Memoria

The garden was too overgrown and rank for walking in with ease, and after we had made the round of it twice or thrice, we came out again into the brewery yard. I showed her to a nicety where I had seen her walking on the casks, that first old day, and she said, with a cold and careless look in that direction, "Did I?" I reminded her where she had come out of the house and given me my meat and drink, and she said, "I don't remember." "Not remember that you made me cry?" said I. "No," said she, and shook her head and looked about her. I verily believe that her not remembering and not minding in the least, made me cry again, inwardly - and that is the sharpest crying of all.

"You must know," said Estella, condescending to me as a brilliant and beautiful woman might, "that I have no heart - if that has anything to do with my memory."

I got through some jargon to the effect that I took the liberty of doubting that...

(C. Dickens)

Un adiós

Apaga mi ojos, y podré verte,

cierra mis oídos, y podré oírte,

y sin pies podré llegar hasta ti,

y aun sin boca podré conjurarte.

Córtame los brazos, te abrazaré

con el corazón como con las manos,

párame el corazón, latirá el cerebro,

y si en mi cerebro arrojases fuego

aún te llevaría sobre mi sangre.

(R. M. Rilke)

You don't know I know you

Love at first read...

Septiembre

Sólo el hombre es capaz de transmitir tanta lástima como los caminos que se empeña en seguir...

(Marco Aurelio)