Ostrava

“Nuestra vida son los ríos
que van a dar en la mar,
que es el morir”
― Jorge Manrique, Coplas a la muerte de su padre

“I have always imagined that Paradise will be a kind of library.”
― Jorge Luis Borges

“It occurs to me that our survival may depend upon our talking to one another.”
― Dan Simmons, Hyperion

“He rose and turned toward the lights of town. The tidepools bright as smelterpots among the dark rocks where the phosphorescent seacrabs clambered back. Passing through the salt grass he looked back. The horse had not moved. A ship's light winked in the swells. The colt stood against the horse with its head down and the horse was watching, out there past men's knowing, where the stars are drowning and whales ferry their vast souls through the black and seamless sea.”
― Cormac McCarthy, Blood Meridian, or, the Evening Redness in the West