sábado, 28 de febrero de 2026

Entrevista en la tierra de Tibéria: "Martirio", capítulo LXIIILXIII



 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lM36Wr-4zfM


... Y supe que, mi nombre, mi historia y mis fantasmas quedarían ligados a Tibéria por siempre.
Ustedes, a quienes les confié mis secretos, les digo: ¡ya ha llegado el momento! Vivan la vida, sean felices y amen a sus seres queridos, a sus seres queridos. Y ahora, a medianoche, resuenan las voces e intento deslindar lo que es el olvido. Nada dura eternamente; ni siquiera el Amor. Me pregunto si llorarán mi partida. No lo sé. Doy los últimos cinco pasos al altar de la capilla…
—Haré una oración por tu descanso eterno —entonces se voltea.
«¿Una oración? No, eso no servirá.», quiero decir; sin embargo… «¿Quién soy yo para juzgar a la Muerte?»

 

…And I knew that my name, my story, and my ghosts would be bound to Tibéria forever.
You, to whom I entrusted my secrets, I say: the time has come! Live your lives, be happy, and love your loved ones, your loved ones. And now, at midnight, the voices resound and I try to discern what belongs to oblivion. Nothing lasts forever; not even Love. I wonder if they will weep at my departure. I do not know. I take the final five steps toward the chapel altar…
— I will say a prayer for your eternal rest — then he turns around.
“A prayer? No, that will not suffice,” I want to say; however… “Who am I to judge Death?”


…Et je sus que mon nom, mon histoire et mes fantômes resteraient liés à Tibéria pour toujours.
Vous, à qui j’ai confié mes secrets, je vous le dis : le moment est arrivé ! Vivez la vie, soyez heureux et aimez vos proches, vos proches. Et maintenant, à minuit, les voix résonnent et j’essaie de discerner ce qui appartient à l’oubli. Rien ne dure éternellement ; pas même l’Amour. Je me demande s’ils pleureront mon départ. Je ne sais pas. Je fais les cinq derniers pas vers l’autel de la chapelle…
— Je dirai une prière pour ton repos éternel — alors il se retourne.
« Une prière ? Non, cela ne suffira pas », ai-je envie de dire ; cependant… « Qui suis-je pour juger la Mort ? »


…Und ich wusste, dass mein Name, meine Geschichte und meine Geister für immer mit Tibéria verbunden sein würden.
Euch, denen ich meine Geheimnisse anvertraut habe, sage ich: Die Zeit ist gekommen! Lebt das Leben, seid glücklich und liebt eure Liebsten, eure Liebsten. Und nun, um Mitternacht, hallen die Stimmen wider und ich versuche zu unterscheiden, was dem Vergessen gehört. Nichts dauert ewig; nicht einmal die Liebe. Ich frage mich, ob sie meinen Abschied beweinen werden. Ich weiß es nicht. Ich gehe die letzten fünf Schritte zum Altar der Kapelle…
— Ich werde ein Gebet für deine ewige Ruhe sprechen — dann dreht er sich um.
„Ein Gebet? Nein, das wird nicht genügen“, möchte ich sagen; doch… „Wer bin ich, über den Tod zu urteilen?“


…И я понял(а), что моё имя, моя история и мои призраки навсегда будут связаны с Тиберией.
Вам, кому я доверил(а) свои тайны, говорю: время пришло! Живите, будьте счастливы и любите своих близких, своих близких. И теперь, в полночь, раздаются голоса, и я пытаюсь отделить то, что есть забвение. Ничто не длится вечно; даже Любовь. Я спрашиваю себя, будут ли они оплакивать мой уход. Я не знаю. Я делаю последние пять шагов к алтарю часовни…
— Я прочитаю молитву за твой вечный покой, — и он оборачивается.
«Молитву? Нет, это не поможет», — хочу сказать я; однако… «Кто я, чтобы судить Смерть?»


