Every year, but you didn´t know, or you did and forgot it, a remote city called Medellín is the stage for the most important poetry event in the world. A short memory world, as you can see. So short and incipient that it has no space or time for poetry, that time demanding and useless genre of literature that once our grandparents adored.
Such version is contradicted by facts that jump into plain sight. Most of the public is indeed in their twenties. And paid, and will pay, the non despicable tribute of visiting a place of the city that the rest of the year is a sleeping concrete whale. Pride on us, young people. The new neurons of this world, our duty is to remember and don´t ignore what we shouldn´t turn our backs to.
Tradition, they´ll say, conservative custom, and so on. But as we can´t and wont forget to think and feel, there shall be a place for poetry among us. It is a pretty laidy. It is an oracle, a shelter for human deep boundaries, problems, passions, fears and tears (of joy or fatefulness).
And it´ll be my pleasure to translate what is to be translated to you, who, perhaps for the first time, feel far away of the center of world important events. No, television chains are not invited. Neither are movie stars or rock stars. Lots of hipsters, you could forsee-- yes, we have them too, they are everywhere--.
Cheers, my mainstream reader.
http://www.festivaldepoesiademedellin.org/
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