Me quitaron las ganas de escribir.
Yo iba a decir que de hada madrina busco empleo, aparecer en la madrugada y cumplir deseos. Pero esto me ha rebasado. Me duele. Me llora. Me derrota. Me enfurece.
Es mi escuela. En la que pienso cuando me siento nostálgica, la que defiendo de mis argumentos. Mi Alma Mater, por la que trabajé en Merkafón y a la que le debo 13 mil euros.
¿Y esto... por qué?
What thou seest,
ResponderEliminarWhat there thou seest fair creature is thyself,
With thee it came and goes: but follow me,
And I will bring thee where no shadow stays
Thy coming, and thy soft embraces, he
Whose image thou art, him thou shall enjoy
Inseparably thine, to him shalt bear
Multitudes like thyself, and thence be called
Mother of the human race.(IV, 467-75).
John Milton
But to Adam in what sort
ResponderEliminarShall I appear? Shall I to him make known
As yet my change, and give him to partake
Full happiness with me, or rather not,
But keep the odds of Knowledge in my power
Without Copartner? So to add what wants
In Female Sex, the more to draw his Love,
And render me more equal, and perhaps,
A thing not undesirable, sometime,
Superior: for inferior who is free?(IX, 816-25).
John Milton