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Psychoanalysis, dialectic materialism, nothing; laws of supply and demand, nothing, nothing; fiction, nothing. Nothing seemed applicable…
In 1943, the nights were black. The country was at war with Germany and a blackout was instituted, perforated from time to time by fifth-columnists lighting cigarettes to reveal Bom Fim’s defensive…
There is much I cannot tell you. I am not going to be autobiographical. I want to be “bio.”
I write with the flow of the words.
Before the appearance of the mirror, the person didn’t know his own face…
All illusions lost, the only thing really left for him to do was to take that step. The gangplank already hauled off, and the last whistle blown, the steamship would weigh anchor. He again looked at…
I just can’t. Should I? I feel like going in, but I just can’t; I remain stationary. The church door opens and closes, continually, and I open and close with it, split asunder. Warmth escapes from…
Yom Kippur and Rosh Hashanah, the so-called “Days of Awe” arrived.
There was no Jew in all of Bom Retiro who, God forbid, would ever think of not observing them. Any endeavor, no matter how important…