<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3680498294071532469</id><updated>2012-02-16T08:50:14.571-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Desde el silencio</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://florenciabarqui.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3680498294071532469/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://florenciabarqui.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Florencia Barqui.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11128805713468447297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>19</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3680498294071532469.post-8053501215117004587</id><published>2008-07-23T12:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-23T12:08:35.319-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Ya no cabe,&lt;br /&gt;tampoco en mí,&lt;br /&gt;la idea de la ausencia.&lt;br /&gt;Dije ni la idea, ni ella.&lt;br /&gt;Tampoco la boca, ni su auxiliar.&lt;br /&gt;Pero suena y resuena,&lt;br /&gt;todas las mañanas&lt;br /&gt; el recordatorio&lt;br /&gt;para que antes de salir, la dibuje si no es en mi rostro,&lt;br /&gt;al menos en otra parte.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3680498294071532469-8053501215117004587?l=florenciabarqui.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3680498294071532469/posts/default/8053501215117004587'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3680498294071532469/posts/default/8053501215117004587'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://florenciabarqui.blogspot.com/2008/07/ya-no-cabe-tampoco-en-m-la-idea-de-la.html' title=''/><author><name>Florencia Barqui.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11128805713468447297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3680498294071532469.post-754773054160624754</id><published>2008-07-23T11:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-23T12:02:20.885-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Quisiera tirar,&lt;br /&gt;desde un quinto piso,&lt;br /&gt;el lenguaje por la ventana.&lt;br /&gt;¡Que reviente en mil pedazos!&lt;br /&gt;imaginación siempre tendremos.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3680498294071532469-754773054160624754?l=florenciabarqui.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3680498294071532469/posts/default/754773054160624754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3680498294071532469/posts/default/754773054160624754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://florenciabarqui.blogspot.com/2008/07/quisiera-tirar-desde-un-quinto-piso-el.html' title=''/><author><name>Florencia Barqui.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11128805713468447297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3680498294071532469.post-5108144092344019038</id><published>2008-04-07T07:28:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-07T07:28:49.295-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>No quiero hacer un guión,&lt;br /&gt;solo un dibujo&lt;br /&gt;Que cuente pero no explique.&lt;br /&gt;Quiero dibujar la sutileza pero cuando comienzo se estropea.&lt;br /&gt;Quiero hacer un poema&lt;br /&gt;Pero cuando lo digo&lt;br /&gt;Desaparece.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3680498294071532469-5108144092344019038?l=florenciabarqui.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3680498294071532469/posts/default/5108144092344019038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3680498294071532469/posts/default/5108144092344019038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://florenciabarqui.blogspot.com/2008/04/no-quiero-hacer-un-guin-solo-un-dibujo.html' title=''/><author><name>Florencia Barqui.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11128805713468447297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3680498294071532469.post-4493222101135217531</id><published>2008-04-07T07:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-07T07:27:22.768-07:00</updated><title type='text'>(Dibujito)</title><content type='html'>Hoy dibujo un globo.&lt;br /&gt;En una época tuvo rostro,&lt;br /&gt;pero se lo borré y quedó atónito, anónimo de impotencia.&lt;br /&gt;Y tuvo miedo y estuvo triste.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3680498294071532469-4493222101135217531?l=florenciabarqui.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3680498294071532469/posts/default/4493222101135217531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3680498294071532469/posts/default/4493222101135217531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://florenciabarqui.blogspot.com/2008/04/dibujito.html' title='(Dibujito)'/><author><name>Florencia Barqui.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11128805713468447297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3680498294071532469.post-5997836121990239806</id><published>2008-04-07T07:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-07T07:25:33.715-07:00</updated><title type='text'>“pie(s)nso”</title><content type='html'>Creí haber muerto por la investidura de una palabra.&lt;br /&gt;Creí haber pronunciado la vida en términos equívocos.