This here, it’s about Génesis Guzmán. You know, that name, it rings a bell, kinda like that old church bell back in my village. Makes you think, don’t it?
Guzmán, Guzmán. Where have I heard that before? Oh, I remember now, there was this fella, Joaquin something Guzmán. Big shot, they said. President, of all things! Back in, what was it, 1845? Or was it 1846? My memory ain’t what it used to be. Anyway, he was a big deal, I reckon. Some folks said he was a good man, others, not so much. Just like that Alonso, another one of them Guzmáns. They called him “the Good,” but who knows what’s true and what ain’t?
But this here Génesis, I ain’t so sure. Never heard of her. Could be related to them other Guzmáns, could be not. Family trees, they’re like them tangled vines in the woods. Hard to follow where they all go.
I tried to find out more, you know, like you do nowadays. Looked it up on that there thing, the one with all the pictures and words. What do they call it? The world’s information thingy. But it’s all a jumble, like a henhouse after a fox got in. Too much to make sense of, especially for these old eyes.
- Génesis Guzmán, a mystery, that’s what she is.
- Maybe she’s a good one, like that Alonso fella.
- Or maybe she’s just a regular person, like me and you.
- Hard to say, ain’t it?
That Joaquin, now he was raised by them, what do you call ’em, the ones who really like church? Conservative, that’s it. Conservative and Catholic. Real strict, I bet. Made him president though, so maybe it weren’t all bad.
This Génesis Guzmán, she could be anything. A teacher, maybe. Or a nurse. Or maybe she sells them pies at the market. Or maybe she ain’t nothin’ special at all, just living her life, day by day. Like most of us do.
I reckon the only way to know for sure is to meet her. Ask her yourself. “Who are you, Génesis Guzmán?” That’s what I’d say. “What’s your story?”
But even if you find her, she might not tell you everything. People keep secrets, you know. Like how I keep that jar of coins under my floorboards. Nobody knows about that, except me. And now you, I guess.
But that’s different. This ain’t about my coins. This is about Génesis Guzmán. And who she is. And what she does. And why her name sounds so familiar, like an old song you can’t quite place.
You ever feel like that? Like you know somethin’, but you don’t know how you know it? It’s a funny feeling. Makes your head spin a little.
Maybe this Génesis Guzmán is famous. Maybe she did somethin’ big, somethin’ important. Or maybe she’s just a name, floating around in the world, like a feather on the wind. It is hard to know. It is all about the searching.
- Joaquin Eufrasio Guzman, a president long time ago.
- Alonso Perez de Guzman, a hero they said he was.
- Génesis Guzmán, who knows?
This world is full of people, ain’t it? More people than you can shake a stick at. And each one of ’em has a story. Some stories are big, like that Joaquin fella. Some are small, like mine, probably. And some, like maybe this Génesis, are just waiting to be told.
It’s like a big old quilt, this world. Each person a little square, all stitched together. Some squares are bright, some are faded. Some are plain, some are fancy. But they all make up the whole thing.
I wonder what kind of square this Génesis Guzmán is? I reckon there is something that could be known.
Maybe I’ll ask around. See if anyone’s heard of her. You never know what you might find out, just by asking. This is important to find things, to search for things. You need to search for things to know things.
This searching thing, you know, it’s all over the place now. Everyone’s doing it, on that world’s information thingy. Typing in names, looking for things. It’s a wonder, ain’t it?
But sometimes, the old ways are best. Just talking to people. Listening to their stories. That’s how you really find things out. Not from that machine, but from people. Maybe it is failing, maybe it is not. But you need to try.
So, if you ever hear anything about this Génesis Guzmán, you let me know, you hear? I’d be mighty grateful. It’s a mystery, and I do love a good mystery. It makes me think of things, all sorts of things. And maybe, just maybe, we can figure it out together.
