Roel Wijte

“Iluminado por la luz de mediodía, el cuarto con muebles de madera estilo francés pintados en blanco parece el camarote de un barco antiguo que sale de Venecia y atraviesa las islas griegas. Esta fantasía es casi arbitraria, pero bebe de mi limitada experiencia en barcos lo suficientemente grandes para salir de un país y llegar a otro.”
― Sara Torres, Lo que hay

“Una de ellas preguntó en voz alta cómo podía ser que una flor oliera de esa forma, y otra que era una sabionda contestó que algunas flores son polinizadas por las moscas y por eso tienen que oler a carne podrida: para atraerlas. Pero no por eso dejan de ser hermosas y magnéticas, capaces de dejar mudas a un grupo de travestis que ejercen su íntimo ritual de bautismos”
― Camila Sosa Villada, Bad Girls

“¡Travestis del Parque! ¡Vengan! ¡Vengan que he encontrado algo!”
― Camila Sosa Villada, Bad Girls

“I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.”
― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar