Leonor Henríquez

leer en español      On the first day of the year, tired, rather exhausted, we sat in front of the television to choose a movie, my two brothers, my two sisters-in-law, the dog and I.The challenge of getting five people to agree began.- No, that one is very violent.- No, that one only has three stars.- No, that one is scary.Confronting one with a biblical theme, my two brothers jumped in chorus:-Noooo, we already saw that one.On the contrary, when a sexy woman came out, there:-Yes, let's watch that one!And so on, ad infinitum.With such a vast menu of options, it was almost impossible to choose.Anyway, after about an hour walking through Netflix, Amazon, Apple and who knows, my brother said, there is nothing to watch, and declared:- We are going to watch the American football game.Minneapol...

leer en español      - Do you know who is dying? - my dad always asked us around this time.- No, who? – we responded with exorbitant eyes.- The year…My dad always fooled us with his bad joke.But yes, I think that 2023 has a few hours left to live.I woke up with these thoughts today, for me a day when absences possess me.My father, a doctor, but a poet nonetheless, on the night of December 31, made a toast by reciting a poem called “Drop of Tears” by Javier Santacruz. He raised his glass, and with a deep voice and deep expression he declaimed:“This cup of wine for the living,and this drop of tears for the dead.” Yes, they are those lost hugs, one in particular, that I miss so much at the end of the twelve bells.But hugs, are also renewed, they flourish, and today is not a day for sadness.It...

leer en español       Since I was little, I have liked to paint portraits. My teacher at the time, Luis Álvarez de Lugo, a distinguished Venezuelan painter, taught me the techniques, the proportions of a human face, which is divided into three zones: a third from the hairline to the eyebrows, another third from the eyebrows to the tip of the nose, and another one from the latter to the chin; between eye and eye, the distance of an imaginary eye. Ears aligned between eyes and nose and stop counting. I remember that I tried very hard, and in the end my teacher saw my creation, and motivated me by telling me (or lying to me) that it was very good, then he gave it three strokes of light. The portrait took on new life. The person in question, before my very clumsy approach, suddenly appe...

leer en español            Around this season, one tends to think: one more year, what will the next bring us?Focused on my plans for the next weeks, dinners, parties, trips, the doorbell rang. Every time I start planning something, I receive his visit.He shows up at my door, with a hat and impeccable dark suit, vest, and gray tie. As my father would say, “the strange elegance…”.Without words, because I know him very well, I invited him to come in.He sits next to me, in front of the computer, and watches, while I finish planning my activities for this and next year.My guest is very discreet, no matter how much you want to ask him things, he remains silent. Sometimes a short, almost sarcastic laugh escapes him.In the middle of my plans, my computer froze. I think the afternoon, the hours, s...

leer en español      It is not a church and yet you feel the same solemnity.It is not a mausoleum, but you can breathe that overwhelming and respectful silence.It is not a museum, but you can see the reason that makes people interesting, intense, talented, unforgettable.It is a place, not too big, that shelters tenderness, strengths, beginnings, endings, reflections of authentic beauty, of life.It lives in a dusty, but endearingly intimate corner of my home. That which, as the Persian poet Gibran says, is “your big body.”I'm not going to continue with this kind of riddle, so not to bore you.It's my trunk of memories.I visited it recently looking for something, I don't even remember, and as if it were a magician's hat, rabbits in the shape of remembrances jumped out.A well of, not very orga...

leer en español      The truth is I felt strange seeing myself in my new sports outfit and running shoes, at six o’clock in the morning, jogging through the park. Maybe I have heard so much about discipline, habits, fitness, nutrition and all those concepts that I generally completely ignore, that they finally convinced my very reluctant subconscious. Recently, someone told me that, at a certain age, you begin to lose muscle mass and the only effective way to prevent that loss is to lift weights. Euphoric, after jogging, I stopped at the gym and started lifting, yes, incredible: weights. The mirror gave me a very encouraging image, strong and disciplined, another me. I returned home around eight in the morning hungry and motivated by all this dietary advice that I often receiv...