30th April 2005, 05:01 pm
Anoche, sentado frente a las puertas del Reina Sofía, esperando, leía apenas sin luz, forzando mis ojos.
Y, a menudo, rompía a carcajadas.
What do you mean by that? said the Caterpillar sternly. Explain yourself!
I can’t explain MYSELF, I’m afraid, sir said Alice, because I’m not myself, you see.
I don’t see, said the Caterpillar.
I’m afraid I can’t put it more clearly, Alice replied very politely, for I can’t understand it myself to begin with; and being so many different sizes in a day is very confusing.
It isn’t, said the Caterpillar.
Lewis Carroll. Alice in Wonderland
28th April 2005, 08:11 am
En estos días he leído de una Al-Andalus que nunca exitió, de su pérdida. Otra Atlántida hundida.
Y de viajes iniciáticos.
Y quizás mis siguientes lecturas sigan por ese camino.
En un momento en que no anhelo, no necesito ir a nungún lugar. En un momento en que estoy donde deseo estar.
20th April 2005, 09:44 am
Anyway, where humanity gets it wrong, in your time, is in imagining Atlantis as having any kind of quatifiable existence. Which of course it hasn’t. Not in the way they imagine, anyway. There have been many Atlantises, and there will be quite a few more. It’s just a symbol. A Symbol of the Art. The true Atlantis is inside you, just as it’s inside all of us. The sunken land is lost beneath the dark sea, lost beneath the waves of wet, black stories and myths that break upon the shores of our minds. Atlantis is the shadow-land, the birth-place of civilization. The fair land in the west that is lost to us, but remains forever, true birthplace and true goal. It is Lyonesse, and Avalon, and Hy-Brasail.
Neil Gaiman, The Books of Magic