Infinite Violence
I imagine there are many ways to approach a particular event. I could conceive of a dialogue, a cup of 
coffee, an argument that leads to a good shit-stirring and then a barrage of pleadings at the police 
station to determine who started the fight. Then a night in the cell, a "hosing down" with ice water, a 
few slaps on the wrists, profile pictures, filling out the rap sheet, and finally free on the streets to get 
back into a fistfight with another son of a bitch. It's the cycle of divine violence, pure hostility that if it 
weren't for law enforcement would result in a massacre worthy of "the law of the strongest". Maybe 
this way I would find someone capable of giving me an honorable death with my balls on straight. It's 
bullshit!
Writing "The Bow of Artemis" was also an act of infinite violence. Each broken bone, each fall from the 
ravine, each sharp blade cutting the skin is like a kind of pagan stigma, a silent revelation that returns 
the man of Blood to his primordial origins. This apology to passions, to hate and love, can only come 
from a blind fanaticism for death. When I started the play I didn't know it, but now I understand it. The 
pact with death has been reestablished.
As an author, there is not much I can cite in the anecdotes of writing, or the log of the creative act. It is 
not that there are no anecdotes about the creation of the novel, but simply that they do not seem to 
me worthy of being told; they are irrelevant. What I can mention, at the level of the author, is the 
insistent and tragicomic affirmation of the veracity of what is written. "The artist uses lies to tell the 
truth and the politician, to hide it". But don't judge me, you still don't know how this mysterious story 
will turn, I swear that "I only dare what is worthy of a man; whoever dares more, is not".
If you have followed the development of the novel since Episode One and are about to embark on 
Episode Two, you will discover that the work is immersed in a great mystery. As you enter it, you 
enter a labyrinth of extraordinary proportion. The story does not easily reveal its secrets, but I can 
guarantee that at the end you may find something worthwhile. I did find it, that something for me is 
called: Diana.
First Episode - Battle Prefaces
Foreword by María E. Torrico. Professor of Linguistics and Languages at the Universidad Mayor de 
San Andrés. La Paz, Bolivia.
As a professor of Linguistics I have had the opportunity to read a wide variety of Bolivian narrative and it 
is truly remarkable that Bolivian literature is going through a great moment. Genres such as Science 
Fiction, Epic Fantasy and Supernatural Horror have begun to make inroads in a Bolivian literary imaginary 
that was dominated by Creole costumbrismo for several decades.
One of these remarkable efforts, more as a contribution to youth literature, is the First Episode of "El 
Arco de Artemisa", a work by the French-Bolivian author Gabriel Michel, better known by his pseudonym: 
Gaburah Lycanon Michel. It is in itself a trilogy of novels, the first of which
delivers opens cultural registers and makes an idyllic transposition to the loves of youth, adolescence, 
puberty and, why not, also of childhood; that is to say, to the first love. It reencounters us with 
abandoned dreams, with the factual situation of seeing oneself growing up overnight and, tacitly, with 
primal fears. However, the main thread of the work - in contrast to its adolescent narrative axes - is not 
the idyllic romance itself, but the Primordial Gnosis.
The striking fusion of Hyperborean Wisdom and the most sublime idyll manages to awaken powerful 
nostalgia during the reading. These elements are enhanced by Gaburah's acidic writing, a narrative 
imbricated with outbursts of honesty, a form similar to that used by authors such as Charles Bukowsky or 
Ernesto Sábato. In terms of content, the novel has a marked influence of Felipe Moyano and his work 
"The Mystery of Belicena Villca", a fundamental text of the so-called "Forbidden Gnosis".
This mysterious literary concoction, a gnostic mixture of quixotic adolescent infatuation, is the final 
substrate of a drama of magnitudes impossible to imagine in the flat context of our current world, and 
that is precisely why the novel has such an exotic bouquet.
The second edition that the author presents on this occasion is the evolution of a text that, although at 
the beginning presented errors, has been consolidated in one of the most curious and original works 
written by an author of Bolivian roots. It could be considered as a prurient and exaggerated story, 
although very enriching for the spirit, since in all its eccentricity, "El Arco de Artemisa" becomes exciting. 
For that and much more, this is one of those novels that linger in the reader's memory as a reflective 
call; ergo an invitation to sit down on a rainy night on a comfortable sofa, pour yourself a cup of tea and 
read the novel while remembering your first loves as you read. After love will come the supernatural 
and, finally, the impossible. It seems that even Gaburah himself did not know how this first episode was 
going to end, leaving the epilogue open to give way to the next episode.
