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And no one ever told me about the laziness of grief. Except at my job — where the machine seems to run on much as usual — I loathe the slightest effort. Not only writing but even reading a letter is too much. Even shaving. What does it matter now whether my cheek is rough or smooth?

I'm alive. Here. With books. And words. And an alarming amount of caffeine that I'm trying to cut down on.

After a dramatic hiatus, I'm back to reading and writing. Also, I’ve launched a Substack: https://florenciabrino.substack.com — if you're around, come say hi :)

Hope you're all doing well.

As a general update, I realise I haven’t shared any updates since January 2023 ._. I have plenty of good excuses, but I won’t bore you with them. I’ve been active on Instagram (@florencebrino), where I share my passion for literature and content creation. If you're on there as well, come say hi! (But Goodreads will always hold a special place in my heart – it gave me a new life.)
Wishing you all a wonderful 2025 ♥

Chapter 15: Floating and positioning.

'Once you have kissed a corpse on the forehead there always remains something on your lips, a distant bitterness, an aftertaste of the void that nothing will efface.'

According to Emily Dickinson, ‘hold dear to your parents for it is a scary and confusing world without them.’
It is a scary and confusing world for me now; my mother passed away. But, as Rumi said, I hope the love I’ve lost comes round in another form.
I’ll take some time off from daily interactions. I hope you are all well.

Wishing you all a safe, healthy, and prosperous new year. Cheers to new beginnings, new friends and great literature. :)
Feliz año nuevo.

...en una ocasión en que éste explicaba con muchos pormenores el mecanismo del amor, lo interrumpió para preguntarle: "¿Qué se siente?" José Arcadio le dio una respuesta inmediata:
—Es como un temblor de tierra.
*
...on one occasion when the latter was explaining in great detail the mechanisms of love, he interrupted him to ask: “What does it feel like?” José Arcadio gave an immediate reply...

La ciencia ha eliminado las distancias.
*
Science has eliminated distance.

this world of ours:
viewing blossoms on the surface
above hell

*

yo no naka wa / jigoku no ue no / hanami kana

Issa. A sober twist on clichés about how cherry blossoms make the world appear heavenly.

...empezaba a sentir ese agobio que causa la repetición de la misma vida cuando ningún interés la dirige ni esperanza alguna la sostiene. Estaba tan aburrido de Yonville y de sus habitantes que la vista de ciertas personas, de ciertas casas, lo irritaba a más no poder; y el farmacéutico, pese a lo buena persona que era, empezaba a parecerle totalmente insufrible. Pero la perspectiva de una situación nueva...

...if this sounds like nostalgia, it’s the nostalgia for something I’ve never known—which is, admittedly, the more toxic kind.

—¿No le ha ocurrido a veces —prosiguió León— encontrar en un libro una idea vaga que se ha tenido, alguna imagen borrosa que vuelve de lejos, y es algo así como la exposición completa de nuestro sentimiento más sutil?
*
“Has it ever happened to you,” Léon went on, “to come across some vague idea of one’s own in a book, some dim image that comes back to you from afar, and as the completest expression of your own...

...entonces, apoyándose en el secreter, permaneció hasta la noche sumido en una dolorosa ensoñación. Después de todo, la había querido.

*

...then, leaning against the writing-table, he stayed until the evening, buried in a sorrowful reverie. She had loved him after all.

THE ISLAND of Sado—
morning and evening I often see it in my dreams,
Together with the gentle face of my mother.

I SEEM to hear your voice in the
song of the hototogisu.
In the mountains, another day passes.

Out of respect for those who take some time to write a comment, I don't like to leave them unanswered. But--for some reason only Goodreads knows--when it comes to comments, I stopped receiving email notifications again, so it's difficult to keep track. I apologise if I haven't answered yet.

ONCE AGAIN, many greedy people appear
No different from silkworms wrapped in cocoons.
Wealth and riches are all they love,
Never giving their minds or bodies a moment’s rest.
Every year their natures deteriorate
While their vanity increases.
One morning death comes before
They can use even half their money.
Others happily receive the estate,
And the deceased’s name is soon lost in darkness.
For such people-

- Nadie puede leer dos mil libros. En los cuatro siglos que vivo no habré pasado de una media docena. Además no importa leer sino releer.
*
"No one can read two thousand books. In the four hundred years I have lived, I've not read more than half a dozen. And in any case, it is not the reading that matters, but the re-reading.

(Utopía de un hombre que está cansado/A Weary Man's Utopia)

If I call myself an atheist at twenty, and an agnostic at fifty and sixty, it isn't because I have acquired more knowledge in the meantime: just more awareness of ignorance. How can we be sure that we know enough to know?

He cavilado mucho sobre este encuentro, que no he contado a nadie. Creo haber descubierto la clave. El encuentro fue real, pero el otro conversó conmigo en un sueño y fue así que pudo olvidarme; yo conversé con él en la vigilia y todavía me atormenta el encuentro.
*
I have thought a great deal about this encounter, which I've never told anyone about. I believe I have discovered the key to it. The encounter was...

I don’t believe in God but I miss Him. That’s what I say when the question is put.

Reality Demands
…
This terrifying world is not devoid of charms,
of the mornings
that make waking up worthwhile.

from The End and the Beginning (1993)

Smiles
…
Dreamers keep saying, “Human brotherhood
will make this place a smiling paradise.”
I’m not convinced. The statesman, in that case,
would not require facial exercise,
except from time to time: he’s feeling good,
he’s glad it’s spring, and so he moves his face.
But human beings are, by nature, sad.
So be it, then. It isn’t all that bad.

from A Large Number (1976)

The letters of the dead
We read the letters of the dead like helpless gods,
but gods, nonetheless, since we know the dates that follow.
We know which debts will never be repaid.
…

from Could Have (1972)

The joy of writing
…
Is there then a world
where I rule absolutely on fate?
A time I bind with chains of signs?
An existence become endless at my bidding?

The joy of writing.
The power of preserving.
Revenge of a mortal hand.

From No End of Fun (1967)

Travel Elegy
Everything’s mine but just on loan,
nothing for the memory to hold,
though mine as long as I look.
…

from Salt (1962)

If one can select any year which marks Australia’s transition from its traditional role as echo and image of Britain and an outpost of Europe, the year which stands out is 1941. […] the end of a time when heredity ceased to be so powerful, when Australians ceased to have nearly all their emotional, commercial, military, financial and human ties with Britain.

'That is why, when I come to read what you have written, I may make some caustic remarks, but you must not bear me any grudge on that account. Their purpose will not be to offend you. [...]
In brief, all this has no connection with social conventions, of which the sole object is to maintain the status quo and of which the supreme value is superficial smoothness. Have I made myself clear?'
She acquiesced and...

Conscience is a whole tribunal that you carry in yourself. It’s not only a judge, but a court with a jury and the full apparatus of defense and prosecution.