Biography

ORIGINS

Do not get confused, I'm from the Caribbean, I was born in Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic, and I'm not bored or angry, it was very cold in New Jersey, very cold for the Caribbean climate.

MY MOTHER

I am the younger brother of 7 brothers, María Elena, José Miguel, Susana, Nalda is no longer permanently with us, Jades, Elizabeth. Son of Pascuala Concepción (Mrs. Elsa, Elena, M'a). My mother is our heroine, of great character, fighter and with great determination, she gave us solid values ​​and an irreproachable example. He worked for the Bogaert family for a few years and left through the front door.

MY FATHER

My father, Cirilo Galva, was a man of his time, very skilled son of Don Pancho, a patriarch of San Juan de la Maguana, Pancho was mayor of Los Naranjos and years later, my father was also.

My father's family, as in the Funerals of Mama Grande, had a ridiculously large area of ​​land in San Juan. Don Pancho, as they said, was last name La Paix, which is French surname, that means that I should not be surname Galvá, but La Paix, but, as it was very common at that time, it was my grandmother who declared to me father and she was last name Galvá, the twists of life!

MY GRANDFATHER THE PATRIARCH

Pancho had many, many children, almost all with different women, women who knew each other, helped each other and collaborated together in raising their children, Pancho was a sheikh, with a harem, although not in the strict sense of the word. Incredibly, Pancho managed to get his many women to get along with each other and to avoid rivalry among his many children, and even more, he got it not exactly because he earned such respect and respect, that -and believe me, I do not exaggerate- Funerals of Mama Grande paled in a crowd in front of what became Pancho's funeral.

The ability for procreation and for the government of my grandfather explain why when I went to San Juan, very rarely, and in my childhood, everyone was either my uncle or was my aunt or cousin or cousin.

MY POLITICAL VEINS

Papa inherited many of the virtues of his father Don Pancho, of that there is no doubt. The most remarkable was the political gift. Very young militated in the PRD, he was told, for reasons that I do not know, "Deo Gracia" worked for the political current of Mr. Jacobo Majluta during the government of President Don Antonio Guzmán Fernández. Jacobo got him a van, one that he destroyed in an accident that fortunately did not cost him his life, but, apparently,

his destiny was destined to die sooner or later in that way, which many years later also happened. But dad was a very industrious man, to have had better studies and opportunity could have gone very far and I know that if the money had left him to play and for other things, surely we would never have missed anything because he was very tender, just as his father was, unfortunately in him neither one nor the other was given.

THE BACKGROUND

We come from very low. I have a very good memory, but I have decided to establish the origins of our recent history from our move from the neighborhood of Cristo Rey in Santo Domingo, where we lived with difficulty until our move to Villa Duarte, which meant a very favorable change of environment, propitiated by my mother in

order that we could get more opportunities to be away from crime. Our first house in Villa Duarte was cardboard, and all that magical place, it would take me a lot of time to talk about that place, in fact, I already did that in my book:

To Not Forget, My Neighborhood And Me

THE WRITER

I am writing since I have use of reason. I started with comics that were called "Nito el acceleleraito". The cartoon was a projection of myself and I wrote it for the pure pleasure of reading them and sharing them with my friends and family who reveled in all the nonsense that I wrote there. What, however, more excited me to continue writing was when the neighborhood was organized the farewell of a girl whose name I can not remember, she was very beautiful, I do not remember the exact circumstances on how I presented the story but I do remember that she loved it and asked me to write others, her eyes were so piercing and her lips so desirable that I was literally hypnotized. She went to Italy and I never knew anything about her, that was something so circumstantial that if she met me again and in great detail she would remember every episode of what happened that day, so many years ago, I suppose Hard sorrows would make her remember the moment, because it was her farewell to the country, but, no matter how close she managed to remember me. All in all, I do remember her.

THE POET

In the neighborhood, along with Cristian, a good childhood friend, I put on plays and took advantage of the singer's galas, but I noticed that, although he imitated José José more or less well, singing, definitely would not be my thing . Years later I started to cultivate poetry. With poetry I identified myself much more than with the story. I had the opportunity to read a lot of poetry, Rubén Darío, García Lorca, Lope de Vega and many other authors, in a compendium of literature that, in the sun today I do not know for sure how he got home and that, not a few Sometimes I used for the urgencies of the toilet because I loved it and I still love reading on the throne today.