…そして私は、自分の名前も、物語も、そして亡霊も、永遠にティベリアと結びつくのだと悟った。
私が秘密を託したあなたたちに告げる――時は来た!人生を生き、幸せになり、愛する人たちを、愛する人たちを愛しなさい。今、真夜中に声が響き渡り、私はそれが忘却なのかを見極めようとする。永遠に続くものはない。愛でさえも。彼らは私の旅立ちに涙するだろうか。わからない。私は礼拝堂の祭壇へ最後の五歩を進む…。
— あなたの永遠の安らぎのために祈ろう —— そう言って彼は振り向く。
「祈り? いや、それでは足りない」と言いたい。しかし……「死を裁く資格が私にあるのだろうか?」


……我知道,我的名字、我的故事以及我的幽灵将永远与提贝里亚相连。
你们——我曾将秘密托付给你们的人——我说:时刻已经到来!去生活,去幸福,去爱你们所爱的人,你们所爱的人。如今,在午夜,声音回荡,我试图分辨何为遗忘。没有什么是永恒的;甚至连爱也不是。我想知道他们是否会为我的离去而哭泣。我不知道。我走向小教堂祭坛的最后五步……
——我会为你的永恒安息祈祷——然后他转过身。
“祈祷?不,那不会有用。”我想说;然而……“我又是谁,竟敢评判死亡?”


…그리고 나는 나의 이름과 나의 이야기, 그리고 나의 유령들이 영원히 티베리아와 묶이게 되리라는 것을 알았다.
내가 비밀을 맡긴 여러분에게 말한다. 때가 왔다! 삶을 살고, 행복해지고, 사랑하는 이들을, 사랑하는 이들을 사랑하라. 그리고 이제 자정에 목소리들이 울려 퍼지고, 나는 그것이 망각인지 가려내려 한다. 영원한 것은 없다. 사랑조차도. 그들이 나의 떠남에 울게 될까. 나는 알지 못한다. 나는 예배당 제단으로 마지막 다섯 걸음을 내딛는다…
— 너의 영원한 안식을 위해 기도하겠다 — 그러고는 그가 돌아선다.
“기도라고? 아니, 그것으로는 충분하지 않아.”라고 말하고 싶다. 그러나… “죽음을 판단할 내가 누구인가?”


…और मुझे ज्ञात हुआ कि मेरा नाम, मेरी कहानी और मेरे भूत सदा के लिए तिबेरिया से जुड़े रहेंगे।
तुम्हें, जिन्हें मैंने अपने रहस्य सौंपे, मैं कहता/कहती हूँ: समय आ गया है! जीवन जियो, खुश रहो और अपने प्रियजनों से प्रेम करो, अपने प्रियजनों से। और अब, आधी रात में, आवाज़ें गूंजती हैं और मैं यह अलग करने की कोशिश करता/करती हूँ कि क्या विस्मृति है। कुछ भी सदा नहीं रहता; प्रेम भी नहीं। मैं सोचता/सोचती हूँ कि क्या वे मेरे प्रस्थान पर रोएँगे। मुझे नहीं पता। मैं प्रार्थनालय की वेदी की ओर अंतिम पाँच कदम बढ़ाता/बढ़ाती हूँ…
— मैं तुम्हारी शाश्वत शांति के लिए प्रार्थना करूँगा/करूँगी — फिर वह मुड़ता है।
“प्रार्थना? नहीं, उससे कुछ नहीं होगा,” मैं कहना चाहता/चाहती हूँ; किंतु… “मैं कौन हूँ जो मृत्यु का न्याय करूँ?”


…E soube que meu nome, minha história e meus fantasmas ficariam ligados a Tibéria para sempre.
A vocês, a quem confiei meus segredos, digo: chegou o momento! Vivam a vida, sejam felizes e amem seus entes queridos, seus entes queridos. E agora, à meia-noite, as vozes ressoam e tento distinguir o que é o esquecimento. Nada dura eternamente; nem mesmo o Amor. Pergunto-me se chorarão minha partida. Não sei. Dou os últimos cinco passos até o altar da capela…
— Farei uma oração pelo teu descanso eterno — então ele se vira.
“Uma oração? Não, isso não bastará”, quero dizer; contudo… “Quem sou eu para julgar a Morte?”


