A veces pienso que las personas están en lo cierto sobre todo, la gente del otro lado en Zombilandia. Tal vez sería mejor si no pudiéramos amar. Si no pudiéramos perdernos. Si no pudieran pisotear nuestros corazones, destrozarlos; si no tuviéramos que remendarlo como monstros Frankenstein, todo cosido junto y ligado por no ser que. Si solo pudiéramos flotar, como la nieve.
Eso es Zombilandia: frio, calma, silencio. Es el mundo después de una nevada, la paz que viene con ella, el silencio sordo y el sentido de que nada en el mundo se mueve. Es hermoso, a su modo. Tal vez es mejor así.
Pero como alguien que ha visto el verano -grandes explosiones de gris y el cielo iluminado como una explosión de electricidad a la puesta del sol, un montón de flores y viento que huele a miel- elegiría la nieve?
Stichwörter: alex-pov
Don't you get that yet? You don't know shit about me, I don't know shit about you. You don't even know shit about you.
Lauren OliverRaven looks at me. “What about you, Lena?”
I can feel Alex’s eyes on me. My mouth is so dry; the sun is so blinding. I look away, toward the hundreds and hundreds of people who have been driven out of their homes, out of their lives, to this place of dust and dirtiness, all because they wanted the power to feel, to think, to choose for themselves. They couldn’t have known that even this was a lie—that we never really choose, not entirely. We are always being pushed and squeezed down one road or another. We have no choice but to step forward, and then step forward again, and then step forward again; suddenly we find ourselves on a road we haven’t chosen at all.
But maybe happiness isn’t in the choosing. Maybe it’s in the fiction, in the pretending: that wherever we have ended up is where we intended to be all along.
Coral shifts, and moves her hand to Alex’s arm.
“I’m with Julian,” I say at last. This, after all, is what I have chosen.
Stichwörter: choice julian lena-halloway
People are like ants: Just a few of them give all the orders. And most of them spend their lives getting squashed.
Lauren OliverThere are no happy endings, only breaks in the regular action.
Lauren OliverHis secret name, which belongs to me, and to him, and to no one else.
Lauren OliverLies are just stories, and stories are all that matter. We all tell stories. Some are more truthful than others, maybe, but in the end the only thing that counts is what you can make people believe.
Lauren OliverStichwörter: lies stories believe
Only humans are unpredictable.
Lauren OliverThat’s what you do for family.
Anything.
The first one, we’ll name Blue.
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