Poetry and I fit well because I have a strong melancholic vein, to the point that I love rainy days, snow, nature and everything that can put my senses in a state of abstraction. I worried then to increase my vocabulary and improve my spelling, I managed to write many verses of idle rhyme for lovers who had difficulty declaring themselves to some damsel and I did not take too much care of the harmony and coherence of the verses while rhyming.

But when I fell in love for the first time, I wanted to dedicate to the depository of that love words of the soul and could not compose a string of words that were merely rhyming but lacking true meaning and coherence, so now I should not only get a nice job in my ear , but also coherent and that would convey a sincere, emotional and literary beauty message, in other words, a message that could transcend time, and continue speaking in the distance to the generations thus real literature is made, so true poetry becomes .

I started looking for a way to communicate, but, as Neruda did, the rhyme was not so important anymore, the important thing was now the message, the message well expressed. But, the time of the disappointments of love came and I was tired of writing verses, so, I left all secular genres and started writing or trying to write theology, but, disappointment, in principle was greater. First, because the areas I chose to approach were very technical and required skills that I lacked at that time, such as hermeneutics and scatophagia. So for the year 1998 I produced some essays that did not transcend beyond my own knowledge. All in all, Hurricane Georges gave me reasons to explore poetry and storytelling again, I wrote:

A BRIEF REVIEW OF GEORGES

THE WINTER VERSES

But my country is not fertile land for writers, maybe no country is, trying to be a writer is a promising profession, especially in this postmodern era where talent has really been put aside to make way for "what works" in all areas, music, painting, design etc.

Years later I decided to write theology but now with more maturity, greater understanding of the great themes of the Christian faith, adequate theological formation and accumulated experience obtained from reading countless volumes of very good classical and modern Christian authors such as Louis Berkhof, Francisco Lacueva, Delizch, Samuel Millos, Wyne Grudem, Keil, Evis L Carballosa, FF Bruce, Josh MacDowell and many others. However, one of the works that contributed most to the development of my current theological conception was undoubtedly the comment to the Baptist Confession of Faith of 1689, by Sam Waldron. It is from the correct observations made in his manual.

Also of this period are

A PEOPLE CALLED JUANÑO CUTE,

HERNAN AND THE HISTORY OF THE DAMAGED AUTO,

FOOLPROOF.

The years in which I wrote had already passed

NOT TO FORGET MY NEIGHBOR AND I,

THE SAN VICENTE CATASTROPHE, and

MOSES THE HISTORY THAT THE WORLD IGNORES, with practically no

result. So I dedicated myself to write without haste and without the feverish pretension of getting any publishing house interested in my books, that was a planned resignation that gave me the peace necessary to not neglect my passion for literature, from this period are:

THE GOD OF ONE SIDE,

THE CHURCH CHURCH VS THE CHURCH NO CHURCH,

THE MILLENNIUM CONTROVERSY and one of those that I consider my greatest works in the field of theology

MANUAL OF SCATOLOGY OF THE GENERAL IMAGES, MY FRIEND THE WHITE COCKROACH, ZIKA CONSPIRACY.

THE FINANCIAL CRISIS

I do not know or do not want to know, how many financial failures I have had, some even related to the books that I have ventured to print, because, really, publishing is something I have never done in the strict sense of the word and the profession. The truth is that the result of the greatest debacle that a man can experience, of which I was deeply in debt, for reasons very long and complicated to explain, and what, in fact, here I will not explain, I came up with the idea of ​​writing a book that encourages those killed by debt, alert those who, wrapped in debt are tempted to fall in the Financial Pyramids and provide guidelines that help people to build a business under simple and biblical principles. This is how there was NO DAMAGED DEBT, LIVE AND TRIUMPH!

The most recent books written by my 2017 are

HERE NEVER HAPPENS ANYTHING, and DIVIDE AND OVERCOME that is still in the process of growth.