Status Updates From Twenty Minutes of Silence

I believe this is the weirdest (in a positive way) book I’ve ever read (even weirder than Canto yo y la montaña baila). I expected a thriller novel, but instead I’m chasing the author’s mind through questions about a murder and, like her at this point, I’m questioning myself about who the killer is. I’ll keep you posted

“Poetic language is necessarily the language of difficult times. It is the language of suffering and everyday normal expression in times of war. In a noisy anxious world, it is the sentence that makes itself heard. A sentence that has no choice but to be haunting and painful. It might be cruel. Evidence that it’s in the right place”.