Recordar: To remember; from the Latin records, to pass back through the heart

I'm a writer obsessed with remembering, with remembering the past of America and above all that of Latin America, intimate land condemned to amnesia.

If the grape is made of wine, then perhaps we are the words that tell who we are

And one fine day the goddess of the wind kisses the foot of man, that mistreated, scorned foot, and from that kiss the soccer idol is born. He is born in a straw crib in a tin-roofed shack and he enters the world clinging to a ball.

Writing is a marvelous adventure and very labor-intensive: those words run away and try to escape. They are very difficult to capture.

There are some writers who feel they are elected by God. I am not. I am elected by the devil - this is clear.

I'm not asking you to describe the rain falling the night the archangel arrived; I'm demanding that you get me wet. Make up your mind, Mr. Writer, and for once in your life be the flower that smells rather than the chronicler of the aroma. There's not much pleasure in writing what you live. The challenge is to live what you write.