"La lupuna es uno de los más altos del bosque amazónico; tiene un ramaje gallardo y su tallo, de color gris plomizo, está guarnecido en la parte inferior por una especie de aletas triangulares. La lupuna despierta interés a primera vista, y en conjunto, al contemplarlo, produce una sensación de extraña belleza. Como 'tiene madre', los indios no cortan la lupuna. Las hachas y machetes de la tala abatirán porciones de bosque para levantar aldeas, o limpiar campos de siembra de yuca y plátanos, o abrir caminos. La lupuna quedará señoreando. Sobresaldrá en el bosque por su altura y particular conformación. Se hace ver". ​ "Los viejos cocamas previenen a los mozos contra el embrujo de tal voz. Quien la escuche, no debe ir hacia la mujer que la entona, porque no regresará nunca. Unos dicen que muere esperando alcanzar a la hermosa y otros que ella los convierte en árbol. Cualquiera que fuese su destino, ningún joven cocama que siguió a la voz fascinante, soñando con ganar a la bella, regresó jamás". Alegría, "La sirena del bosque". En los confines de la locura, dentro de los muros de insania también habita el Aleph. Las imágenes de esta sección están dedicadas a quienes escuchan el canto de la sirena del bosque… a aquellos que han vivido en los sanatorios mentales de Sibaté, Colombia… a aquellos en quienes la locura de alguna manera se ha manifestado, pues de ellos es también el reino del Aleph. *** "The lupuna is one of the tallest trees in the Amazon forest; it has graceful branches and its trunk, of leaden gray color, has triangular fins at its base... The lupuna is attractive at first sight and generally, after looking at it for a while, produces a sensation of strange beauty. Since 'it has mother', the Indians do not cut the lupuna. Their axes and machetes are used for chopping, knocking down parts of the forest to build villages, or to clear fields for planting yucca and bananas, or to open paths... The lupuna will stay dominating. Anyway, since they are not cut, they stand out in the forest because of their height and particular shape. They are very visible." ​ "The old Cocamas prevents the young men from falling under the spell of the voice. Whoever listens should not approach the singing woman, because they will never return.  Some say that they died waiting to reach the beautiful and others that she turns them into tree. Anyone who thought her out, any young Cocamas that followed the fascinating voice, dreaming of winning the beautiful, never returned." Alegría, "The Siren of the Forest." In the confines of madness, inside the walls of insanity also inhabits the Aleph. The images of this section are dedicated to those who listen to the song of the siren of the forest... those who have lived in the mental sanatoriums of Sibaté, Colombia... those in whom madness somehow manifests itself because of them also is the kingdom of the Aleph. "Allá hallarás mi querencia. El lugar que yo quise. Donde los sueños me enflaquecieron. Mi pueblo, levantado sobre la llanura. Lleno de árboles y de hojas como una alcancía donde hemos guardado nuestros recuerdos. Sentirás que allí uno quisiera vivir para la eternidad. El amanecer; la mañana; el mediodía y la noche, siempre los mismos; pero con la diferencia del aire. Allí, donde el aire cambia el color de las cosas; donde se ventila la vida como si fuera un murmullo; como si fuera un puro murmullo de la vida". Rulfo, Pedro Páramo, 1955. El cementerio no es lugar exclusivo de la muerte ni de la ausencia. Allí habitan los espíritus que no dejamos y que no nos dejan partir... es el lugar de la permanencia. Pedro Páramo, de Juan Rulfo, camina por entre los senderos de los cementerios de Sibaté, mi pueblo en Colombia, y de Mankato, y en su recorrido él no reconoce las diferencia de lugar… aquí/allí todo se repite, pero nada es igual… y de nuevo, en estas imágenes encuentro el Aleph. ​​*** ​ "This town is full of echoes. It seems like they are caught in the cracks of the walls, or under the stones. When you are walking, it seems like they follow your steps. You hear crackling, and laughter. Some laughs are quite old, as though they are tired of laughing. And voices that are worn out from being used so long. You hear all this. Some day the time will come when these sounds fade away." "There you will find my favorite place. The place that I wanted, where dreams protected me. My town, nestled on the plain, shaded with trees and leaves, like a piggy bank where we kept our memories. You’ll see why a person would want to live there for an eternity. The dawn, the morning, the afternoon, and the night, were always the same; except for changes in the air. The air changes the color of things there; where life whirs by as if it were a murmur; as if it were a pure murmur of life." Rulfo, Pedro Paramo, 1955. The cemetery is not an exclusive place of death or absence. This is where those spirits  that we do not let go, inhabit... It is the place of eternal permanence. Juan Rulfo's Pedro Paramo walks among the paths of the cemeteries of Sibaté, my hometown in Colombia, and Mankato, and in his travel he does not recognize the difference of place and time... here/there everything repeats itself, but nothing is the same... and again, in the images of this section I find the Aleph. In the confines of madness, inside the walls of insanity also inhabits the Aleph. The images of this section are dedicated to those who listen to the song of the siren of the forest... those who have lived in the mental sanatoriums of Sibaté, Colombia... those in whom madness somehow manifests itself because of them also is the kingdom of the Aleph.