Status Updates From Fuegos

My name is Mary: people call me Mary Magdalene. Magdalene is the name of my village, my mother owned fields there and my father owned vineyards. I came from Magdala. At noon, my sister Martha would bring pitchers of beet to the farm workers; but me, I went to them empty-handed; they lapped up my smile; their eyes went over me as though I were an almost ripe fruit which needs only a little more sun to be full-flavroed

Everyone had been settled there for years in a sort of red routine in which war and peace mingled like sand and water in stinking marsh regions.

la parte de aquiles, dios, como llega

Siento que lo que voy a decir es una boludez y es como decir que el agua moja pero el nivel de METÁFORA que maneja esta mujer es increíble. Como persona que se toma muy en serio «La instancia de la letra en el inconsciente...» Lacan, J. (1953) estoy muy conmovido