I Am the Bad Girl of the Story

Today you’re going to walk with me while I tell you about the confusion between pain and joy that MARÍA EMILIA CORNEJO produces in me, “the bad girl of the story.”

I pass my eyes over her verses and realize there are few words, few stories—the path is short and it’s just a notebook.

But I also realize they are the words, they are her stories, yours and mine. And for the present, whatever it may be, her eroticism is tender, real, sad, and remains even without her.

In the end, we’re left with just a notebook, but a French one, that explodes with sincerity and eroticism stronger than any tongue kiss.

This is MARÍA EMILIA CORNEJO’s version heard in the town—a Peruvian poetess with a broken soul, full of cracks covered with verses that don’t speak to you, they expose you.

While reading her verses, a piece of María Emilia remains stored in your mind, and if you read her aloud, it’s possible she overflows onto your skin.

I am the bad girl of the story, the one who fornicated with three men and cheated on her husband

(María Emilia Cornejo, Eros Magazine, 1973)