But Anja. I hear Anja's voice. Maybe I am insane. I hear her crying. I see her alone in the trees. I remember being alone and humiliated. I remember, too, the fat little boy hiding in the bathroom. And I see this man, Ariane. I see this evil man, Ariane. He laughs everyday still. He has had years of laughter. He has triumphed over the screams of others, he has triumphed with blood on his hands. And he laughs still. God has cursed us! He has either cursed us or He was never here to begin with. We've pretended God was here for our own sanity! That's the truth! We've pretended evil is punished and good is rewarded. A perfect scheme!
Sergio TroncosoTag: murder antisemitism right-and-wrong holocaust righteousness latino yale-university righteous-gentile hispanic sergio-troncoso holocaust-literature jews-and-judaism-in-europe
It’s a great honor, m’ijo. We know that. I’m sure everyone in Ysleta is proud of you. But this is who you are," she said, for a moment scanning the dark night air and the empty street. A cricket chirped in the darkness. "God help you when you go to this ‘Havid.’ You will be so far away from us, from everything you know. You will be alone. What if something happens to you? Who’s going to help you? But you always wanted to be alone; you were always so independent, so stubborn."
"Like you.
Tag: education culture harvard immigrants chicano assimilation latino immigrant-fiction immigrant-experience hispanic sergio-troncoso
Julia, is everything all right?” her father said in a raspy voice. “It’s three in the morning, m’ija.”
“I’m sorry. I have to talk to you; it’s something very important. Papá, Mamá, I’ve made a decision, and I wanted to share it with you. I’ve decided to convert to the Muslim religion.”
“What?” Pilar screamed. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Julia, what are you saying?”
“I want to be a Muslim. I’ve even chosen a new Muslim name, Aliyah.”
“Julia, are you drunk?”
“No, Papá, I’m not drunk. I’ve thought about this for a very long time. I think it’s the right thing for me, a way to follow God.
Tag: family religion immigrants chicano assimilation family-life latino religious-faith immigrant-fiction religious-conversions family-saga immigrant-experience hispanic sergio-troncoso
I held Angie Luna in that room for hours, and I remember the different times we made love like epochs in a civilization, each movement and every touch, apex upon abyss. In the luxury of our bed, we tried every position and every angle. I explored the curves on her body and delighted in seeing the freedom of her ecstasy. Her desperate whispers and pleas. I told her I loved her, and she said she loved me too. We lay in bed with our limbs entangled, in a pacific silence that reminded me of existing on a beach just for the sake of such an existence. I couldn't imagine the world ever becoming better, and for some strange reason the thought slipped into my head that I had suddenly grown to be an old man because I could only hope to repeat, but never improve on, a night like this. I finally took her home sometime when the interstate was empty, and the bridges seemed to lead to nowhere, for they were desolate too.
Sergio TroncosoTag: love stories literature relationships short-stories lovers chicano mexican-american latino love-story mexican-americans hispanic sergio-troncoso
« prima precedente
Pagina 2 di 2.
Data privacy
Imprint
Contact
Diese Website verwendet Cookies, um Ihnen die bestmögliche Funktionalität bieten zu können.