…Og jeg visste at mitt navn, min historie og mine spøkelser for alltid ville være knyttet til Tibéria.
Dere, som jeg betrodde mine hemmeligheter til, sier jeg: tiden er kommet! Lev livet, vær lykkelige og elsk deres kjære, deres kjære. Og nå, ved midnatt, gjenlyder stemmene, og jeg prøver å skille det som er glemsel. Ingenting varer evig; ikke engang Kjærligheten. Jeg lurer på om de vil gråte over min avreise. Jeg vet ikke. Jeg tar de siste fem skrittene mot kapellets alter…
— Jeg vil be en bønn for din evige hvile — så snur han seg.
«En bønn? Nei, det vil ikke være nok», vil jeg si; men… «Hvem er jeg til å dømme Døden?»


…E seppi che il mio nome, la mia storia e i miei fantasmi sarebbero rimasti legati a Tibéria per sempre.
A voi, ai quali ho affidato i miei segreti, dico: è giunto il momento! Vivete la vita, siate felici e amate i vostri cari, i vostri cari. E ora, a mezzanotte, risuonano le voci e cerco di distinguere ciò che è oblio. Nulla dura eternamente; nemmeno l’Amore. Mi chiedo se piangeranno la mia partenza. Non lo so. Compio gli ultimi cinque passi verso l’altare della cappella…
— Farò una preghiera per il tuo riposo eterno — poi si volta.
«Una preghiera? No, non servirà», vorrei dire; tuttavia… «Chi sono io per giudicare la Morte?»


