Felipe González

“If this were a story, we could affirm that it was a stereotype of an old lady, within a space that had lost its daily life around the corner.”

““Godín”, is said in Mexico of the office worker from nine to eighteen hours or of any other employee to whom his immediate boss says, during his first day of work and with all the naturalness in the world: “Welcome. From today, your body and soul belong to us.”

“Suddenly, as the sun rose, the poem flew without an owner, while he faded away like a fiction called a “story.””

“She, perhaps, with a consciousness that many of us in adulthood lack or simply lost, would associate that so much water falling on our fat and heavy heads was due to the crying of some poet who was walking by.”

“I'll go out on a limb and say that that glow arose from his past.”

“That apartment was everything those two lovers needed, locked up by their own will in a space and time, paradoxically, of absolute freedom.”

“For the reader, perhaps, this situation will be sadly familiar: witnessing, discovering in these lines, how in a matter of years, what was an eternal oath, had become something so fragile, so disposable, so insignificant.”

“Waking up, at forty years old, had become somewhat difficult, not only that morning, but since he was thirty.”

“Then, Evaristo felt in his hands the exercise of the power that Foucault spoke so much about, and he felt it like someone who discovers fear in his fellow men.”

“Soon the crashes, the blackouts, the hypothermias, the demands for public lighting and a lot of misdeeds will hide the disappearances, the plots, the deaths, the domestic violence, the corruptions and a long etcetera…”

“Conditioned like sheep in a flock, they have only managed to say “beee”, which translated into martial language would be “Yes, sir.””

“That work pride, that ridiculous work pride has put an end to his illusions, with those few illusions that he still had since at school they promised him a magnificent future just for entering university.”

“No, they never expected or sensed the wishes of that omniscient narrator who, at times, wondered, accompanied by a glass of cabernet, about how his story should be constructed, how this story should develop.”

“…Who better than a Latin American to write about dirty tricks and other stories.”

“Surrendering to state or private financing is bullshit.”

“I think that a literary work should not be a piece of spit thrown onto the road.”

“She kept saying “I love you,” every time they finished, every time he lost himself inside her, every time they reached that amazing ecstasy of two bodies that already know each other; But, deep down, she, little by little, had begun to doubt that “eternal love,” that verb so easy to conjugate.”

“Surrendering to state or private financing is bullshit.”

“…the walls of his house were full of images of a happy past, which in his mind seemed like a constant outside of time.”