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.
From 2009 to 2013 he founded and directed the Periplo’s maganize’s helm. After risking his life in Paris’ bike paths (from the BnF to the Sorbonne Nouvelle), rusting up in a coworking space and challenging thick snowpacks in the Centre Figura of Montreal, he acted as a scribe in Letra Hispánica. From 2015 to 2017 he camouflaged himself in a bunker at the Donostia International Physics Center, where he knotted #Nodos in Mestizajes’s networks, he calculated armored verses with photons and he surfed Basque waves unknown to the sky.
Now he has gone to the north of the north of northern Germany, where he has installed his tent on top of the Baltic Sea and chews the icy air in a hotbed of blue lights. He works at the Romanisches Seminar of the Christian-Albrechts-Universität zu Kiel, in which he teaches Literature to students two-meters-high and he expects the haze to come in a lilac color.
Sometimes, squatting in urban corners, he records audiovisual Elipsis and he keeps The light passenger blog alive, where he relocates light from one language to another. He also spins weightless spins and he takes care of an army of cactus. He (always) keeps a collection of poems in his pocket.