—Aunque por otro lado pienso que no debería verte nunca. Pero te veré porque te necesito.
Ernesto SabatoTe estoy viendo, sé que estoy aquí a tu lado, pero también sé que estoy en otra parte, muy lejos, en un cuarto oscuro y cerrado. Me buscan para sacarme los ojos y matarme.
Ernesto Sabato¿Te imaginas qué lindo vivir juntos durante años, acostarnos en la misma cama, a lo mejor vernos desnudos y vencer la tentación de tocarnos y de besarnos?
Ernesto SabatoMartin looked at Alejandra with a pained expression. How he detested that face of hers, her boutique-face, the one that she seemed to put on deliberately in order to play her role in that frivolous world; a face that seemed to linger on once she found herself alone with him, its abominable features fading away only very slowly, as there gradually emerged one or another of the faces that belonged to him alone, a face he waited for as one awaits a beloved traveler amid a repulsive crowd. But as Bruno said, the word person means "mask", and each of us has many masks; that of father, professor, lover....But which is the real one? And is there in fact one that is the real one? At certain moments Martin thought that the Alejandra that he was now seeing there before him, laughing at Bobby's jokes, was not, could not be the same Alejandra that he knew, and above all could not be the more profound, the marvelous and fearsome Alejandra that he loved. But at other times (and as the weeks went by the more he began to be convinced of it), he was inclined to think, as Bruno did, that all these Alejandras were real and that that boutique-face was genuine too and in some way or other expressed a sort of reality inherent in Alejandra's soul: a reality--and heaven only knew how many others there were!---that was foreign to him, that did not belong to him and never would. And then, when she came to him still bearing the faint traces of those other personalities, as though she had not had the time (or the desire?) to transform herself, Martin discovered--in a certain sarcastic grin on her lips, in a certain way of moving her hands, in a certain glint in her eyes--the lingering signs of a strange existence: like someone who has been around a garbage dump and still retains something of its foul stench in our presence.
Ernesto SabatoUp there in my little room I was reading revolutionary works and had the feeling that the whole world might explode at any moment; then when I went out, I found life going on as usual, peacefully and calmly: office workers were going off to their jobs, tradesmen were selling their wares in their shops, and one could even see people lazing on benches in the squares, just sitting there watching the hours go by: all of them equally dull and monotonous. Once again, and this would not be the last time, I felt more or less as though I were a stranger in the world, as though I had awakened in it all of a sudden and had no notion of its laws and meaning. I wandered aimlessly about the streets of Buenos Aires, I watched its people, I sat down on a bench in the Plaza Constitucion and meditated. Then I would return to my little room, feeling lonelier than ever. And it was only when I buried myself in books that I seemed to be in touch with reality again, as though that existence out in the streets were, by contrast, a sort of vast dream unfolding in the minds of hypnotized people. It took me many years to realize that in those streets, those public sqaures, and even in those business establishments and offices of Buenos Aires there were thousands who thought or felt more or less as I did at that moment: lonely anguished people, people pondering the sense and nonsense of life, people who had the feeling that they were seeing a world that had gone to sleep round about them, a world made up of men and women who had been hypnotized or turned into robots.
Ernesto SabatoGet a move on, Perico, and go ask him for the battery charger," and the apprentice hurried out, but everything was like a dream and what was the point of any of it: battery chargers, wrenches, mechanics, and he felt sorry for the terrified little boy because, he thought, all of us are dreaming and why punish kids and why fix cars and have crushes on nice boys and then get married and have children who also dream that they're alive, who have to suffer, go off to war or fight or give up hope all on account of mere dreams. He was simply drifting along now, like a boat without a crew swept along by shifting currents, and moving mechanically like those invalids who have lost almost all will and consciousness and yet allow themselves to be moved by the nurses and obey the instructions they are given with the obscure remains of that will and that consciousness without knowing why. The 493, he thought, I go as far as Chacarita and then I take the subway to Florida and then I walk from there to the hotel. So he got on the 493 and mechanically asked for a ticket, and for half an hour continued to see ghosts dreaming of things that kept them very busy; at the Florida stop he went out the exit on the Calle San Martin, walked along the Corrientes to Reconquista and from there headed for the Warszawa rooming house, Accommodations for Gentlemen, went up dirty, dilapidated stairs to the fourth floor, and threw himself on the wretched bed as though he had been wandering through labyrinths for centuries.
Ernesto Sabatoالبته که دوستت دارم، احمق جان. ولی آزارت میدهم. دلیلش هم صاف و ساده این است که دوستت دارم، این را میفهمی؟ آدم کسانی را که به آنها بی تفاوت است آزار نمیدهد.
Ernesto SabatoStichwörter: love
...La frase "todo tiempo pasado fue mejor" no indica que antes sucedieran menos
cosas malas, sino que —felizmente— la gente las echa en el olvido. Desde luego, semejante frase no
tiene validez universal; yo, por ejemplo, me caracterizo por recordar preferentemente los hechos
malos y, así, casi podría decir que "todo tiempo pasado fue peor", si no fuera porque el presente me
parece tan horrible como el pasado...
Frente a cuestiones inefables es infructuoso tratar de acercarnos por medio de definiciones. La incapacidad de los discursos filosóficos, teológicos o matemáticos para responder a estos grandes interrogantes revela que la condición última del hombre es trascendente, y por lo tanto, misteriosa, inasible.
Ernesto SabatoEntre lo que deseamos vivir y el intrascendente ajetreo en que sucede la mayor parte de la vida se abre una cuña en el alma que separa a hombre de la felicidad como al exiliado de su tierra.
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