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My name is Gustavo Mejía and I have lived in so many different places, that I no longer know where I am from. Stumbling about in three continents, I ended up with a family of Latin American parents, a Spanish wife and African sons. When white hair started to leave its mark on a beard I had not shaved in twenty-five years, I preferred to uncover again that which I had struggled to hide: a mouth that was too large; eyes that were too small, and a pair of protuberant ears. My eyebrows have taken the shape of a slightly forced arch, and they always seem tense, in a gesture between curiosity and skepticism: they give my face an air of either distance or harshness, which those who know me better compare to the harshness of the artichoke. I became a language teacher because I love words. I believe words have a life of their own and sometimes I let myself be carried away by them, and that is why some say that I am a liar. They may be right. Particularly so when I speak about myself. |