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lM36Wr-4zfM


Joseph:
Good afternoon (1:23). Today we are here with a second interview regarding a very important figure in the city (0:51). He is a writer who has taken on various themes, including life and death (1:01). That is why today we find ourselves at the Central Cemetery (1:08). This is a space where different inspirations arise to generate these writings, which are highly interesting, and we are going to discuss them throughout the interview (1:08). So please, introduce yourself (1:23).
Luis Carlos Roa Gil:
Good afternoon (1:23). My name is Luis Carlos Roa Gil (1:23). I am an inhabitant of the city of Tunja (1:23). I am a writer, though let us say that is one of many monickers or names by which a person can be referenced (1:33). I am an inhabitant, I am a narrator (1:42). In this very special space, we are going to talk a bit about the creative process (1:42). I truly appreciate the opportunity and the moment (1:51). Thank you very much (1:51).
Joseph:
Thank you very much, Luis Carlos (1:57). When I began reading your works, I found them very interesting because they are not ordinary themes, but many people can relate and feel an affinity towards them (1:57). I am one of those people (2:04). I particularly enjoyed the different aspects of how you carry your narrative and where you want to direct it (2:11). There is a motivation for doing things in every person (2:11). For me, it was a motivation to film the video here in the cemetery (2:22). We needed to do it in the cemetery because it is where the majority of this writer's works are composed, or also where certain emotions and feelings are transmitted (2:27). Therefore, what is your motivation for writing? What is your motivation for surrounding it with these beautiful environments (2:34)?
Luis Carlos Roa Gil:
Writing does not solely stem from a prior motivation (2:44). Writing is to resist; it is to transcend (2:53). In this space where we stand, death, life, and also history converge (2:53). Tunja, or this land that befell us, this city, this department, this Colombia with its violence, its ghosts, its reminiscences, is part of us (3:02). Writing is to resist, but also to leave a legacy for the future (3:11). In those terms, in a primary sense, writing is evidently leaving a mark (3:21). Perhaps at first one is not aware of it, but as time passes, works are made with artists from the region, and this space is captured (3:21). The people watching us in the near or distant future will know there was a Tunja, a Boyacá, a Colombia with these characteristics: with the violence, the life, and the death, which is the only certain thing we have (3:41).
So, the motivation beyond portraying is to leave a mark (3:56). Leaving a mark not only from an artistic perspective but also a vital one (3:56). In this case, one can transcend in several ways (4:04). One transcends through writings; one transcends through works (4:13). There are people who transcend through their inheritance (4:13). In my case, it would be through writings that take shape in this neighbourhood called Las Nieves, extending to Tunja, which brings us to this highly significant and magical space (4:13).
Joseph:
Splendid (4:30). I believe this will serve, perhaps when we are dead, for future generations and different people, as Luis Carlos rightly notes, so that we may leave a certain mark (4:30). Some people call it recognition; other people simply want to offer a sort of help, whilst others wish to generate a legacy without necessarily intending to do so (4:47). That is what I have observed as a pattern normally in many figures who transcend into history; they were not highly valued in life, but in death, they are (4:55). It is rather ironical (5:09).
These texts you create, given that you mention Las Nieves as the place where the entire environment originates and surrounds various aspects—narratives are created from different inspirations, such as cultural and literary elements (5:09). Are these authors you read, the films you watch, or what you commonly do, what inspires you to write (5:25)?
Luis Carlos Roa Gil:
It is not solely the people one has read or seen what they have created (5:47). In my case, and I believe it to be so, training is self-taught (5:56). One learns from those who came before (6:03). In my case as a writer, I reference the authors who once accompanied my solitude (6:03). Writing began in childhood, continued through adolescence, and well, after so many books written and completed, one wonders: why? Why are life and death so important (6:13)? Why are the fears we feel so important (6:21)? In my case, it is not death; death comes to everyone (6:30). It is like a book; a book must have an end (6:30). It would be ridiculous, a bit ironical, if a book had no end and were infinite (6:36). Life is like that (6:43).
I fear time more (6:43). Watching your loved ones die, watching oneself grow old (6:43). But that is the value given to life, that it is unique and irrecoverable (6:50). Everything learnt in the craft from different writers deeply catches my attention (6:55). In fact, yesterday would have been the birthday, if he were alive—immortal—of Edgar Allan Poe, or Julio Cortázar (7:04). If I name them, they are quite numerous, but of course, since I was small, I was reading a great deal in sites as emblematic as this, the Central Cemetery of Tunja, and the neighbourhood of Las Nieves, where the cemetery, the asylum, the Muisca Park—badly called Las Nieves—the Próspero Pinzón Park where a library is located, which is also a very interesting site, and the Convent of San Agustín all come together (7:13).
