Status Updates From El rastro

Sad to know the author is against BDS

華麗、綿密、讓人喘不過氣的風格

the truth is she doesn’t want to listen to me, she’s not interested in what I have to say, she wants to be the one talking, she wants to tell me her own version of Juan’s illness (and his death). She explains that when he could no longer breathe properly – how odd is this? she says – he started growing a moustache.

death doesn’t whisper in our ear,it just arrives, alone, without warning us in advance. I don’t care how simple dying or anything else is for that matter, even if it was that simplicity that made his heart explode, made it shatter into pieces (mine too), yes, life, the absurd wound that is life, yes, it’s true, the heart is only a muscle that irrigates the body, keeping it alive, a muscle that one day fails us

The heartbeat – my heartbeat – increases, that’s for sure: the heart is only a muscle, a pump that irrigates the body, keeping it alive (the heart sends venous blood to the lungs for oxygenation, then retrieves it as arterial blood and immediately distributes it around the entire organism). My heart: I wore it on my eyes, as the poem goes.

De momento es curioso, pero no es fácil clasificarlo. Es como estar ante una sonata clásica que martillea constantemente un tema y varía y vuelve sobre si misma, avanzando poco a poco pero sin una pausa. Y sobre todo esto último, porque el libro va a párrafo por página, y da gracias que no son dos y hay algún signo de puntuación, y cada página con sus letras. Y eso sí no se obsesiona con bigotes.

Así las 32 páginas.