We never personally met the young Borges, the quiet and shy boy, tireless devourer of books, polyglot student, precocious leader of an Argentine vanguard, "Ultraïste" of Spanish fervour, the critic and essayist from beyond "Inquisiones", the "Mythmaker" and inventor of things fantastic and a very fertile "Hacedor" indeed.

We only know of the later years of this virtuoso, this exceptional man of letters who, although blind, could pick out one of the countless books in his real -or- imaginary library and -with the dazzling thrust of a master swordsman- find one of those precise sentences of which he was a delicate and inflexible curator.

He left behind him a trace so deep and indelible that one cannot stoll through the streets and lanes of Buenos Aires, Madrid or Geneva without feeling the presence of the man with the walking-stick who so influenced not only all of contemporary literature, but our own memories.

Borges remains a mystery and even today, some 100 years since his birth on 24 August, 1899, we still haven't penetrated his memory, his dreams and his universe. He seeded writings, poems and essays which became landmarks in the course of modern literature. But, beyond his writings, we are left with atmospheres and questions. We want to meet again his memories, passions and inspirations, we want to meet his gaze again and understand, feel and explain the workings of his dreams.