All spaces narrate something, and the people who have been in those spaces are also present there (7:42). They might be present at the moment, or those who have already departed as well, because that is very interesting (7:50). Each person, though we do not perceive it that way because we become very consumerist, don't we? That is to say, the society of consumerism, of the immediate, wanting everything right now (7:58). But that creation you see from an artist, or even industrial creations—not everything is dehumanised—there are people who put their little grain of love into it, if we may call it that (8:11). They want to leave that part of their mark (8:20). What you mentioned earlier: the parks, each area, someone at the time exerted a massive effort to try and give their best to create it (8:28).
Joseph:
When you begin this creative process, which you mention started in childhood, this process is generated by fragments (8:38). In your book, Martirio, from which we will read some highly interesting fragments later, there is a part that says: "As I was a child, a mirror given to me broke, and I began to see different fragments in the mirror." (8:47) So I related that to the fragments of the heteronyms you handle (9:08). Would it be that way? Why write in fragments (9:16)?
Luis Carlos Roa Gil:
Life is not linear, though time appears to be so (9:24). One day we are here, and we perceive this space differently, depending also on the sensation and the time that corresponds to us (9:24). Yes, indeed, that fragment from the novel Martirio, the last novel I wrote, speaks of that glass breaking into fragments and showing different universes, because life is like that (9:31). Not everything is grey, not everything is black, not everything is white (9:50). But it is also referenced to "what if?" (9:57) What if, for example, our parents had not met? We would not be here at this moment, or perhaps we would exist with other characteristics; we would be different people (9:57). Narrating from that perspective of fragments allows us to have multiple voices (10:12). And yes, indeed, these are the heteronyms handled in the latest book, which are also present in the other graphic novels (10:23).
Joseph:
Right (10:23). And that form, because when I started doing these interviews, a main source of comments brought something I expected: people saying you will be the example for different things (10:23). Sometimes we are good examples or bad examples, depending on the subjective view (10:51). But what form of doing things by fragments would be the good and the bad? Why do it this way (10:51)? Why compile all those fragments for Martirio? Because Martirio is a compilation of fragments to achieve a sort of narrative linearity (11:03).
Luis Carlos Roa Gil:
Martirio happens to be the father of the other books (11:17). Martirio is a novel that takes the city of Tunja as its base, but also the department and life (11:17). From that novel, other stories fragment, which are Elegía, Nostalgia, Aura (11:26). Let us say these latest novels are like the daughters of Martirio, which detach from there (11:33). That is to say, I have tried, and I believe I have achieved it—I do not wish to sound pretentious, let alone say I write literature... (11:42)
Joseph:
It is a good book (11:48). It is a good book (11:54).
Luis Carlos Roa Gil:
Thank you, my friend (11:54). To pretend that one writes literature seems a bit egocentric (11:54). However, I created a mythology referenced from something real, fragmented of course, because there is poetry, narrative, realism, and romanticism (11:54). Not everything can be linear; hence the fragments, the memories (12:04). From my facet as a schoolmaster, let us say as a teacher, fragmentation serves as a narrative resource (12:15).
I will give you an example (12:24). This space is important to me because since childhood I walked among these tombs, read the headstones, and perhaps that love began for the sombre, the impious, the heretical, but also the sacred (12:24). Here conflates all of this: seeing the burials, seeing the important figures who have arrived here, and how one can write based on that (12:43). The trees, the headstones, the loved ones, my own family buried here (12:51). Within the narrative exercises, once whilst running in the cemetery, I ran after the cats that were around here and the crows in the trees (13:00). They are no longer seen; there are not as many due to the massification of many aspects present here (13:10).
But once I fell and got a scar I carry up here—it has faded now—and I remember exactly what music was playing at that moment, what was in the news, the violence at that time (13:24). It is a way of writing, but also of portraying something of childhood and adolescence (13:39). I tell my students: write, think of a scar you have, and think of that moment (13:51). "I got this scar in such a way, playing football, I fell, I split my head open." (13:51) What was fashionable? What was on television (13:59)? Were your parents alive? What loved ones were still present (14:08)? That remits us to a past for a subsequent future and allows us to say: "Of course, I find value in my childhood, the music, and the memories in scars." (14:08) Therefore, they are doors to our past (14:25).
Joseph:
Interesting (14:25). And it would not only be physical scars, but mental or emotional ones (14:25).
Luis Carlos Roa Gil:
Exactly, it is a wound that closes over time (14:25). Sometimes we think we are alone, that we have no way out, and resorting to death whilst being alive does not seem very intelligent to me (14:35). One must live, live as much as possible, bear in mind what we have close by and what we have lost, and be very strong in that sense (14:43). The best way to live well is to know we are going to die, because in the philosophical aspect, Stoicism is heavily based on that (14:53). Many people live as if they were never going to die (15:08). Are you sure about that (15:08)? It can happen tomorrow (15:08). Yesterday precisely, I was rethinking some writings of one of the authors who catches my attention most; he died very young, Albert Camus, regarding the absurdity of life, but it is absurd yet it must be lived, and let us live it well because it is unique and irrecoverable (15:14).
