María Flores is a romantic Colombian girl who grows in the mountains of eastern Antioquia. They inhabit the characteristic families of that region where life is still a life despite the changes that are given to account of the decisions of a country with respect to the way its inhabitants occupy it.
This novel is also overflowing with poetry around the fields of flower crops and the high mountains of the Colombian Andes. A life of hard work that is always rewarded with the meetings of families that is barely kept but at the time of making parties, meets in a "parviao chocolate", which makes your heart very happy.
It is a way to get to know Colombia and its idiosyncrasies and to recognize its economic, cultural, social and political processes. Thanks to the environment of María Flores, it is understood what happens in the countryside, in homes, in villages, and even beyond where one can understand that these characters can live.
When my body speaks to me, I believe
And I believe him because he speaks to me in simple language. Old. Accurate. Truthful. And it tells me who we were. About us. Who we will be He also tells me everything in a chronon. Tiny measure in which everything happens. Like this instant. Like the millions of instants in which we move and which sometimes go unnoticed and others do not ...
When my body speaks to me, I believe and stop. And then everything makes sense. And I am stopped in a place without time and space where only my spirit lives. A wonderful and mysterious place to which I would like to take them all. A magical place that resides in all of us and that we can not catch but feel and touch and dream. A place where everything is possible. A place where our bodies are submerged with all the fury of their souls, to stay there hidden in that limbo from which it seems that we do not want to leave.
When my body speaks to me, it pulls me out and squeezes me and pulls me outside and leaves me naked before the sensations that run through me because of what I see and can not resist. Or for what I see and want to hug and catch and kiss. Or for those beings that silently and without their knowing it touched my spirit forever. A look. A smile. A silence A touch of our skins. Because everything is spoken first by the skin. Our senses speak to us in that language older than the word. That which today lifts me up to empty my thoughts and thus be able to do this which is what I love the most.
Because when my body speaks to me it takes me out of that numbness of life. And it takes me to the most unexpected places. And it gives me the absolute pleasure of doing what I feel and saying what I think. To take everything and wrap it like a melody when its notes rise and fall and blend perfectly to make me shudder. To make me sob at the beauty of those who dreamed of those notes and those who interpreted them, making my heart race and my pulse not fit in my body and my veins are small for so many feelings and the millions of cells that compose me travel far and come back leaving me breathless.
When my body speaks to me I feel like the luckiest being in the world. Because I can cry of sadness and joy. Because I can go to that place where no chronon lives and stop and hug others without them even noticing. And I can give them all my love and wrap them with joy and wish a better future for everything I see. People. The forests. The whales. The blue sky. The rain. The mountains. Jungle. My people. The people that I do not know but that I know exists and that today their spirits also dance to the beauty of life.
When my body speaks to me I have believed ... and this is what he has told me.
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