No. 11 (2023)

Grafografazo, editorial greeting
Pedro Pablo Baquero Cagua
History told from history
Stones from the river
The empty chair
Ephemeral pain
The satyr
What is Social Work?
The wonderful world of writing
Memories of my writing
With several hands
Immigrant texts
Grafo to school
Winning micro-stories
Golden texts - Texts by UGC teachers
Micro-stories
Heroes in Colombia also count
Grafotexts
Events covered
Interviews
Editorial Acknowledgements

The city does not sleep, neither do the poets; and the uncertainty of life manages to transcend the withered lines of some pages that many read, that perhaps no one reads. Meanwhile, this reality fills us with the satisfaction of knowing we are in any place and, in turn, makes us feel that nothing is home except the letters: the place par excellence occupied by those who are misunderstood, that is, a place we all occupy. That is why the following pages have become the safe place to treasure the diversity of thoughts, emotions and reflections that permeate human acts, in a world where the crude and simple reality intermingles with the possibilities of thinking of a place where everyone fits.
For our readers, passionate interpreters of anachronistic and static words, we allow ourselves to show them some lines full of exquisite narratives that show the everydayness of human relationships and their transcendence with the environment they inhabit. The deep rooms that are the souls, are shown here from poetry and stories that decide to open the doors to enter little by little, without pretensions and without noise, just letting oneself be carried away by the echo of some steps marked some time ago.

In all the significant lines that make up this collection of texts, we want the faces of those who write and those who read to be reaffirmed as an act of rebellion. In a world where words are no longer valid and where we want them to no longer exist, we need readers willing to fall in love and fall out of love a thousand times with letters, because, like everything else, the letter on paper always remains and is the only thing we have left.