Bobby Sands Desfallece en el Muro / Bobby Sands Faints at the Wall

Escrib Bobby Sand desfallece en el muro en Chile, el a o 1982, en una poca tr gica, despu s de leer la cr nica del diario sobre la huelga de hambre que estaba llevando a cabo Bobby Sands, poeta y miembro del IRA, en la c rcel de Maze en Inglaterra. Me pareci una situaci n l mite, una acci n por medio de inanici n con una convicci n indiscutible, de un amor tan grande por sus ideales, incluso para morir por ellos. Mi pregunta surgi en c mo escribir sobre el hambre y pens que deb a eludir su biograf a, ya que esto estaba impl cito en el relato de los medios. Entonces me dirig a qu era lo importante, cu l ser a el enunciado de alguien que realiza una acci n tan radical y consciente que me exig a pensar el texto, que ya hab a escrito en tercetos. Ellos surgieron pensando en la historia de Irlanda y en que los hab a finalizado y corregido en una pieza de convento con una cama muy peque a, un velador y una ventana tan m nima que daba la sensaci n de la c rcel chilena. I wrote Bobby Sand faints on the wall in Chile in 1982, during a tragic time, upon reading a newspaper chronicle about the hunger strike that this poet, and member, of the IRA was carrying out in the prison of Maze in England. It seemed to me a limit situation, an action by means of starvation with an indisputable conviction, of such a great love for his ideals, that he would die for it. Then my question was how to write about hunger: in what way or what technique to use. I did scientific research on the subject but even still the brutal context we lived in did the rest. I, myself, made the book as a notebook. I went to the cemetery and took photos of some side walls. I published it without permission, since there was a law from the Ministry of the Interior that authorized a book, upon presentation. The book became a metaphor for hunger and describes it as if it were a journal of life, the days and nights function a log of death. I described the delusion that the poet experienced on the white page as if it were the walls of his room. The verses move freely on the wall, like vanishing points to the opacity of the triplets. The book was in that sense a scratch on the wall, a graffiti. Carmen Berenguer