Siempre quise trazar con la mano mi silueta, borrar mis ropas, desnudarme delante de un nuevo espejo. El desencadenamiento, lento pero estable, dialoga con nosotros; Nos comunica el frío cálido de una lluvia del norte, el crujido de las hojas de los parques, el olor a té en una trastienda de libros de segunda mano. Voces y caricias en otra lengua (¿o nuestra lengua?) nos comunican quienes somos por segunda vez; nos responden "through a glass of dispossession"
You say I am repeating
Something I have said before. I shall say it again.
Shall I say it again? In order to arrive there,
To arrive where you are, to get from where you are not,
You must go by a way wherein there is no ecstasy.
In order to arrive at what you do not know
You must go by a way which is the way of ignorance.
In order to possess what you do not possess
You must go by the way of dispossession.
In order to arrive at what you are not
You must go through the way in which you are not.
And what you do not know is the only thing you know
And what you own is what you do not own
And where you are is where you are not.
1 comentario:
"And what you do not know is the only thing you know
And what you own is what you do not own
And where you are is where you are not"
A mí esto me suena más a desarraigo.. Siempre nos sentimos desarraigados, arrancados de una tierra que creemos que es nuestra tierra y puestos en otra que creemos que no es la nuestra, pero como tú dices, ¿no es nuestra lengua?, ¿no es nuestra tierra?
Me alegro de que hayas vuelto a casa, M.
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