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Javier Brandoli

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Brandoli Javier Manzano, Journalist and photography lover. I have lived since 2010 South Africa, Mozambique, Mexico, Italy, Thailand. I now live in the United States, New York, since April 2025.
460 articles

The suicides of the rarámuri

The wave of suicides of this native town, forgotten like so many in this Mexico in a hurry to get to the present, had a first voice of alarm early in 2012. Then, el Frente Organizado de Campesinos Indígenas denunció que "las mujeres indígenas cuando llevan cuatro o cinco días sin poder darle de comer a sus hijos se ponen tristes; and his sadness is so great that even 10 from December to 2011 fifty men and women, thinking that they don't have to give their children, they threw themselves into the ravine ".
byJavier Brandoli
9 June, 2016

Postcards from Havana

a little further north, where the winds come dry, the people danced in front of a calm and broken sea. His meats were precise and his rhythms, proud of rules, invested without prayers or sex. He smelled of female and shampoo. There we saw an indecent sunset, with a silent and sad family, in which the sun dissolved over six waves.
byJavier Brandoli
22 May, 2016

A Yankee ship in Havana

The afternoon before his arrival there were families looking at the horizon. Do you know if the Yankee ship arrives today?, I asked two couples that I noticed that they did nothing for a few minutes other than watch the coming and going of the waves. "Eso estamos esperando, que llegue", they replied with a half smile. And I looked at his side, for a few minutes, that Havana sea from which Cuban joy hangs in some sadness, on the go and in sinking bodies trying to find some freedom.
byJavier Brandoli
9 May, 2016

Un malquerer en Kikuyu

He lived in haste and with open eyes, traveled the roads without fear; the red dust stained my clothes and I adorned lashes. Gobbled new words, engulfing the pain of others, gobbled gobbled injustice and hunger. View spectacular sunrises and sunsets disappointing it became routine, I learned a lot about illegal drugs, prostitution and murder. I thought that life was. I thought that was enough.
byJavier Brandoli
27 April, 2016

Guachochi: foreshortened beauty

In Guachochi the terrain is high plateau. We went out to see a community of Tarahumara Indians and the pine forests followed one another with the threat of some water path that could divide the cruel from the human. In the community we find a hard life, poor and full of cultural nuances of the raramuri, one of those peoples that understands the world from the other side of the mirror.
byJavier Brandoli
25 April, 2016

Tierra de Brujas, Mary Ferreira

There are times Earth Bruges in reaching smell everything and you have to separate some pages, breathe and do an exercise of memory is to remind humans. I read a few books on Africa and, course, I have never faced such a work. Perhaps because none of the authors I have read I could tell in the first person what tells Maria. She did not run away from Makuyu, as we would almost all, She stood there hating and loving the land
byJavier Brandoli
14 March, 2016

Monarch butterflies

In a creek, surrounded by pine forests and milkweed, descending a path of dirt and rock. First are shadows, invisible flaps, motion without sound. Then they appear in a group, some, stirring the air. Finally, Where the heat and food abound they appear by the thousands, by tens of thousands to millions. Monarch butterflies, in Sierra Chincua, Michoacán, Mexico. Nature without fences or borders. From Canada to Mexico, alien to the rules of man.
byJavier Brandoli
2 March, 2016

The old book "cemeteries" of Mexico City

When the teenage uncle Nicolas, almost 90 years, started buying used books by Tepito, one of the most marginal neighborhoods in Mexico City, and his mother asked him one morning what he planned to do with so much paper accumulated between the narrow walls of his house, did not imagine that almost 100 años después su familia acumularía millones de obras de segunda mano en "cementerios" alive where manuscripts wait for decades, spilled on the floor or accumulated on huge shelves, someone give them life
byJavier Brandoli
11 February, 2016

Querétaro: History Buff

"Supongo que la mayor y más peligrosa locura es la de sonreír a los demás sin ninguna razón para hacerlo, cuando lo que se espera de ti es un llanto", I thought when I heard in that beautiful porticoed square a man howl and laugh as if there was no sadness in the world capable of turning off his morning...
byJavier Brandoli
16 December, 2015

The story of Las Vegas (In)

An oriental American fifties was my opponent. Beside me, a fat guy with a cap and two hands with ten fingers six hundred grams each would witness. I changed 100 U.S. dollars. She began to letters. Everything went very fast. The fat guy on my side asked for a beer. I ordered two napkins and water to wipe one coffee stain. He looked at me wistfully, like my coffee disturb his beer. I did. I was ashamed.
byJavier Brandoli
2 Oct., 2015

Tulum turtles

Nobody has explained to them that some ruins should not become a flea market because the politician who must decide to kick them out lives on their votes and the tourist is always a passing bird that perhaps, in the worst case, Make a criticism on your travel blog that your brothers have not confessed that they do not read it either.
byJavier Brandoli
9 September, 2015
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