Juntar persona y vehículo, andar de rumbo en rumba, mascando guayabas de firmamento, caótico equilibrio de las dimensiones, disyuntiva caldo de brujas, Shakespeare aquí hablándonos siempre, folios tragicómicos, historias del hombre en el lodo, versículos y ecuaciones, un abrazo de dios en las tardes estériles donde el edicto es partir el pan en partes desigualmente iguales, hambre de comerse el vacío, estómago dictando frases inconclusas, cerebro degustando hígados adulterados, el hombre mirando a su alrededor con el asombro del primer día.
Archive for November, 2014
Con todos los ruidos construyeron un silencio. Era su silencio. Siempre lo fue. Lo llevaban a todos los lados, lo cuidaban, le compraban lujosas vestimentas, alimentos exquisitos. Un día el silencio les pidió hablar. Le concedieron el deseo. Ya nada estuvo más en su sitio.
I wanted her to die for me the same way that I was dying for her. I wanted her to burn inside like I was burning inside. I wanted us to burn together like a big fireball flying across the night sky. As always, it wasn’t that I was expecting too much. Maybe I was just expecting it at the wrong time. “I have burned inside for years,” she said, “while you were simply coming along for the heat because you were cold, very cold. I burned that ice that covered you. I did. It took a lot of energy but I did it. Now you are burning. That’s good. But don’t say I’m not burning. I am. It’s just that I have been burning for years. Now I’m a stable fireball. Welcome to the fire.”
Los relatos de Maurice Sparks 