Manuela Castro > Recent Status Updates

Pero son todas preguntas inútiles. No hay manía más funesta, ni capricho más peligroso, que la especulación o la conjetura sobre los caminos que no tomamos.

Y con esta sencillez acabó todo. Salvo en las óperas y los melodramas, la muerte es un anticlímax.

Uno sería infinitamente generoso con los muertos amados: pero claro, siempre es mucho más difícil ser generoso con los vivos.

Para morir se debe preparar la casa, recibir al niño que supimos ser. Saberle pedir perdón por tanta traición cometida, por tanta mentira, por tanta sistemática decepción, por el rumbo perdido, por tanta belleza pasada por alto.

What good was a soft boy in a hard world?

She had loved him, and he had needed to break her completely to leave her for good.
Agnes Bain was too rare a thing to let someone else love. It wouldn't do to leave pieces of her for another man to collect and repair later.

How cyclical and bittersweet for a child to trace the image of their mother. For a subject to turn back to document their archivist.

“When one person collapses, the other instinctively shoulders their weight.”

No existen las experiencias individuales…

“Or perhaps it was simply that things were happening inside her, terrible things, which no one else could even guess at, and thus it was impossible for her to engage with everyday life at the same time.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being quiet, after all, hadn’t women traditionally been expected to be demure and restrained?”

No sabemos cómo viviremos el dolor hasta que la pena nos alcanza.

(…) lo perfecto no existió ni existirá nunca, al menos en este mundo.

La verdadera vida es física, y lo que la muerte se lleva es un cuerpo y un rostro irrepetibles: el alma que es el cuerpo.

“No permito que nada me quite la voluntad de poder dirigir mis actos.”

“We have no way of knowing that the funeral itself will be anodyne, a kind of narcotic regression in which we are wrapped in the case of others and the gravity and meaning of the occasion. Nor can we know ahead of the fact the unending absence that follows, the void, the very opposite of meaning, the relentless succession of moments during which we will confront the experience of meaningless itself.”

“Grief was passive. Grief happened. Morning, the act of dealing with grief, required attention.”

“Grief has no distance. Grief comes in waves, paroxysms, sudden apprehensions that weaken the knees and blind the eyes and obliterate the dailiness of life.”

“Believing that life will someday be wonderful isn't a bad thing, in fact it is absolutely necessary. To know the truth—life is hard, and then you die—isn't a very comfortable thing to live with.”