From the start to the beginning

A few weeks ago I moved and, as in growing up there are things that stay and things that go, I decided to donate some of my toys and books; so I set off with my backpack and my old shoes. I left my house together with Mara to leave our mark on the earth and, perhaps unintentionally, also on minds. But what I least expected was that Mara and I would be left with a memory. 

I live in Marinilla, a town in Antioquia, Colombia; here it is proudly known as the Colombian Sparta, where in times of revolution the people fought with strategy and daring, where liberators like José María Córdova died. And I, together with Mara, the youngest daughter of Alfredo Mires, with the intention of brightening up the afternoon for some children with toys, perhaps some with a book, walked the streets where many years ago one of the cradles of freedom germinated, without thinking much about what all that observing and asking questions can change in me.

I carried my backpack full of books, some of which I had not read and others that I had read more than 3 times and, after walking for a few hours through the rural areas and bookshops of Marinilla, we arrived at "A Place of the Mark - Coffee-Books". This is a unique café in the village, because to get there you have to go through a narrow corridor, up some stairs and be careful, because on every step, shelf, chair, table and even on the floor there is at least one book waiting for you.

So, tired and cold, we had a coffee, Mara looked at some of the books that were on the shelves; there were books on history, comedy, literature, even dictionaries, but, curiously and almost magically, she managed to see the spine of a book - one that looked familiar to her. Without thinking too much she took it and saw that it was Qayaqpuma, volume four - written by Alfredo Mires. It took us even a moment to believe that from her hands it had come to ours, that from the beginning of the Network, it had come to our beginning.

Together we travelled the town, the streets and the bookshops, but what was the path this book took to get here? To us? Maybe its story is simpler and shorter than I think, but maybe this book was also in a backpack like mine, maybe the person who left it there, travelled through Peru, crossed Colombia and arrived in that small town, maybe this book also travelled through streets that at some point were filled with glory and longing, maybe this person had a coffee like mine and let go of what Alfredo wrote so that it could reach other minds, so that it could change what is observed.

Mateo Oquendo Velásquez