Isa Urzu

“Y este amor me conducirá a algún sitio. No puedo impedir que esta fuerte corriente me arrastre. Ya no tengo elección.”
― Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart

“I am very concerned
when I imagine how strangled and cut off you currently live, afraid of
touching anything that is filled with memories (and what is not filled with
memories?). You will freeze in place if you remain this way. You must not,
dear. You have to move. You have to return to his things. You have to touch
with your hands his things, which through their manifold relations and
affinity are after all also yours. You must, Sidie (this is the task that this
incomprehensible fate imposes upon you), you must continue his life inside
of yours insofar as it was unfinished; his life has now passed onto yours.
You, who quite truly knew him, can quite truly continue in his spirit and on
his path. Make it the task of your mourning to explore what he had expected
of you, had hoped for you, had wished to happen to you. If I could just
convince you, my dear friend, that his influence has not vanished from your
existence”
― Rainer Maria Rilke, The Dark Interval: Letters on Loss, Grief, and Transformation

“Oh mi amor, te extraño, me dolés en la piel, en la garganta, cada vez que respiro es como si el vacío me entrara en el pecho donde ya no estás”
― Julio Cortázar, Hopscotch

“Y debo decir que confío plenamente en la casualidad de haberte conocido. Que nunca intentaré olvidarte, y que si lo hiciera, no lo conseguiría. Que me encanta mirarte y que te hago mío con solo verte de lejos. Que adoro tus lunares y tu pecho me parece el paraíso. Que no fuiste el amor de mi vida, ni de mis días, ni de mi momento. Pero que te quise, y que te quiero, aunque estemos destinados a no ser.”
― Julio Cortázar