Alfredo Muñoz

Whom am I…
His name: Alfredo Muñoz
His age: Many years –and very long ones-
His education: A public school full with –except excusable exceptions- very-very old wise men, saturated with a generous desire to educate. They carried no cane and no long sticks or strong and square measuring rulers, shined, by the constant use.

His curriculum vitae: Experiencing life. Tripping over.

He was born at: The first, or the last step, depending on whether you were going up, or coming down on the way to heaven, one 21st day of January of 1946, in a truly an exquisite place protected by gentle protuberances that have, the yearning desire of being thought of, as mountains. They surrounded it, -in the same manner that a maiden`s belt masks her waist-, the valley and his fertile plain; here, rests Gernika, and the Urdaibai, that was, in time, by the effort of his people, to become  a “reserved of the biosphere”,  a revival of nature, a place of remarkable ecological beauty to rejoice upon and to be appreciated by locals, as well as visitors.  

In such a place, and around the time of the Lower Middle Ages, was  the town of Gernika founded: “with the pleasure of all the Biscayans (…) in Gaernica in lands of Lumo, township and municipality that came to be called “harbour of Gaernica”…Locality of much lineage among the Basques, by reason of an ancient historical oak tree, that come to be –of such things speak those of noble tongues- the shrine place of the 1st democratic parliament of Europe.

In this glorious place, was born and bred Alfredo till the age of twenty-five years, at which time he, moved by love, arrived in Australia.  
He married, though not to whom motivated his coming to Australia. Had tree precious children;
Ricardo, Anita and Amaya. He chewed the bitter taste of divorce. Married once again and adopted Marcos as his new son; on the seventh year of his marriage, he became a widow.

 His history as a “poet”: A blonde bundle of hair raped-in, in squared paper, filled with words sculpted at the spring of his life.
 
It was in the autumn of his present life trajectory, wen, “he loses his love to Death…”  It is from this point on of his life, wen, unaware of the how and when, he begins to write down his experiences upon paper, always a friend and always ready, a challenger and virgin.  

alfredoamigo@hotmail.com