Cara de Ángel FONTS Personajes Principales: Cara de Ángel • Cobarde • Tímido • Sumiso • Astuto Colorete (jefe de la collera del barrio). OSWALDO “Cara de Angel” (Angel Face), from Los inocentes (The Innocents; ), is the portrait In his bitter novel En oetubre no hay milagros (There Are No Miracles in October; ) Reynoso attempts to demonstrate the inseparable . Child labour has a gender bias related to the dominant stereotypes regarding gender roles. While out-of-home paid work is carried out predominantly by boys, .

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He took his hands out of his pockets. He lowered his head, kicked the air.

He raised his arm above the head. He chewed his nails. His image was slender and sad, when in profile against the sun. Very few people were passing through the center of the city.

The wind, opaque and warm, lifted yellowish leaves and dirty newspaper pages. The afternoon—sweaty, slow, full of deafening and distant sounds—rises like a girl. The city held the weight of the wild and violent sun. They look at you. They call out to you. They offer you heaven and earth. Why must they always stare at me? I blame my face for this. Today she smacked me again.

I must be a disappointment for her, a really big one. He slipped his hands into his pockets and looked manlier than ever. If you want to have friends and bitches, you have to be reynlso, an asshole.

You have to smoke, drink, play, steal, skip school, take money from fagsand fuck bitches. And, the worse of it is, she does it in front of the guys from the neighborhood, exposing me to their mockery.

The other evening, around five, she sent me to the bakery. The gang was hanging out at the corner. Blush was yelling angrily. I argued with her, but she got her way in the end, as always.

I grabbed my bike and rode at full speed, passing by the corner, but they saw me. As I got back, I saw them at the door of my house. When I tried to get in, Blush grabbed my bike.

With a devilish smirk, he said: When are you going to man up? I wanted to hit him, but without noticing I said: Every morning my mom buys for the whole day. We ate in silence without looking at each other, like if we were doing some arithmetic, scholarly, and shameful chore. One by one the guys left. By the end, only Blush remained.


His looked frightened me. There was no rage or mockery left in his eyes: When he noticed me looking at him, he Blushed. I wanted to shake his hand and tell him: He left without saying anything. You gamble all the money I give you. There is a smell of gasoline in the stuffy air.

In these deynoso windows, there are clocks, chocolates, bracelets, American pants, shirts, shoes, swimsuits. If you had money The only bad thing is that the old lady finds out about everything. Who gave it to you?

Angel Face by Oswaldo Reynoso

Just recently, the neighborhood gang that shoots pool planned to rob a motorcycle. The money had to be spent on movies, races, beer, and fine cigarettes. The only one who does whatever he wants is Blush. He shouts and bullies, and if the old man disapproves, he reminds him of his business, his singing: So Blush not reyjoso steals, but he even lives openly with a faggot.

They say he’s a doctor.

Angel Face by Oswaldo Reynoso

He reaches Plaza San Martin. The opaque and terrible sun sets over the gardens. Workers, vagrants, soldiers and sailors sleep on the grass: What if the Plaza were transformed into a beach? The sky, heavy and hot, stifles. Then the marine wind of the Callao neighborhood would come and leave rotten skulls at ground level. The dead would get together in the winter time to not feel the cold. In the summer, they would lie on the grass for the sun to warm their bodies.

Cars would avoid running anel over. It would have been formidable that last night: Blush gets dirty with Yoni. Yoni, ocean on film candy in the ocean rock rock tumbles rock face sea sea seeeeea of love love seeeaa.

Watch out, a car is coming. They cross the Street and go straight to the densest, most hidden part of the Reserva Park. Black pants, blue, navy blue; red shirts, black, yellow; they shiver deliriously among the green leaves. Kick the shit out of him! The sky is cloudy, dirty, sad. The heat is more intense. The sour and angell underarm odor mixes violently, with the soft, damp fog of the lawn. He knows that Blush wants to mess with him.


Angel Face wants to run, hug his oswalod and apologize for making her mad. Blush calls him to fight. They face each ee, calculating. The others form a ring around them. Wngel sweats, opens and closes his fists in despair. He spits on one side and another, nervously. Angel’s face is still pale, his hands in his pockets, waiting for the attack.

He tries reynosp explain the reason for the anger that drives Blush. He searches iswaldo his memory for an offensive incident, but all he remembers is that he was always good with Blush. Or maybe there is natural sympathy, spontaneous. There is also instinctive hatred, natural, impulsive. All of a sudden, something breaks, falls apart, in its interior and he feels bad for him, for his friends, for his mother.

In his chesthe feels a frozen pothole that hurts him. How he wishes that, suddenly, Blush would extend his hand, that the guys would say: Come on, Maria Bonita!

Blush jumps furiously, he takes him by the waist and they fall into the grass. Agile, he grabs him by the neck with his legs. Unexpectedly, Angel Rynoso takes his arm and twists it behind his back; he frees his neck and uses the chance to get on top of his rival. Blush becomes incensed and stands up throwing his enemy to the ground.

The two angek take their shirts off. Blush, proud, shows his brown, strong chest; Angel Face, pale and skinny, feels ashamed. Now, Angel Face is belly down and Blush is riding him, twisting his neck.

carw He likes the smell of my body, Angel Face thinks. He turns around and looks at him. Angel Face feels a dark unknown fear. His desperate hands grab the grass and he screams. Angel Face stands up furiously. The boys laugh and bully him.