Status Updates From Piñen

‘The word piñen—from Mapudungun : dust—grime stuck to the skin. The only migrants who weren’t afraid—come live in this—place—as miserable as—ones they’d fled. It was strange how—a kind of communal minga took shape—Here, no time was wasted in profiting off the new renters. Every apartment—partitioned—at least 10 rooms—& they couldn’t complain—language was both a barrier & an ally—In any case, as far as the coke goes—’

‘—its name is Mapocho—To understand—its song, its language, its movement—perhaps we can translate tomorrow—Writing—to recover language, to revive community knowledge—continuity and exile. I carry the river’s voice inside me. My work is a translation of these experiences—of language, silence—diaspora—Perhaps we were just doing the same thing as our ancestors—A fabric of pulses—dormant energies—prayers, and offerings.’

¿Han visto cómo brota la maleza de la tierra seca? (cuento 1)

“la falta de ruido amenazaba el territorio desde lo más profundo de nuestras soledades. De eso se trataba esta mala broma de la colectividad presionada por la aglomeración. La comunidad es otra cosa. Por eso hablábamos gritando de escalera a escalera.