to be demure and surly.
Luisa Cruz approached. He offered a cigarette.
- No - she said flatly.
He seemed decent for a woman not to smoke.
He lit his cigarette and, after drawing, he asked
- Where do you travel?
- anywhere.
- How's that?
- I have not decided yet.
- Aahh! - He said no offense. He added - What that Santa Fe? - this was said to see if she was there.
- Well, with premiums and relatives passed a taste it, and ... how do you know about Santa Fe?
- Ah - his satisfaction - is that I am witch! Care because I can do to make you love me.
As Cruz was that she was angry, he told otherwise.
- is that I have been in Santa Fe, I seemed to see her there.
She nodded reluctantly. He continued.
- Yes, it will be ugly and boring, but there are the best in the world.
As she was not really Santa Fe, did not understand the flirting. Moreover, contradicted Cruz:
- I do not know that seems to you, but Santa Fe is not ugly or boring.
- Well, if you say, nothing remains but to accept it.
It tore her a smile. Swallowed to be haughty. He noted that struck flush, spoke to him again.
- and on women, am I wrong?
As she was not really Santa Fe, he replied sharply:
- You know!
He stared, slowly smoked.
- I lied, I have not been to Santa Fe
She looked challenging.
- So lies. It took me bad memories of this place, do not try to give me another!
- But what has made this town?
- You are not going to say!
Cruz
Then, without malice, made a foolish question:
- Was not as crystal clear lake that is here ...?
She stared, rose from the bench and sat on the other side.
He was confused, his mouth open. He looked at his watch and sucked a cigarette.
She was not only giving to want, he concluded. The women of Santa Fe were well nourished and were loving mothers of all children who could give birth. Had to take the initiative and, as they were accustomed to obey, showing the way with decision.
Cruz With a smile across the room. He stood next to Luisa. She was rude.
- now what you want!
Cruz followed with determination.
- Look, I like you, I have a realitas saved and wanted to do family.
Now she was confused: Does this man was proposing marriage?! He was unarmed.
Cruz said the train was leaving and living in Santa Fe immediately took her arm. Distracted, thinking about the proposal so suddenly, got carried away. He spoke without looking at it, about going to travel and see further. Luisa argued his case against his chest, saw the man who squeezed his arm, there, in nooks, for her, another drunken tourists, the latter had given by marriage. Everything was confusing, only half-open eyes could see the dusty bus station and the insistent sun.
could tempt the idea of \u200b\u200bleaving the force led by a man. But I was afraid, what would you say the premiums? The man spoke of the lake and how much she enjoyed it. Luisa again pressed his case against his chest. No sir, he said, would be very stupid if disrespected him twice in the same trip. So when Cruz turned to help her with the suitcase, gave a sharp slap in the face and ran, not daring to look back.
Cruz looks from the window your car. You have doubts about female Santa Fe
Luisa Cruz will not talk to anyone. But for meetings with relatives, will tell a story full of pride, how he got rid of a drunk at the point of slapping and before he touched the buttocks.
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Dolphins 101 For more information on the subject of hunting of dolphins, problems and solutions, access the following links:
The inconvenient truth about the dolphin:
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Poet. Born in Panama City in 1967. Bachelor of Business Administration, Postgraduate Diploma in Management and Masters in Business Administration with specialization in Human Resources. He was part of the Young Writers' Collective "José Marti. 
