emily’s Reviews > 2666 > Status Update
emily
is on page 702 of 912
‘—bypassing the abyss—The fourth dimension, he liked to say, encompasses the three dimensions—consequently puts them in their place—it obliterates the dictatorship of the three dimensions—thereby obliterates the three-dimensional world we know and live in. The fourth dimension, he said, was expressible only through music—because only an idiot / a nihilist could fail to see or sense the potential it held for progress’
— 1 hour, 18 min ago
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emily’s Previous Updates
emily
is on page 692 of 912
‘Healthy people flee contact with the diseased. He feared neither the healthy nor the diseased. The diseased, anyway, are more interesting than the healthy. The words of the diseased, even those who can manage only a murmur, carry more weight. Then, too, all healthy people will in the future know disease. That sense of time, ah, the diseased man’s sense of time—the diseased truly bite, whereas the healthy pretend—’
— May 17, 2026 06:57PM
emily
is on page 687 of 912
‘The—time he almost drowned was when he went with some fishermen to cast nets across from the Village of Blue Women. It was—dark—fishermen began to talk about the lights that moved at the bottom of the sea. A redemption that smelled of peat smoke, of cabbage soup—A redemption that smelled of mirror, he thought, nearly choking on his bread. ‘I read Goethe until I couldn’t read anymore (Goethe, of course—is infinite)’’
— May 01, 2026 06:41PM
emily
is on page 678 of 912
‘Bright colours in the west, giant butterflies dancing as night crept—toward the east. The discovery was made by Santiago Catalán—dogs began to quiver as if they’d scented a tiger or a bear. But since there are no tigers or bears around here I got it in my head that they’d scented the ghost of a tiger or a bear—cholla and biznaga cactuses—in the distance a saguaro—spectrum of yellows, one shading into another.’
— Apr 29, 2026 04:42PM
emily
is on page 639 of 912
‘Do you know which Mexican city has the lowest female unemployment rate? Sergio González glimpsed the desert moon, a fragment, a helicoidal slice, rising above the roofs. Santa Teresa? he asked. Badly paid and exploitative work, with ridiculous hours. Because—Mexican ladies have hearts of gold? More like a heart of flint, thought Sergio, to endure so much. Sitting—next to Haas—red & blue flowers, an unknown variety.'
— Apr 27, 2026 04:09AM
emily
is on page 628 of 912
‘Today is the indoor football match—Are you going to play? asked Sergio. Maybe, maybe not, I’m a substitute, said Márquez. As they were leaving the locker room, the inspector told him he shouldn’t try to find a logical explanation for the crimes. It’s fucked up, that’s the only explanation, said Márquez. Living in this desert—is like living at sea. The cities and towns are boats. The desert is an endless sea.’
— Apr 25, 2026 02:46PM
emily
is on page 609 of 912
‘—highways of freedom—evil is like a Ferrari—his laughter—lost among—flower beds—Security is getting more & more expensive, Macario said—as he walked—a path lined w/ bougainvilleas. But I don’t think I’ll have to use the gun—Some people hold grudges for a long time—in Mexico we don’t know how to be good sports. Of course, if you lose you die & if you win sometimes you die too—some of us try to fight the good fight’
— Apr 20, 2026 01:46AM
emily
is on page 510 of 912
‘The idea that some places are the same as others is a lie. The world is a kind of tremor. For example: if the poppy lifts its petals, the weather will be fine. For example: if a poplar begins to quiver, something unexpected will happen. For example: if the little flower with white petals & a tiny yellow corolla, called the pijulí, bows its head, it will be hot—if the little rascal shuts, then rain is coming.’
— Apr 17, 2026 04:15AM
emily
is on page 399 of 912
‘What’s sacred to me? thought Fate. Desert Eagle. The scarred moon still shone in the sky. The house—was always clean, but its cleanliness—lacked any feminine touch—it was a stoic cleanliness—tended toward sparseness, not abundance. The two of them began to eat in silence—The books she read he had never heard of. The music made him—drowsy—nothing ever disappears—she went running into the woods & he lost sight of her’
— Apr 15, 2026 11:05AM
emily
is on page 360 of 912
‘Everything was passed through the filter of words, everything trimmed to fit our fear. That said, words back then were mostly used in the art of avoidance, not of revelation. But they revealed something all the same. On his way out of Patagonia he saw a horse. When—headlights swept over it the horse lifted its head & looked at him. Oil, thought Fate, but he didn’t say it. Time, said Chucho Flores. Who? asked Fate.’
— Apr 08, 2026 05:06PM
emily
is on page 333 of 912
‘The pain doesn’t matter—as long as it isn’t unbearable. & all around him, ghosts. Life is demand & supply—but that’s no way to live. A third leg is needed to keep the table from collapsing into—garbage pit of history. But the sun has its uses—any fool knows—From up close it’s hell, but from far away you’d have to be a vampire not to see how useful it is. Maybe now is the time for a recipe: Brussels Sprouts & Lemon.’
— Apr 05, 2026 05:21PM
