Singapur

una mujer mediocre es como un libro malo,
hacen dudar de la literatura entera,
de lo femenino universal

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Lo que va uno retrasando dia por dia no es el final de la intolerable ansiedad que acusa una separacion, sino la temida vuelta de emociones ineficaces.
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For even if we have the sensation of being always surrounded by our own soul, it is not as though by a motionless prison: rather, we are in some sense borne along with it in a perpetual leap to go beyond it, to reach the outside, with a sort of discouragement as we hear around us always that same resonance, which is not an echo from the outside, but the resounding of an internal vibration.

- the faith with which my mind went to meet his word as though it were a revelation.
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We claim that the nostalgic man, in his attachment to the past, searches for his lost childhood, from where he is henceforth exiled. Yes, no question. But his homesickness has another source. It is not the past that he idealizes; it isn’t the present on which he turns his back, but on what is dying. His wish: that anywhere –whether he changes continents, cities, jobs, loves- he could find his native land, the one where life is born, where is reborn. Nostalgia carries the desire, less for an unchanging eternity than for always fresh beginnings. Thus time that passes and destroys tries to take away the ideal figure of a place that remains. The homeland is one of the metaphors of life.

Antwerpen, January, 2005.
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From the Hundred Year War to the Crimea
With a lance and a musket and a Roman spear
To all of the men who have stood with no fear
In the service of the King

Before you met your fate be sure you
Did not forsake your lover
May not be around anymore

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Contended, she smiles, and forgets...

For whom has she opened up the routes of land and sea?

For whom has she tolied for so many ages to bring safety
and peace to the world?

This never ever crosses her mind.

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