Joseph:
Indeed (15:30). Subsequently, there are good moments and bad moments like everything (15:30). Really, as with the other videos I make, and I thank many for the comments they provide me, having good moments and bad moments is fine, it is normal (15:38). Immersing oneself in certain moments depends also on the worth one draws out of what is human (15:45). That is why I liked the text so much (15:56). Starting the text, it is already a good moment to begin with the initial phrase that enchanted me (16:03). In this piece of the book, it says: "Life is miserable, death is my yearning. She awaits me at the threshold of the chapel, but before departing to her shelter, I should like to explain why I am here. It is misfortune." (16:03)
One starts reading this and thinks: "Well, here we go into something very sombre." (16:21) But in the course of the book, it is not actually like that (16:21). Life has different nuances; there are good things, there are bad things (16:28). What you are telling me reflects that, because the heteronyms used—one friendlier life, another harsher—are directly reflected in the same thing you tell the students and what the book mentions with loved ones (16:28). This generates a turning point in something that is highly important for me to highlight here, which is that scars are portals, or we can view it that way (16:49). Those portals allow us to reinterpret history, handling it in different ways, in a friendlier manner towards the future when we ponder it and say: "Probably it was not so bad," or "At the time we did it, I think it could have been worse." (16:59) Various aspects (17:18). Those fragments you take to create the stories, to make your memories, do you tend to reinterpret them, to recount reality completely, or to generate something beyond reality (17:18)?
Luis Carlos Roa Gil:
Beyond reality, it is looking at fiction (17:30). Fiction is not as cruel as reality (17:30). In the case mentioned previously, Martirio, the novel begins at the end (17:38). The reader will find that it begins at the end and finishes in this very site (17:46). And if there are heteronyms, which are multiple voices, one finds the voice of the child, the melancholic child who has grown up with a family, with his mother and without his father (17:53). One also finds the more mature man who is perhaps at the limit of fatality (18:04). There are real people, and in that case, my intention is not to validate bad deeds or good ones; it is to portray a society (18:11). Sometimes people think writers or artists are validating something, and it is not necessarily so, but rather portraying the why (18:21). The why one must live, and live well (18:40).
The why is that one can be a good example, evidently, but one will be the bad guy in someone's story and never know it, and vice versa (18:40). But well, those are things that escape one's hands, yet they are there (18:54). And yes, of course, in those writings, those highly interesting exercises of fragmentation have been performed, writing from the distance of Tunja, outside Tunja, writing again once in the capital, and reassembling it to create something more interesting in this latest book (18:54). This latest book is three books in one; they were compiled, and the work of Martirio remained (19:14).
Joseph:
When we have those fragments and pass through life, everything composes us through it: the people and the places, or these moments (19:14). Just now when you were speaking and saying how sometimes we relate places with something different depending on what we have lived, that makes me think of this: normally the cemetery is a sadder place, but at this moment it is an entertaining place, or I am viewing it that way (19:29). At the moment of you writing, and for people who also want to write, follow your steps, or at least have an idea, would that be applicable as well? Combining that reality and that illusion, as you say reality sometimes surpasses fiction, and you mention it in the book several times (19:43)? So it would be good to take it and portray things to improve what we experience in reality (20:07). That is to say, me writing and seeing things with the hard and crude reality, but to improve, can it also be taken from writing (20:13)?
Luis Carlos Roa Gil:
If we analyse a text, at least in what I intend to write, it is not solely a romantic text, it is also realistic (20:32). One can portray even a landscape like this, not as sombre, but the memory of loved ones who have departed (20:40). In other cultures, they do it that way, don't they? There is a day where they celebrate, remember the dead, those people who left and who are stars or lights in the life of another person (20:48).
It is similar to music (21:03). The same happens with metal (21:09). In my case, Black Metal catches my attention significantly (21:09). And why does it catch my attention? Because they are lyrics heavily referenced in my writings (21:16). In the epilogue of the book Martirio, there is a part where that is discussed (21:16).
Joseph:
Black Metal, yes, I remember seeing it (21:23). There are many highly interesting references, and it is beautiful to be able to experience the city through the eyes of other people (21:30). I believe that is what I liked most, and being able to understand that there are different people who want to give their best to achieve it (21:38). There always is, in fact, you can do it at this moment, but you also need to generate a creation and not expect everyone else to do it for you (21:45). That is very important (21:53).
