For a female writer,
Our “still to be fulfilled” dreams are few, and by the time when you’re reading this they
Will have already awakened us; when I went to school we had one or two who
Closed their eyes before the thunder, very delicate flowers to face a storm like ours,
Very fragile or noble; inside us something did not allow them to live; or it was just
The certainty that they have fulfilled their mission?
“The dimension of our being” does not belong to them, the existence that can not be
Yours; this is a natural law, like our law of pain in the absence of something when
Only this something is already gone: our nostalgiablossomed that makes the flower the
Colors of the rainbow in the fable that does not exist.
“The desire to continue existing is the oldest
and the greatest of all forms of eros”.
Plutarch