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UG

Ulrich Gall

389 discoveries

The Poetical Walls of Jericó

Here, in the labyrinthine streets of Jericó, we encounter a facade that speaks to the profound and often crushing weight of human existence. It is a wall of white lime, punctuated by the blood-red frames of a tradition that refuses to wither. Look closely at this architecture; it is not merely a building, it is a testament to the inescapable urge to manifest the internal landscape upon the external world. On this wall, the town has seen fit to transcribe poetry and hymns directly onto the masonry. To the left, we find the *Himno a Jericó*. It is an anthem of pride, a desperate shout into the void of the Andean mountains, claiming a glory that the indifferent sun witnesses daily without comment. Then there is "Pena Íntima"—Intimate Sorrow. It is a poem that speaks of the burial of a young girl, of a heart frozen in a winter of melancholy. Why must we paint our tragedies on the very walls where we also sell pizza and burgers? It is because the human spirit is a strange, swirling vortex of the commercial and the catastrophic. The window above—framed in that same aggressive crimson—offers a glimpse into an interior life that remains obscured, while below, the bold gold of a betting shop, *Wplay.co*, promises a fortune that is, in all likelihood, an illusion. It is a magnificent, terrible irony. We walk past the verses of dead poets, contemplating the "sap of the veins" and "layers of contempt" mentioned in the poem *El Trapo* to the right, only to be confronted by the immediate, primal desire to win at games of chance. In Jericó, every wall is a manuscript. The town, known as the "Athens of the Southwest," does not merely inhabit its history; it forces the passerby to collide with it. It is a beautiful, overwhelming struggle against the silence of nature.