"El Arco de Artemisa" is a fantastic, youthful, magical novel, imbued with love and tenderness; but at the 
same time it is a bloodthirsty, erotic, oppressive and revealing novel. As a reader I was enchanted from 
the first reading and even today its re-reading still makes me sigh the same way I did the first time. This 
leads me to conclude, with all certainty, that Bolivian literature is growing rapidly.
Second Episode - The Twelve Mysteries
Foreword by Mauricio Gámez, Co-publisher of the Editorial de la Casa de Tharsis.
Shady. I can think of no other suitable adjective to describe Gaburah Lycanon Michel. Even his 
appearance may seem unfriendly at first glance, and when he speaks he does so with hostility, he 
himself accepts it; but his texts reflect something different and that is the tenor of all his work.
When I was given the opportunity to read the First Episode of this novel trilogy I had the impression 
that I was jumping into a remote and longed-for past, an almost dreamlike childhood that left me, for 
some
minutes, meditating in my living room. Even now, when I remember what I experienced with the first 
part I can't help but draw a smile. In this Second Episode, sensation became rational thought, emotion 
became empiricism and the idyll mutated into an epic elegy. I could not have expected less from 
Gaburah, but I was extraordinarily surprised to read this second installment of "The Bow of Artemis".
The pillars of the narrative, which during the First Episode had been held by the main characters of 
the novel, lie in this text in an all-powerful narrator who takes us through the fantastic landscapes of 
other worlds, but from a total third-person perspective. Even the main thread of the story ceases to 
be the anguish of growing up, the awakening of sexuality, the first loves and the encounter with the 
fantastic and dark, to give way to a profound historical revisionism that makes the reader doubt his 
own knowledge of Universal History. The main character of this Second Episode is, without a doubt, 
the Arch of Artemis itself; a relic that, according to the author, has influenced the evolution of man's 
development from the beginning.
The narrative structure of "The Bow of Artemis - Second Episode, The Twelve Mysteries" is made up of 
the story of the characters of the novel during their travels and subsequent encounter with the 
desolation of war, the historical and revisionist account that tells us about the origin and purpose of the 
Bow of Artemis, and the gnostic development of twelve stratagems that summarize the main precepts 
of the Hyperborean Wisdom (more extensively exposed by Felipe Moyano).
The development of the story starts from the most earthly scenarios taken from a raw, magical and 
experimental realism, passing through the territory of an epic fantasy full of dragons, castles and 
swords, until it ends in the most scientific science fiction with detailed logical, physical and chemical 
explanations of the circumstances that involve the characters. This particular blend of magical realism, 
epic fantasy and science fiction gives the story a special coloring that takes the reader from the 
terrifying and supernatural to the romantic and sexual. In other words, this Second Episode is worthy of 
being called: "Potpourri of genres".
The climax of the work, distributed in two convenient installments, gravitates on a specific war event 
that, towards the end of the story, impregnates the pages with blood, gunpowder and death. In a 
second instance, the climax is immersed in the tragedy of the fight between twin brothers that, as a 
corollary, opens the doors to a sense of abandonment, as if everything we had known and lived 
throughout the work had come to a dramatic end.
This installment can be considered as one of the most accurate references that exist about that hidden 
face of the author, the one that never surfaces in the presence of others. Gaburah is a writer (or 
apprentice writer, as he has proclaimed himself) who shares a great knowledge of the Forbidden Gnosis 
only through a well-done narrative. And if I must point out something that makes this work great, it is 
the deep treatment he gives to the Hyperborean Wisdom with such a domestic touch. A great work for 
an obscure author.
Third Episode - Eternal Love
(Excerpt from the original text)
It was an era before time and space existed. 13500 billion years ago before our Lord. The great white 
hole, an infinite column of compressed gravity, was opening and expanding as part of the consciousness 
of living beings that were not created. They lived outside the white hole, in a world without light or 
darkness, without smells, sounds, colors, wind or rain. There was no ground and no sky, no seas or 
mountains. Their world with nothing was everything at the same time, for they were everything and 
they were nothing. They could be everywhere at any time, they could fill with the flow of their 
consciousness countless forms of life in infinite cosmoses and be themselves their own creation.
Many of these life forms coexisted just outside the white hole, so they decided to come together and 
co-create a world in which to dwell together, make families, homes and observe the passing of their 
time and inner space to themselves. They did not need goals or purposes, they existed beyond all 
finality. They might not live together, but they chose to live together to observe each other, to 
experience the only experience that justified existing and sharing a world and ordering themselves in a 
society; for they, even in the heat of war or the creation of knowledge, valued above all things the 
experience of loving. They created love to understand the infinitude of their own cosmoses, to 
experience an icy warmth of cold fire that fed with its flames the purpose of existing; for there was no 
purpose, and that 'no purpose' was, in itself, the absolute finality; the possibility of 'being' and 'not 
being'.