&lt;br /&gt;Cada bocado se trasformaba en la más deliciosa frase,&lt;br /&gt;que no existe&lt;br /&gt;para mí&lt;br /&gt;la verdad en palabras.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Creí que era noble al hablar,&lt;br /&gt;más me traiciono a mí misma&lt;br /&gt;Intentando traducirme a otro idioma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nadie entiende,&lt;br /&gt;que yo digo en imágenes,&lt;br /&gt;Que mi capacidad de la palabra&lt;br /&gt;nunca fue tal,&lt;br /&gt;igual que mi condena&lt;br /&gt;que eternamente&lt;br /&gt;me insta a deber usarlas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Creo estar desterrada del mundo de la no- imagen&lt;br /&gt;digo en silencio&lt;br /&gt;de mi&lt;br /&gt;y de mis ojos.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3680498294071532469-5997836121990239806?l=florenciabarqui.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3680498294071532469/posts/default/5997836121990239806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3680498294071532469/posts/default/5997836121990239806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://florenciabarqui.blogspot.com/2008/04/piesnso.html' title='“pie(s)nso”'/><author><name>Florencia Barqui.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11128805713468447297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3680498294071532469.post-5140428011966898548</id><published>2008-02-19T14:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-19T14:15:13.208-08:00</updated><title type='text'>"Objetos del abandono"</title><content type='html'>Los encuentro, los persigo. Si no los retratara, si dejaran  de existir, desaparecerían de mi memoria.&lt;br /&gt;En el espacio, abierto, suspendido, ocupando parte  de historias que a gritos exigen su presencia.&lt;br /&gt; Presos del pensamiento, de alguien, de alguno que crea.&lt;br /&gt;¡Objeto! Objeto su inexistencia,&lt;br /&gt;Objeto los objetos, la memoria&lt;br /&gt;Los borrones.&lt;br /&gt;¿Y si doblara en la esquina y dejara de verlos y con ellos se fugaran los rostros y los momentos?&lt;br /&gt;Y todo fuera tan ajeno que desconocería hasta mis propias manos&lt;br /&gt;¿y si mi memoria me abandonara?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3680498294071532469-5140428011966898548?l=florenciabarqui.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3680498294071532469/posts/default/5140428011966898548'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3680498294071532469/posts/default/5140428011966898548'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://florenciabarqui.blogspot.com/2008/02/objetos-del-abandono.html' title='&quot;Objetos del abandono&quot;'/><author><name>Florencia Barqui.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11128805713468447297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3680498294071532469.post-1287764383813841524</id><published>2007-10-15T12:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-15T12:55:59.118-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"La de los ojos"</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Más que influencias/ tuve posibilidades.&lt;br /&gt;Más que consejos/ tuve tiempo.&lt;br /&gt;Más que hablar/ escuché bastante.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sobre todo alcé la mirada,&lt;br /&gt;sobre todo la di vuelta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Un día dibujé una muñeca sin boca&lt;br /&gt;hacía tiempo,&lt;br /&gt;un tiempo formidable&lt;br /&gt;miré por la ventana,&lt;br /&gt;caía una hoja,&lt;br /&gt;ya era tiempo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3680498294071532469-1287764383813841524?l=florenciabarqui.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3680498294071532469/posts/default/1287764383813841524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3680498294071532469/posts/default/1287764383813841524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://florenciabarqui.blogspot.com/2007/10/la-de-los-ojos.html' title='&quot;La de los ojos&quot;'/><author><name>Florencia Barqui.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11128805713468447297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3680498294071532469.post-6538234175316827122</id><published>2007-10-11T18:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-11T18:18:22.107-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"Eh,un segundo"</title><content type='html'>Dibujo un reloj para que&lt;br /&gt;exista el tiempo&lt;br /&gt;lo detengo&lt;br /&gt;para comprobar mi existencia.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3680498294071532469-6538234175316827122?l=florenciabarqui.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3680498294071532469/posts/default/6538234175316827122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3680498294071532469/posts/default/6538234175316827122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://florenciabarqui.blogspot.com/2007/10/ehun-segundo.html' title='&quot;Eh,un segundo&quot;'/><author><name>Florencia Barqui.