Víctor Bermúdez. 1986. ▽
Brief humanist, theoretician of wine, air, human condition, and other similar vicissitudes. He grew up in Mexicali and was enlightened in Salamanca, where he learnt about vices, avarice and holiday’s fervor. Gone from clay courts to wet sand.
After years of educational wintry turbulences, on his knees, he wrote a thesis about verses and synapses in the ILICIA cluster, he has translated poets such as Lorand Gaspar, Bernard Noël, Heather Dohollau or Amina Saïd, and he directed the Periplo’s maganize’s helm.
After risking his life in Paris’ bike paths (from the BnF to the Sorbonne Nouvelle), challenging thick snowpacks in the Centre Figura of Montreal, he camouflaged himself in a bunker at the Donostia International Physics Center, where he calculated verses armored with photons and he surfed Basque waves unknown to the sky.
Afterwards, he moved to the north of the north of northern Germany, where he installed his tent on top of the Baltic Sea, in order to read poems to two-meters-high students at the CAU zu Kiel, and to wait for the haze to come in a lilac color.
Afterwards he has gone to the suburbs of the Université Sorbonne Paris Nord, to rap for free crêpes in urban transport, and to make triangles avocados at the BnF while eating kiwis at the Goethe-Institut Paris.
He is now back to Salamanca, where he bites Letras Corsarias and builds grounded lightness, while distributing cacti all around, let’s see for how long.
Sometimes, squatting in urban corners, he records poems in Elipsis, and he keeps The light passenger alive, where he relocates light from one language to another. He also spins weightless trompos and he takes care of an army of cactus.
Contact | unvictorbermudez[@]gmail.com ⃤