Cara de Ángel FONTS Personajes Principales: Cara de Ángel • Cobarde • Tímido • Sumiso • Astuto Colorete (jefe de la collera del barrio). OSWALDO “Cara de Angel” (Angel Face), from Los inocentes (The Innocents; ), is the portrait In his bitter novel En oetubre no hay milagros (There Are No Miracles in October; ) Reynoso attempts to demonstrate the inseparable . Child labour has a gender bias related to the dominant stereotypes regarding gender roles. While out-of-home paid work is carried out predominantly by boys, .

Author: Narisar Mora
Country: Dominican Republic
Language: English (Spanish)
Genre: Life
Published (Last): 27 January 2008
Pages: 287
PDF File Size: 18.73 Mb
ePub File Size: 12.98 Mb
ISBN: 250-6-96571-695-1
Downloads: 36050
Price: Free* [*Free Regsitration Required]
Uploader: Temuro

Very few people were passing through the center of the city. I argued with her, but she got her way in the end, as always. Blush calls him to fight. The others form a ring around them. Workers, vagrants, soldiers and sailors sleep on the grass: I thought you were clean. The afternoon has stopped. They look at you. They call out to you. So Blush not only steals, but he even lives openly with a faggot.

Corsair looks at his ecstatic face. Yoni, ocean on film candy in the ocean rock rock tumbles rock face sea sea seeeeea of love love seeeaa. Why must they always stare at me? Every morning my mom buys for the whole day. Ediciones de la Rama Fe, Finally, they dominate him and take his shoes off, then socks and the three pounds appear, wet and stinky.


They grab him and rummage through his pockets but find no money.

JavaScript is disabled for your browser. Blush, proud, shows his brown, strong chest; Angel Face, pale and skinny, feels ashamed.

Angel Face by Oswaldo Reynoso

A pungent smell of wood, apple transports him into the arms of Gilda. The sour and fiery underarm odor mixes violently, with the soft, damp fog of the lawn.

As I got back, I saw them at the door of my house. He tries to explain the reason for the anger that drives Blush. Or maybe there is natural sympathy, spontaneous. He sweats, opens and closes his fists in despair.

When I tried to get in, Blush grabbed my bike. Blush looks at him with disguised tenderness and expressive disgust. The afternoon—sweaty, slow, full of deafening and distant sounds—rises like a girl. The wind, opaque and warm, lifted yellowish leaves and dirty newspaper pages.

The Chinaman, as if hypnotized, keeps looking at him. Agile, he grabs him by the neck with his legs. You have to smoke, drink, play, steal, skip school, take money from fagsand fuck bitches.

Angel’s face is still pale, his hands in his pockets, waiting for the attack. If you want, look at this picture. Shouts Blush Angel Face is lying on the ground, sideways; He wants to cry. How he wishes that, suddenly, Blush would extend his hand, that the guys would say: Unexpectedly, Angel Face takes his arm and twists it behind his back; he frees his neck and uses the chance to get on top of his rival.


His image was slender and sad, when in profile against the sun. I blame my face for this. Angel Face sees a naked woman grabbing her breasts.

Angel Face by Oswaldo Reynoso

Angel Face takes the dice, spits on them and moves them as if worshiping a mysterious bloody deity. Now, Angel Face is belly down and Blush is riding him, twisting his neck. Angel Face stands up furiously. There was no rage or mockery left in his eyes: When he noticed me looking at him, he Blushed.

Consult here the version in Spanish. An early version of this short story was tailored in a translation workshop I directed in Tijuana, Mexico inthe participants were: