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365 pages, Paperback
First published November 1, 2011
“One mustn't dream of one's future; one must earn it.”
“I've always thought that anyone who needs to join a herd so badly must be a bit of a sheep himself.”
“The world's very small when you don't have anywhere to go.”
In those days, Christmas still retained a certain aura of magic and mystery. The powdery light of winter, the hopeful expressions of people who lived among the shadows and silences, lent that setting a slight air of promise in which, at least children and those who had learned the art of forgetting, could still believe.Memory is erased as the corrupt surround themselves with their kind then intimidate speakers of truth into suppressing reality and promoting fiction. Although this is not at all referenced here I could not help but think of the McCarthy era in America, and today of those who claim a perfect knowledge of the American founders as a defense of their positions, and any and all political spinmeisters.
I don’t know where I’ve read that deep down we’ve never been who we think we once were, and we only remember what never happenedLies find their way into common experience
I’ve seen a few cases and the patients often hear voices, or they see and remember people and events that have never taken place…The mind slowly deteriorates and the patient can no longer distinguish between reality and fiction.And a bow to the importance of historians, research and writing:
“like seventy percent of Spaniards. “
cities have no memory and they need someone like me, a sage with his feet on the ground, to keep it aliveCemeteries of varying sorts pop up like mushrooms after a shower, Fermin has a close encounter with a particularly grisly one, there is the cemetery of forgotten books of course, and other visits take place as well. They seem to be locales where, ironically, truth is kept alive.
“المستقبل لا يأتي بالأمنيات، انما بالاستحقاقات.”
“هناك أزمنة وأمكنة، أن تكون فيها لا أحد أشرف بكثير من أن تكون فيها أحدا ما.”
يعمد صغار النفوس دائما، الى تقزيم الآخرين
إن الذكريات التي تدفنها في الكتمان هي الذكريات نفسها التي لا تكف عن مطاردتك أبداً
روحي مدانةٌ أساسًا، ولا أمل في إنقاذها إطلاقًا. أعرف أنّني سأكرّس كلّ تنهيدة، من الأنفاس المتبقّية لديّ في هذه الدنيا، في محاولة الثأر
في بعض الأحيان تتعب الروحُ من الهرب. - قال فيرمين - العالم صغيرٌ لدرجة أنّك لا تدري أين تفرّ بجلدك
—Señor Sempere, no es por faltar, pero este niño Jesús es tres veces más grande que su padre putativo y casi no cabe en la cuna.
—No pasa nada. Se les habían acabado los más pequeños.
—Pues a mí me da que al lado de la Virgen parece uno de esos luchadores japoneses con problemas de sobrepeso que llevan el pelo engominado y los calzoncillos ceñidos a la regatera.
—Se llaman luchadores de sumo —dije.
—Esos mismos —convino Fermín.
Mi padre suspiró, negando para sí.
" الحثالة الذين على شاكلتي هم حكام هذا البلد ، والناس الذين هم مثلك يبقون في الظل دائماً. بغض النظر عمّن يمسك بزمام
الأمور."
" هناك ازمنة و اماكن أن تكون فيها لا أحد اشرف بكثير من ان تكون فيها أحد ما "