rocío
https://www.goodreads.com/rociocampos
progress:
(page 15 of 88)
"olvidé que estaba leyendo esto, lo llevaré conmigo en mi viaje a Brasil" — Dec 29, 2025 04:36AM
"olvidé que estaba leyendo esto, lo llevaré conmigo en mi viaje a Brasil" — Dec 29, 2025 04:36AM
progress:
(page 2 of 134)
"poema de los dones en la página 111 de la colección you cant make this shit up!!!" — Sep 24, 2025 11:38AM
"poema de los dones en la página 111 de la colección you cant make this shit up!!!" — Sep 24, 2025 11:38AM
“I could disappear from the face of the earth, and the world would go on moving without the slightest twinge. Things were tremendously complicated, to be sure, but one thing was clear: no one needed me.”
― The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle
― The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle
“I will never leave him. It will be this, always, for as long as he will let me.
If I had had words to speak such a thing, I would have. But there were none that seemed big enough for it, to hold that swelling truth.
As if he had heard me, he reached for my hand. I did not need to look; his fingers were etched into my memory, slender and petal-veined, strong and quick and never wrong.
“Patroclus,” he said. He was always better with words than I.”
― The Song of Achilles
If I had had words to speak such a thing, I would have. But there were none that seemed big enough for it, to hold that swelling truth.
As if he had heard me, he reached for my hand. I did not need to look; his fingers were etched into my memory, slender and petal-veined, strong and quick and never wrong.
“Patroclus,” he said. He was always better with words than I.”
― The Song of Achilles
“That’s all I think about these days. Must be because I have so much time to kill every day. When you don’t have anything to do, your thoughts get really, really far out-so far out
you can’t follow them all the way to the end.”
― The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle
you can’t follow them all the way to the end.”
― The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle
“I have done it," she says. At first I do not understand. But then I see the tomb, and the marks she has made on the stone. A C H I L L E S, it reads. And beside it, P A T R O C L U S.
"Go," she says. "He waits for you."
In the darkness, two shadows, reaching through the hopeless, heavy dusk. Their hands meet, and light spills in a flood like a hundred golden urns pouring out of the sun.”
― The Song of Achilles
"Go," she says. "He waits for you."
In the darkness, two shadows, reaching through the hopeless, heavy dusk. Their hands meet, and light spills in a flood like a hundred golden urns pouring out of the sun.”
― The Song of Achilles
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