The City Council asked us Monistrol of Montserrat on 27 November, the reading of a manifesto on the occasion of the commemoration of International Day Against Gender Violence.
specifically wrote a text in poetic prose format where absolutely humiliating denounced the atrocities to which they are subjected
s many women and men and children. Cesc Fortuny i Fabre, made an accompanying composition with Tibetan bowls, bells and Zinsha, creating an atmosphere at times distressing and sometimes full of lyricism.
Finally, reading the manifesto was not possible as it was planned, but nevertheless, we decided to make a recording to immortalize, and now I offer it in conjunction with the text.
The manifesto was written in Catalan, so I leave the text in Castilian also for those who do not know the Catalan language.
Per celebrate
the sun does not require permits. Looking good, will see a pair of feet that look like frames in disarray as censorship kisses convicted wrongly of a language fruity, resonant pipes to your house, my house.
dare to look, no bubbles in the corneas or heart espaordit each eyebrow, because there are mirrors that challenge us to pieces, do not let the wings claim their piece of carbon monoxide, are mirrors spit cardinals and leave us stuck in the armpit of a very dark night.
We try to deal with this reality that grow amid the seagulls conjugations purple camouflage, with the course anchored to the sink full of yawns, kisses defeated and repentant mouths at the edge of disaster.
Women, You who nurtured liquid sadness of things, do not resign themselves to walk around all day trying not under the label of pedophile when the sun caresses the grass slowly, not complain.
this?
To celebrate the sun, never permits have not been clarified.
Text and voice: Marian Ramentol Serratosa.
Music recording and production: Fortuny and Cesc Fabre.
November 2010.
To woo the sun is not PRECISAN permissions.
If miramos bien, veremos a couple of feet that apparently Fotogramas in disorder, like kisses censorship convicted wrongly fruity language, echoing through the pipes in your house, my house.
Let us dare to look, no bubbles in the cornea or a terrified heart in each eyebrow, because there are mirrors that challenge us apart, that keep the wings to reclaim their place of carbon monoxide, mirrors that spit cardinals and we nailed in English from a very dark night.
We look ahead that reality where gulls grow amid purple camouflage conjugates, with the direction anchored in the gutters full of yawning, kissing mouths up and repented at the edge of disaster.
it hurts the roof, raw lament watching us with their arms black petals and that unmistakable aroma that gets the usual dumb to speak of himself, and we just doliéndonos also the rigor of their battles.
Looking through the suburbs of the windows we see the strange kindness of the sinks, the remains of rotting touch, peelings of some dreams, the quiet of Broken Glass, the old architecture of a woman's face memorizing the valance of the dishes tellers , convictions, necessary.
With the air awkwardly buried in the eyes, knees, lick a grimy hallway memories, immutable parentheses plastic jars, the sublime silence tour hundreds of times with great decency.
Moisture in the belly and on the walls, beyond the risk of something like love,
like a shroud, hands in the sink like a stone between the lip and lip.
we allow the sun to know a rope to hang himself in his last prayer?
knocking at death. To celebrate the sun, never permits have not been clarified.
Text and voice: Marian Ramentol Serratosa.
Music recording and production: Fortuny and Cesc Fabre.
November 2010.
To woo the sun is not PRECISAN permissions.
If miramos bien, veremos a couple of feet that apparently Fotogramas in disorder, like kisses censorship convicted wrongly fruity language, echoing through the pipes in your house, my house.
Let us dare to look, no bubbles in the cornea or a terrified heart in each eyebrow, because there are mirrors that challenge us apart, that keep the wings to reclaim their place of carbon monoxide, mirrors that spit cardinals and we nailed in English from a very dark night.
We look ahead that reality where gulls grow amid purple camouflage conjugates, with the direction anchored in the gutters full of yawning, kissing mouths up and repented at the edge of disaster.
it hurts the roof, raw lament watching us with their arms black petals and that unmistakable aroma that gets the usual dumb to speak of himself, and we just doliéndonos also the rigor of their battles.
Looking through the suburbs of the windows we see the strange kindness of the sinks, the remains of rotting touch, peelings of some dreams, the quiet of Broken Glass, the old architecture of a woman's face memorizing the valance of the dishes tellers , convictions, necessary.
With the air awkwardly buried in the eyes, knees, lick a grimy hallway memories, immutable parentheses plastic jars, the sublime silence tour hundreds of times with great decency.
Moisture in the belly and on the walls, beyond the risk of something like love,
like a shroud, hands in the sink like a stone between the lip and lip.
we allow the sun to know a rope to hang himself in his last prayer?
Women, you who have sucked the liquid sadness of things, do not resign yourself to walk beneath the day, trying not to label as pederast in the sun when slowly caressing the grass, which does not complain.
The tear in battle array, monochrome plunges by anonymous corpse of a chest, slamming the curtains in the afternoon, and point-blank shot translations of fear of the pores.
Do you allow? To woo the sun, never been specified permissions.
Translation: Marian Ramentol Serratosa.
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