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Thus, amidst the spasms of those who are dying, we hear José Emilio Pacheco in a room full of goblins: “Our world has become disposable,” he said bitterly. “Thus, the most remarkable thing / in the entire planet / is that we garbage makers / are endless grass of the garbage dump.”

At the end of the passage, when the emptiness ends and consciousness begins, the word stops in a place to drink water, the little that finds nests the parasites left by the flight. Breathing weakens, ties the dead trunk of what was once a proud tree.

Recreation of the word. The world does not deserve an analysis. The poem paces round. She signs her loneliness under a moon broken with stones by fanaticism. The slogans of death return from death. A giant, oversized, myopic and dirty eye, tries to lick the souls of the lawless. The present celebrates in the mud stuck to the hooves of the beasts that return from the past.

Dark Night of the Soul, the novel by Carmen Vincenti, is a ghost story in the heat of a tragedy drawn on the central coast of Venezuela, in the days of the landslide that left countless deaths and disappearances while the country was debated in the middle of elections that later showed the true face of death. The country of those days was the scene of a long line of living corpses in a tourist enclave turned into a great graveyard of open graves. An endless line of voices that escapes from the fall of the rocks and the slide of the Avila towards the Guaireña coast.

Vincenti’s novel (publisher the other himself, Mérida, 2005) is a story where frustrated love has its name in a character who changes his face according to the state that nature or the memory of pain crave. Adriana is an existential accident, an accident that establishes a journey in various times and spaces, prolonged by uncertainty.

(The reader, I reader, also a ghost between the pages of a book that runs through the narrative nerve that goes from Caracas to Tanaguarena. Death and love highlight the chapters titled with adverbs of time, place, mode, quantity, negation, doubt …)

Dark Night, name of the poem of San Juan de la Cruz, a friar of the Hispanic Renaissance, founder of the Carmelites, has served Carmen Vincenti to account for a long shadow of mud, stones, screams, whispers and corpses that the known disaster discovered like the Tragedy of the Vargas State.