Clyo Mendoza

“They were always spying on him, but this time they saw what they had been hoping to see; something out of the ordinary. Tied to the trunk of the tree in the yard was a man who looked wild, savage. His eyes were horrible, bloodshot eyes. Come on, let’s see what’s going on, said the children, moving a little closer. But no, they weren’t human eyes, they were the eyes of a dead man; but even so, the pupils moved and projected their infinite emptiness onto wherever they were directed. The children scented danger and left. It was three days before they opened their mouths again. Their grandmas had to spit alcohol on their shoulders, bathe them in flowers, make them chew on the skins of snakes.”
― Clyo Mendoza, Fury: A Novel

“..sentía que formaba parte de una maquinaria,que él era un minúsculo engrane y que los otros también. Aunque pensar eso lo hacía sentir insignificante, se sentía también parte de un todo. Quizá sentir esto es Dios, pensaba, pero la primera vez que su cuerpo se unió al de alguien más tuvo esa misma sensación, la de bullir con otro cuerpo hasta formar parte los dos de un único brebaje.”
― Clyo Mendoza, Furia