There are dictionaries and thesauruses. They all describe (enclose) words (the outcome of the gaze) that reveal their power (the word’s ability to stop the wind) and their meaning (a paradox that no one has yet noticed). But only in some writing (risky thinking) is daring to exercise satire (realism wrapped in sandpaper). Among these, there are some who are directly loaded by the Devil (an evil entity that forces human beings to do what they were going to do anyway), but there is only one ‘Verbolario‘, whose reading (the introspective variety of escalation), from A to Z, makes us enter (come out of somewhere) in a music score (vibration in ink) that, covered in humour (frankness wrapped in shiny paper) and thorns (bitter memories that are sometimes watered with more care than the rose itself), will reveal (put two veils over something, instead of just one), word by word, its hidden meaning (which is in sight, but inconceivable) with the depth (a dimension that is especially relevant in the pool of elders and in philosophy) that is only possible in a poem (written air; described air). Rodrigo Cortés, through his prodigious dictionary (a catalogue of words with their supposed definition that ‘Verbolario’ amends for the benefit of the public), does not commit himself (he promises himself as a guarantee) to solving any enigma (a problem so interesting that he advises against its solution), but he does give (lend for a while) the reader more than one smile (erection on the lips).

«Cortés unveils a reality that no one else had perceived in our language before: words can also play with us». —Jesús García Calero, ABC Cultural editor in chief.

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Book signing after the event.

Photos © Irene Medina ı © Jeosm