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11128805713468447297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3680498294071532469.post-6594930237523394832</id><published>2007-10-11T18:07:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-11T18:07:38.708-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"Ser"</title><content type='html'>Dibujo&lt;br /&gt;Sobre todo&lt;br /&gt;Dibujo&lt;br /&gt;Un abrigo&lt;br /&gt;En papel de decir&lt;br /&gt;En función de&lt;br /&gt;Ser.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3680498294071532469-6594930237523394832?l=florenciabarqui.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3680498294071532469/posts/default/6594930237523394832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3680498294071532469/posts/default/6594930237523394832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://florenciabarqui.blogspot.com/2007/10/ser_3501.html' title='&quot;Ser&quot;'/><author><name>Florencia Barqui.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11128805713468447297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3680498294071532469.post-5715372418823147211</id><published>2007-10-11T17:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-11T17:57:11.585-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"Desdibujo"</title><content type='html'>Tomo apuntes de mi&lt;br /&gt;Como quien toma un&lt;br /&gt;vaso de agua&lt;br /&gt;para no atorarse&lt;br /&gt;para comprender.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3680498294071532469-5715372418823147211?l=florenciabarqui.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3680498294071532469/posts/default/5715372418823147211'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3680498294071532469/posts/default/5715372418823147211'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://florenciabarqui.blogspot.com/2007/10/desdibujo.html' title='&quot;Desdibujo&quot;'/><author><name>Florencia Barqui.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11128805713468447297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3680498294071532469.post-4923896408938272169</id><published>2007-10-11T17:36:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-11T17:36:48.498-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"Celdas"</title><content type='html'>Llevo puesto un cuerpo&lt;br /&gt;Sí un cuerpo! Ya me escucharon!!!&lt;br /&gt;Atuendo como moda de mi propio pensamiento.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Llevo además, astillas&lt;br /&gt;clavadas en los órganos&lt;br /&gt;Si quieren llámenlo síntoma&lt;br /&gt;Si quieren enfermedad&lt;br /&gt;esto es el lenguaje&lt;br /&gt;una maldita enfermedad!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Llevo años acumulando imágenes en el estómago&lt;br /&gt;debajo de este&lt;br /&gt;la imposibilidad del lenguaje&lt;br /&gt;bien guardadito.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yo solo les advierto&lt;br /&gt;que llevo puesto un cuerpo!!!&lt;br /&gt;como la cárcel más hermética que jamás he conocido.&lt;br /&gt;y desde aquí me quejo como una vieja desquiciada&lt;br /&gt;lenguaje deforme&lt;br /&gt;pedazo de molde inservible!!!&lt;br /&gt;bueno para poco!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Y llega un día, uno cualquiera&lt;br /&gt;Donde la capacidad del cuerpo&lt;br /&gt;Es rebasada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Florencia Barqui.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3680498294071532469-4923896408938272169?l=florenciabarqui.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3680498294071532469/posts/default/4923896408938272169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3680498294071532469/posts/default/4923896408938272169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://florenciabarqui.blogspot.com/2007/10/celdas.html' title='&quot;Celdas&quot;'/><author><name>Florencia Barqui.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11128805713468447297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3680498294071532469.post-5103978392440231444</id><published>2007-08-23T06:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-23T06:57:35.922-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dibujo...</title><content type='html'>*&lt;br /&gt;Un día me preguntaron:_ ¿porqué la cabeza más grande que el cuerpo?&lt;br /&gt;Un día ya no tuve más esperanza.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;Dibujo una línea.&lt;br /&gt;Divide la hoja.&lt;br /&gt;¡Oh!&lt;br /&gt;El mundo se ha fragmentado.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;Un día dibujé una muñeca.&lt;br /&gt;Nunca más  salió de mi lápiz.&lt;br /&gt;Cada vez que garabateo&lt;br /&gt;Ella me mira atónita.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dibujo mi mano.&lt;br /&gt;¡Por fin es libre!.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;En un papel de tinte amarillento&lt;br /&gt;Estampo unos ojos.&lt;br /&gt;Creo que es suficiente.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;Dibujo mi cuerpo.&lt;br /&gt;Para sentir el mundo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;Desde un rincón del silencio&lt;br /&gt;nadie la vé.&lt;br /&gt;Escribo la palabra&lt;br /&gt;“Nadie”.&lt;br /&gt;Invoco al sonido, no al sentido.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;Todavía no aprendí a hablar.&lt;br /&gt;Balbuceo desde los dos años.