The interpretation given through the person receiving the message is being able to transmit it in a simple way, or how life is something we can see with good and bad things, or that life is so complex that it cannot even be transmitted within a book (22:01). I believe that also depends on the moment one is living, doesn't it (22:27)? Sometimes one sees plenty of problems when one is an adolescent; wait until you grow up to know that... (22:27)
Luis Carlos Roa Gil:
Exactly (22:41). Yesterday I remembered precisely one of the heteronyms from the book, named David, who happens to be a version of myself in the book (22:41). The others are people who exist or existed, but David is referenced to my childhood (22:51). In the year 2001, he was deeply marked by a concert of a metal group, Iron Maiden, Rock in Rio 2001 (23:00). And he said: "I was 14 years old, and this year I am going to be 40." (23:08) How one changes through music and tastes to grow as a person (23:16).
In my case, it is referenced by, firstly, literature; secondly, anime and Japanese manga; thirdly, Heavy Metal and martial arts, especially Karate (23:16). If we take everything we like as an exercise and speak about it, something interesting can emerge, something highly interesting (23:32). Anyone can write, and whoever takes the time to write is quite significant (23:39). A person who reads and writes is worthy of respect, in my opinion (23:47).
Joseph:
Okay, so well, it is something rather interesting because the composition of what you have just said is what we ought to contribute as humans (23:47). Each of us is special in our own way and we have distinct visions of the world that can clash with some other people, making coexistence a bit difficult (24:05). But being able to understand that we are all going to end up, in this case for example, in the cemetery, where there is no distinction—beyond them making you a super tomb, you remain dead (24:13)...
Luis Carlos Roa Gil:
But there were distinctions anciently (24:26). In fact, cemeteries have an interesting history because people who had money were buried in churches, meaning closer to the altar they had to be buried (24:26).
Joseph:
But they remain dead, they take nothing to the grave (24:43).
Luis Carlos Roa Gil:
And poor people were in sites similar to this (24:43). That is why this cemetery is so interesting from both the historical and narrative aspects (24:50). The stories—I shall not reveal a spoiler regarding the stories—but in Martirio you will find very many stories of this cemetery, but mind you, with different names (24:58). I should like to be precise in that sense, because Tunja is not Tunja but Tiberia (25:06). If a person knows Tiberia is Tunja, they will know Valladora is Boyacá, and Castilla, for Castilian, is Colombia (25:15).
The names referenced in some of my books are changed, not only to omit or avoid copyright issues or any sort of trouble, but it is a resource used to see how it sounds, based on the etymology of language, reconstructed tongues such as the approach to indigenous languages, etcetera (25:22). And well, the events that arise in a place as important and respectable as this, of course (25:45).
Joseph:
Yes, it is true (25:54). It always happened, even with the indigenous people; those considered gods at the time had super sacrifices made to them and so forth, but they remain dead (25:54). The main theme in the work, the writings, and the fragments—because you also have a blog where you post part of the poems or different writings—many are related to death (26:02). It is harsh material, but why is it so harsh if the majority of people are experiencing that day by day, and it is an assured destiny we have (26:19)? Why would that theme be persistent in your motivation? You said you had started to like writing since very small (26:33). Clearly, when you were small you did not have—well, I say clearly, but it could be that you did have this motivation from the beginning regarding death (26:42). How was that process from purely small until later beginning to focus on the central theme of death (26:50)?
Luis Carlos Roa Gil:
One tends to copy the people one admires (26:56). In my case, it is no exception (27:05). But it is not solely the themes of death and life; time, above all time, is such an interesting factor and such a valuable theme present in all cultures (27:05). When we speak of science fiction, wanting to return to a past that no longer exists, what will the future be like? In this moment, in this space where we are, 100 years from now, will this space exist exactly as it is (27:12)? Probably not (27:27). We will be viewed from the future, and we shall be spectres or ghosts to them (27:34).
If we speak of death, we speak of life; it is inherent (27:34). It is inherent to cultures, religions, and everything present in experiences and memories (27:43). Evidently, it is fragmented in small spaces with accompanying photos (27:49). I like photography as well (27:59). On the literature blog, Remembranzas y Literatura, I do not know what to think about the fact that it is read more by people from abroad than by Colombians themselves (27:59). It is hard because culture in the department, and especially in Tunja, is lacking in what is valuable to others (28:10). There are writers who starve, artists who are in stimulus calls, and if they lived off that, or if I lived off it... well, truly no (28:19). That is why I am a schoolmaster, I am a teacher (28:32).
And yes, on the literature blog, fragments are found not only in my mother tongue, but in other languages, the languages that by hazards of fate—well, fate one forges oneself—are in English and French, which are the languages I handle or learnt at university (28:32). The curious thing is that I learnt English, learnt French—I am polishing them obviously, especially the latter still—and I returned to my mother tongue



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Interview - Entretien

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