When life changes I know this title is a little generic, but these words are very powerful to me.

Some people tend to forget, once time goes on and on. But, when theres been a change in your life, you dont forget. You remember it again and again and you wonder: What happened? I write this because on a certain week my life changed. And I know I wrote about this before, but the thing is that today I celebrate the fact that Ive been writing for ten years. And this is my story. About how my life changed. I remember the beginning of that day very clearly, because I started my day the same way every single day. I was thirteen years old back then. I woke up at 05:00 am, did some homework, had breakfast, put the uniform on and waited for the school bus to come. Right before it got there my grandma woke up and opened the door. She said good-bye to me. Just like any other day. Of course, once I got into the school bus, I greeted those who were there and we went to pick up a friend who lived a few blocks nearby. Then we went on with the daily route. Once I got to school I went straight to the classroom. I tried to sleep a little bit, but there were some classmates who were bullying me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen. I was a victim of bullying. They never hit me, but they were very mean. They threw me some orange seeds right from their mouths. When I was about to pick them up to throw them the teacher came. I was so lucky she didnt see the seeds. A few days before she asked me to pick them up and throw them to the trash can. She thought it was I, and there was no way to prove she was wrong. After she left, I got them and threw them. I used to draw, so I got my notebook and started drawing. And thats how my day went, at least until recess. I went to buy something at the bar and went to eat with my only best friend back then, Fabiola Chico. Yes, I had only one friend. Dont think Im pathetic. Ive changed a lot. Maybe she will hate me because I wrote her name, but I have a lot to thank her, so, please, if you read this, dont hate me. At least I didnt write your full name. Well, lets go back to the story here. I went to eat some with her and we saw the teachers were getting around in little groups whispering something, but we couldnt get a single word. I dont know if she paid attention to them. I dont even know how I remember myself. I let it be and went back to classes. Now a few students were together. I didnt see it as a different thing, I thought about what evil things they intended to do to me. The day went on and nothing seemed to have changed until I went to the school bus after classes. My bag smelled funny. I opened one of the zippers and I found rotting bread. I closed it and I didnt know where to throw it. I was thinking about it the whole time so I didnt pay attention to the radio. I dont even remember if we were listening to it. My grandma opened the door and I had lunch. I read the newspapers and there wasnt any other different thing. It was ordinary information.

My grandma found the bread and screamed why I had it and I said it was those girls at school. She said some other things I wont write and threw it away. My cousin was doing her things and I did mine. She fell asleep at her moms bed and my grandma fell asleep at her bed. I was kinda bored. I did my homework very quickly so I turned on the computer and played a little bit. I was still bored and decided to watch some TV. The only room that had Pay TV service was my grandmas so I went there. She felt me sitting at her bed so she moved a little bit. It was like 19:00. Nickelodeon was boring, just as Fox Kids, Cartoon Network and some other channels. I started zapping, but I was still bored. I decided to watch some music videos, so I put MTV. The first thing I saw was a person falling from a building. It was like WTC at New York. At first I thought it was a movie and I was intrigue. A movie at MTV? A few seconds later I noticed some screaming coming from the TV and the abc logo in the lower right corner. There were no subtitles and it was like CNN. In fact, sometimes it wasnt abc but CNN. It wasnt a movie. It was a report about what had happened that morning. It was September 11, 2001, and I was watching a report about the attack that the Pentagon and the Twin Towers suffered. And I wont forget the plane that fell at Pennsylvania. I saw the news. I didnt know that much English to understand it all, but at least I got the main things. It was Al Quaedas doing, and their leader was Osama Bin Laden. He had the money and the means (and the reasons, he thought) to do something like this. He killed a lot of innocent people. People who had to go somewhere to visit someone, people who had to go work, newlyweds, kids, old people, people who were just working, people who were meeting someone, people who were at the wrong place and at the wrong time. Just people. But people who had families, people who were just starting a new one. People with dreams to come true, people who were about to make them true, people who didnt even know what to dream for their future. People who had stopped dreaming, too.

This is from an exhibition here at Guayaquil, my place. And the reason of all this

It was shocking. I didnt know what to do, so I woke up my grandma. I remembered I had a cousin right there, at NYC. And we werent so sure about his working place. Grandma, wake up I told her as quite as possible. - Mmff... She said, she was still sleeping. - Grandma, wheres Isidro? - Mf... What? She was waking up at last. - Isidro. Where does he work? - I dont know. I just know that he lives in New York. - Call his mom. Theres been an attack there. - Yeah, I know. I think she knows too. - Please, call her. I was so scared for him, but I tried to stay calm. I wanted to scream at my grandma because she knew about it but she didnt tell me. I was beside her during the call, and I was even more scared than before. She didnt know where her son worked, and she didnt know about the attack either. She lives at the countryside. We both tried to call him, but the phone call couldnt get out. We couldnt call. And once we could, we werent able to find him. We feared the worst.