&lt;br /&gt;Solo se vivir en imágenes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3680498294071532469-5103978392440231444?l=florenciabarqui.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3680498294071532469/posts/default/5103978392440231444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3680498294071532469/posts/default/5103978392440231444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://florenciabarqui.blogspot.com/2007/08/dibujo.html' title='Dibujo...'/><author><name>Florencia Barqui.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11128805713468447297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3680498294071532469.post-9012145095923026014</id><published>2007-08-02T12:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-02T12:07:31.156-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"Dibujé una línea.."</title><content type='html'>*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Todoesunborde/deunladoydelotro&lt;br /&gt;Porqueungramodemás/demenos.&lt;br /&gt;Unamiradaysureflejo&lt;br /&gt;Deunladoydelotro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Estandelgado&lt;br /&gt;Siesquehayunlímite&lt;br /&gt;Siesquetodopartedelomismo&lt;br /&gt;Osidetodasformasvaaunirse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bordeandounaidea&lt;br /&gt;Cociendomicuerpoparaqueexista&lt;br /&gt;Primerolamanolosojos&lt;br /&gt;Lodemassaldrásolo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3680498294071532469-9012145095923026014?l=florenciabarqui.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3680498294071532469/posts/default/9012145095923026014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3680498294071532469/posts/default/9012145095923026014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://florenciabarqui.blogspot.com/2007/08/dibuj-una-lnea.html' title='&quot;Dibujé una línea..&quot;'/><author><name>Florencia Barqui.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11128805713468447297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3680498294071532469.post-9149328842669501123</id><published>2007-08-02T08:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-02T08:39:26.144-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"he dibujado"</title><content type='html'>1&lt;br /&gt;(2006)&lt;br /&gt;Dibujaba algún bote, pero siempre quedaba&lt;br /&gt;Un detalle&lt;br /&gt;Para permanecer en la superficie&lt;br /&gt;Recorría paisajes con mi mente&lt;br /&gt;Navegaba horizontes de tiza&lt;br /&gt;¡Escribía tan breve!&lt;br /&gt;Aturdía en silencio&lt;br /&gt;Doblada&lt;br /&gt;De pena&lt;br /&gt;He dibujado.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3680498294071532469-9149328842669501123?l=florenciabarqui.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3680498294071532469/posts/default/9149328842669501123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3680498294071532469/posts/default/9149328842669501123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://florenciabarqui.blogspot.com/2007/08/he-dibujado.html' title='&quot;he dibujado&quot;'/><author><name>Florencia Barqui.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11128805713468447297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3680498294071532469.post-9182859980038224598</id><published>2007-08-02T08:35:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-02T08:35:53.098-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Encrucijada(2004 e.t.d.e.m)&lt;br /&gt;Nunca es eso lo que quiero decir. Sin embargo menciono esto otro y eso también que supone tratar de decir aquello que no digo. Y en ese intento, donde las palabras se disuelven queriendo penetrar en otro, confunden de una manera u otra aquello que siempre se esconde en el silencio, a la vuelta del pensamiento, detrás de alguna imagen.&lt;br /&gt;El poder de “lo oculto”, de lo que no se sabe, de lo que nadie dice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3680498294071532469-9182859980038224598?l=florenciabarqui.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3680498294071532469/posts/default/9182859980038224598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3680498294071532469/posts/default/9182859980038224598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://florenciabarqui.blogspot.com/2007/08/encrucijada2004-e.html' title=''/><author><name>Florencia Barqui.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11128805713468447297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3680498294071532469.post-3545109218317256135</id><published>2007-08-02T08:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-02T08:32:55.964-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>2&lt;br /&gt;Escenario(2007)&lt;br /&gt;Las palabras se dirigen&lt;br /&gt;Seguramente hacia algún sitio&lt;br /&gt;Por detrás&lt;br /&gt;En dirección opuesta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Persigo ideas devanadas&lt;br /&gt;Devastadas de decir.&lt;br /&gt;Todo está unido con e&lt;br /&gt;Ctado&lt;br /&gt;En mi imagen-ario&lt;br /&gt;Soy otra realidad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Solo puedo dibujar cuerpos&lt;br /&gt;que piensan y con/tienen&lt;br /&gt;la grandeza que aún no ha nacido.