rejuvenated

In times of hypersensitivity to the appropriation of other people's speeches and the interference caused by sign language;

times of segregation as a form of respect and as a commercial strategy —juvenile literature, supplements for men and/or women, trips for the elderly—;

times in which intergenerational, intercultural or interracial mixes and conversations are difficult other than those of the United Colors of a fashion emporium —I prefer not to talk about dialogue between classes today—, in these adverse conditions, I am going to write about youth without be young or have offspring.

My dealings with those under 30 years of age take place in talks at institutes and universities.

It is curious to see how talking about one's own experience is considered an act of egocentric and neoliberal individualism,

and simultaneously, if your experience is based only on observation, you are blamed for not knowing what you are talking about.

gags.

When I was young, I felt like an adult and strong woman, and now, that I am a mature woman, fragilities that I did not see before are revealed to me: it will be that I have had time to get to know myself better.

I write with the doubt of whether lucidity is achieved in the eye of the hurricane or on its periphery.

Whether what legitimizes my writing is looking from a distance or from the incandescent core of the conflict.

There is always smoke.

I write from the memory and observation of particular human beings.

Maybe I've had time to get to know myself better.

I write with the doubt of whether lucidity is achieved in the eye of the hurricane or on its periphery.

Whether what legitimizes my writing is looking from a distance or from the incandescent core of the conflict.

There is always smoke.

I write from the memory and observation of particular human beings.

Maybe I've had time to get to know myself better.

I write with the doubt of whether lucidity is achieved in the eye of the hurricane or on its periphery.

Whether what legitimizes my writing is looking from a distance or from the incandescent core of the conflict.

There is always smoke.

I write from the memory and observation of particular human beings.

I give a talk in a provincial capital.

A young university student introduces me.

He is an extroverted uninhibited lyricist—rhyme consonant—who tells me about his homoerotic orgies in the surroundings of a department store.

“Every gay man in town knows it,” he informs me.

We talked about literature and methods of prevention of sexually transmitted diseases.

The young man tells me that his mother cleans houses and, when she gets to hers, she is so tired that she doesn't feel like lifting a finger.

So the son, who knows that her mother likes literature, picks up a book and reads aloud to her.

Every day.

The young man claims his sexual freedom in a hostile territory.

He studies.

Takes care.

I look at this young man with a gratitude perhaps smaller than the one he feels for his mother.

"Actually, I'm an old man," he tells me.

Overlaps.

Metamorphosis.

I notice his classic suit.

Youth is condemned to a premature old age, which coincides with the eternal childhood of Peter Pan —the lack of a future, the impossibility of flying beyond fantasy—, while the old ladies are not allowed to enjoy a peaceful old age because the pension fund is depleted and the birth rate is sinking for obvious reasons: Peter Pan can't fuck.

Nor adopt.

He doesn't have a house or a job.

Older people see how identity is confused with the advertising splendor of our youth and old age seems like a dirty disguise.

But being beautiful and stretched is just an excuse: older people will work almost forever, rejuvenated on the outside, decalcified on the inside.

The contribution is not enough to retire or what is left is not enough to guarantee the offspring a certain illusion of youth.

The intergenerational struggle is used to sell tracksuits, but when there is no money, the studious sons and the cleaning mothers sail in the same boat.

Unless the son gives up being a scholar and becomes a gossip commentator.

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