This is what I read the day after the attacks And we werent able to find him yet.

I couldnt stop thinking about him, and about how selfish I had been that day. I was so worried about my own business that I didnt think something like this could happen. But, lets be honest. USA was supposed to be the safest country, or at least a country that could avoid something like this. This massive attack proved they were vulnerable. Just like everyone else. At least a week went by and we couldnt reach him. I dont remember if the list of the dead ones was out. I was just thinking about it when suddenly some words came to my mind, and this poem came to life: Tercera guerra La paz es bella, La guerra es fea. Lo que ms parece Es que vamos a perecer. Muy pronto tercera guerra, Muy pronto que todos mueran. Pensamientos ingenuos De afganos enfermos. Muy pronto tercera guerra, Muy pronto salvacin. Pensamientos bellos y feos De americanos en accin. Muy pronto tercera guerra, Muy pronto fin del mundo. Pensamientos propios De una joven sin rumbo. Of course, I wrote it in Spanish. Thats the language I use the most and the one I learnt first. A year ago I wrote the same poem in English. Here it goes: Third war Peace is beautiful, War is awful. What it looks like Is that were going to perish. Soon enough third war, Soon enough die all. Nave thoughts Of sick afghan. Soon enough third war, Soon enough salvation.

Beauty ad ugly thoughts Of Americans in action. Soon enough third war, The end of the world not far. The very own thoughts Of a young girl without course. This is the most accurate translation I can provide to those who know English. I wrote this just a few minutes before we found Isidro. He wasnt there at the time of the attack. He was at the other side of the city. I wanted to kill him for not telling us, but we were so happy to find him alive and healthy. Some other Ecuadorian families werent that lucky. Maybe I lost no one, but I know how they felt before they knew what had happened to their relatives. I wrote some before, but because I had to, not because I wanted to. It was September 19, 2001 when I wrote that poem. Ten years ago, I wrote a poem because I wanted to, because there I said what I was feeling, because there I explained what I thought about what was going on around me. Because, somehow, it set my soul free. Since then, I write every single time I can. I write poems and short stories. Some are fantasies; some are based on facts. The thing is that I didnt stop there. Theres been an evolution after my first poem. And thats an evolution you can read here. Now, youll read some.

Despedida del mundo

(El moribundo) En la soledad de la oscura noche Con el sonar de los grillos Va en mi mente el pensamiento Del final de los tiempos. Amarga despedida Deparada por el destino Con un poco de desatino Porque estoy ida. El final de los tiempos Se acerca mi partida Parto a un lugar Donde nadie me acompaar, Donde solo estar La soledad Y ningn ruido se oir No habr paz Mi vida se acabar Me despido Tristemente con el ltimo respiro La vida se me va Ya no aguanto ms La agona el dolor Desde lo ms profundo de mi corazn No soporto la desesperacin La desolacin

En los ltimos minutos Una vida acaba Mi vida se me escapa Adis digo a las balas que me mataron (El testigo) Desangrado, maniatado, Medio muerto y ultrajado Queda el inocente, ya cadver, Confundido con un maleante Y mi vida se me va Con sus gotas de sangre Con disparos en todas partes Y mi alma se sale Confusa sensacin En el fondo una cancin Tocada por las alarmas de la ambulancia, Cuando no hay ms que estupor Por la vida que parti El inocente muri. De testigo quedo yo. Con amarga desazn Mi vida se salv A cambio de informacin. Pequeo tributo A la esclavitud.

Aquellas dulces palabras

Esas dulces palabras Pronunciadas aquella noche Sueltan con tierno derroche Las maravillas ya habladas Sobre un ser, para ti hermoso Mas el cual no veo ostentoso. Cmo es posible Que puedas ver en m Lo que yo, ser sensible, No puedo siquiera sentir? Figuran como palabras sueltas Las anunciadas por tus labios. Aquellas hermosas cosas No asombran, ni dan cambio Exceptuando quien las ha mencionado, Mi amigo tan amado. Todo lo mencionado Ha sido observado La cuestin es Quin las ha notado? Poca gente, por no decir otra cosa, Ha visto lo que dijiste, Sin mencionar quin se atreve A mencionarlo a buena hora, Lo cual no sucede Ni ahora.