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3680498294071532469-3545109218317256135?l=florenciabarqui.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3680498294071532469/posts/default/3545109218317256135'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3680498294071532469/posts/default/3545109218317256135'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://florenciabarqui.blogspot.com/2007/08/2-escenario2007-las-palabras-se-dirigen.html' title=''/><author><name>Florencia Barqui.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11128805713468447297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3680498294071532469.post-7433916950729042602</id><published>2007-07-07T10:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-07T10:36:06.651-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>paisajes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Barcos, ello, antes, decían. Pasaban, palabras, parecían desaparecer. Simulaban, creían, existían, ellas. Llegar a puerto, arribando en pie, no queda más, pobre lenguaje, pobre lengua, la que debe, debe pronunciar, trasladar de un lado al otro, otro tema, que se dispersa, que se disipa, la oscuridad, no es ausencia de luz, es, ver, de otro modo, de, es, cribir, de simular, propiedad, nadie es, dueño. Sobre el agua, yacen, flotan, fríos, solos, existen, barcos.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3680498294071532469-7433916950729042602?l=florenciabarqui.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3680498294071532469/posts/default/7433916950729042602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3680498294071532469/posts/default/7433916950729042602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://florenciabarqui.blogspot.com/2007/07/paisajes-barcos-ello-antes-decan.html' title=''/><author><name>Florencia Barqui.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11128805713468447297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3680498294071532469.post-7813462939283969071</id><published>2007-07-07T10:32:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-07T10:33:23.120-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Dibujo 1&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dibujo una muñeca.&lt;br /&gt;¡me siento observada!&lt;br /&gt;(dice ella, prefería vivir en el anonimato)&lt;br /&gt;¡malditos dibujantes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dibujo 2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dibujo una muñeca&lt;br /&gt;(sin brazos)&lt;br /&gt;Ella me insulta.&lt;br /&gt;¡desagradecida!&lt;br /&gt;Replico.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dibujo 3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahora dibujo una cerradura&lt;br /&gt;A través de ella&lt;br /&gt;Un mundo veo.&lt;br /&gt;(acto seguido, un ser desconocido me escupe el ojo).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4&lt;br /&gt;Escribo una palabra&lt;br /&gt;La recorto,&lt;br /&gt;La cuelgo de la soga.&lt;br /&gt;A mis espaldas grita…&lt;br /&gt;(la palabra, era silencio).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dibujo 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Esbozo un perro&lt;br /&gt;Se escapa.&lt;br /&gt;Dibujo otro,&lt;br /&gt;Cava un hueco en el papel.&lt;br /&gt;Ah…que va a ser de mi?.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3680498294071532469-7813462939283969071?l=florenciabarqui.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3680498294071532469/posts/default/7813462939283969071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3680498294071532469/posts/default/7813462939283969071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://florenciabarqui.blogspot.com/2007/07/dibujo-1-dibujo-una-mueca.html' title=''/><author><name>Florencia Barqui.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11128805713468447297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3680498294071532469.post-5837261476263936512</id><published>2007-07-05T11:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-05T12:00:20.604-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>“Las palabras se hunden en mi interior.&lt;br /&gt;Y si se hundieran?&lt;br /&gt;y si me tocaran?&lt;br /&gt;y si penetraran mi piel imperceptiblemente?&lt;br /&gt;y si en mi mente no se manifestara esta idea?&lt;br /&gt;y se la mente fuera el manifiesto?&lt;br /&gt;y si la idea no fuera?&lt;br /&gt;y si esto que digo se perdiera en este instante?&lt;br /&gt;y si digo "soy"... ¿existiré?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*l (fragmento de “Tocando Fondo”)&lt;br /&gt;Florencia Barqui&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3680498294071532469-5837261476263936512?l=florenciabarqui.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3680498294071532469/posts/default/5837261476263936512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3680498294071532469/posts/default/5837261476263936512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://florenciabarqui.blogspot.com/2007/07/las-palabras-se-hunden-en-mi-interior.html' title=''/><author><name>Florencia Barqui.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11128805713468447297</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>
