La placa de bronce decía «Borges»
Eder2021-10-01T13:16:31+02:00Paul Theroux The Brass Plaque Said 'Borges' La placa de bronce decía «Borges» Despite its eerie name, the Buenos Aires Subterranean is an efficient five-line network of subway trains. The same size as Boston's subway, it was built five years later, in 1913 (making it older than Chicago's or Moscow's), and, as in Boston, it quickly put the tram cars out of business. The apartment of Jorge Luis Borges was on Maipu, around the corner from Plaza General San Martin Station, on the Retiro-Constitución line. I had been eager to take the Subterranean ever since I heard of its existence; and I had greatly wished to talk to Borges. He was to [...]
Borges según Avedon (o Avedon cegado por Borges)
Eder2020-12-19T23:50:17+01:00Avedon: Borges, Buenos Aires, 1975 Avedon: Borges, Nueva York, 1976 “In 1975 I reached a point in my career when I was not interested in making portraits of people of power and fame. However, there were three men whose work he greatly admired and whose picture I wanted to do: Jorge Luis Borges, Samuel Beckett and Francis Bacon. Their portraits involved three different types of performance: Borges gave a performance infotografiable, Beckett rejected the performance and Bacon gave a perfect performance. I photograph what I fear most, and Borges was blind. In flight to Buenos Aires tell me that Borges’s mother, whom I knew he lived all his life, had just died that morning. I assumed the session would [...]
Le cauchemar
Eder2015-04-25T13:07:01+02:00Le cauchemar, Jorge Luis Borges: http://youtu.be/PuXDAeG2qVw
Un lector (por Jorge Luis Borges)
Eder2014-03-23T22:43:14+01:00https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AANxFHKW2is Que otros se jacten de las páginas que han escrito; a mí me enorgullecen las que he leído. No habré sido un filólogo, no habré inquirido las declinaciones, los modos, la laboriosa mutación de las letras, la de que se endurece en te, la equivalencia de la ge y de la ka, pero a lo largo de mis años he profesado la pasión del lenguaje. Mis noches están llenas de Virgilio; haber sabido y haber olvidado el latín es una posesión, porque el olvido es una de las formas de la memoria, su vago sótano, la otra cara secreta de la moneda. Cuando en mis ojos se borraron las vanas apariencias queridas, los rostros y la página, me di al estudio del lenguaje de [...]