Translator’s Note

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I am drawn to Mendez’s torrential language, scarcely punctuated, that advances with the force of a fevered dream. But this is a shared dream, more like a myth that scrolls out in the present tense, one more intimately connected to an us than to an I, or a them. Here the poetic subject dissolves, becoming object, mere corporeality, later regaining agency in collective nouns like youth, children, and majority, which become the protagonists of a hopeful apocalypse.