Como amigo supiste actuar, Diciendo lo que menester era escuchar, Aquellas dulces palabras Que en mi mente pesan ya Como hermosos rosales O delias tal vez Que acaban de florecer. Gracias os digo Por ayudarme a ver Algo que, por miope yo ser, No poda ver, peor entender. Ahora ya s Lo bueno que es Ser yo y no ser Alguien ms, tal vez.

ngel y diablito. (Diablito) Nunca pens que sucedera, Que un ngel vendra A brindarme su corazn Y su amor. Lleg a m, Buscando rescatarme De las penurias que agobian A mi alma. No haba pensado O quiz considerado Que ella, o yo, o ambos Nos enamorramos. Me rescat, no lo niego, De un cruel destino Pero no s qu hacer, Ella un ngel, yo un diablito. Pienso en abandonar A mi mentor infernal Y buscar el cielo Con mi ser celestial. (ngel) Soy un ngel enamorada, Mas no de cualquier ser o humano. Manifiesto tal sentir desenfrenado

Por un diablillo alocado. De bandos contrarios, No debera suceder Mas pareci inevitable Desde la primera vez que lo vi. Mi misin era convertirlo En un ser angelical Mas no saba que en el camino Me iba a enamorar. Me evita, por momentos se aleja Todo es por mi radiante pureza. l admite, con sutileza, Que me ama y no se queja. Dejar sus diabluras Para llegar a m. Se siente indigno De ser feliz. Le di esperanza, Brind mi mano abierta A un futuro no esperado, A un amor sin barreras. Soy un ngel enamorada, Y ahora soy ms feliz, Porque aquel ser amado Al fin est junto a m.

Planeta que sufre Escribo este poema Dedicado al planeta tierra, Que sufre las penurias A las que lo sometemos. Pobre porque siente Cuando estalla una guerra Y mucha gente muere Si volver a sus familias. Pobre porque llora Manantiales de desesperacin Por el mal que agobia A toda la poblacin. Lstima es la que siento Por este inocente ser, Que por condicin de planeta Todos creen su alma no existir. Dios nos dota de un espritu, El cual estamos perdiendo Tan solo porque perdemos los estribos De la inconsciencia de la guerra. Lloro con nuestro planeta Que sufre con las peleas Hermanos, no pelis, Pensad en vuestro penoso sufrir!

Pensad en las masas Que sufren con las bombas, Que lloran con las consecuencias, Por perder un ser querido, Pro haberlo perdido todo en la vida. Por qu la naturaleza del hombre es as? Por qu no pensamos en que podemos sufrir? Reaccionemos y veamos Que si seguimos de esta manera Pronto no habr un planeta Que podamos habitar. Pobre de nuestro planeta Que sufre por lo que le hacemos, Pero ms sufre Dios Por l habrnoslo otorgado. Ahora ha de lamentarse Por crear una especie diferente Que ahora se ha vuelto ignorante. Tanto, que empieza a ignorar a su Dios.

Primera prctica de anatoma En los momentos de delirio Causados por el formol Resurgen los terribles muertos Hinchados, sin respirar. Un corte hay que aplicar, La sangre chorreando est, Los mandiles sucios van Durante la prctica, ya. Finaliza el tormento, Han sido vistos los muertos, Muchos problemas hubieron Entre vivos y muertos. Pero ya todo es recuerdo Que se lo lleva el viento.

Trabajo? Caf, caf, Necesito caf. Es tarde, dorm de ms. Llegar atrasada, me debo apresurar. Tengo sueo, No quiero trabajar. Pero debo hacerlo, Sino sueldo no habr. Corro a coger bus, Hay una cegadora luz. Tena que ser el sol Que hoy no me despert. Llego a la oficina Y recibo una notificacin. Hay despido masivo Y en la nmina estoy yo. O sea, Hello! Por gusto me apresur! Mejor hubiera dormido ms Y no habra ido a trabajar.

Te he pensado mil veces. Ya no sales de mi mente. Seor Jesucristo, qu se siente Dar la vida por tanta gente Que no aguanta verte Ni en la cruz, ante la muerte? No s cmo lo hiciste, Lo mdicamente imposible. Cmo te ofreciste Por aquellos no gentiles Que no vieron cunto sufriste Ni cunto lloraste, All en Getseman, Aquella noche de Pascua En que imploraste a El Que su copa apartara Si l lo quera as. Si no, que fuera su voluntad, Tenas fuerzas para continuar. Sos grande, Jess. Eres nuestra luz. Tuviste la muerte de cruz. Nos salvaste t. Eso debo agradecer, Que no fuiste un parecer. Eres el Dios Vivo Que no queda en el olvido.

And lets not forget all the things Ive published at Scribd.com and Soopbook.com as well. You can check out everything at this link: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Haruna-Kisaragi-Kontong/209108989130491 I hope you liked this, my dear reader. Some good things can come out of bad things. If you suffered with this attack as well, forgive, and pray to God for the souls of those we lost that tragic day. Please.