My Dog's Butt Is Red And Inflamed

Of Life and other fictions

To Mary Biloba

evaluate

When given in the grass,

not know what else I remember ...

voice reminds me of the old servant

telling fairy tales and how

Lady dressed as a beggar

night walking along the roads

abused children smiling ...

If I can not believe that's true

why luar gives the grass?

Fernando Pessoa

Literature was not born the day a boy came running shouting valley neanderthal "wolf, wolf" with a big gray wolf at his heels, Nabokov taught students, the literature was born the day a boy came crying "wolf, wolf", without being pursued no wolf.

There is no better example Thousand and One Nights to explain the rationale behind the fiction in the life of human beings. Literature is a permanent relief against misfortune. Fiction is a temporary substitute for life. Our moral is always subjective and ambiguous, and that the border between what we believe we would do and not do is more diffuse than we think normally. The belief in what is written in a book can hold and rebuild what was lost real.

remember that in 1940, sixteen years after Kafka's death, Milena, the woman he had loved, was arrested by the Nazis and sent to a concentration camp. Suddenly life seemed to become its opposite: not death, that is your conclusion, but in a state insane and senseless, a state of brutal suffering that not respond to fault and had no visible purpose. Trying to survive this nightmare, a friend of Milena devised a method: using the books he had read some time and that, unconsciously, stored in memory. Among the texts included memorized one of Maxim Gorky, was born a man . The story of Gorky became for Milena's friend, in his sanctuary, a small safe place where he could retreat from the daily horror. Fiction, not explained or justified, or even offered hope for the uncertain future. Simply existed as an equilibrium point reminding that there was a light amid the darkness and helping them to survive. That, I think, is the power they have to fiction. "Seeing the world through books, the great reader," Manuel Vicent .

I've always fled the cellophane masking and pooling faint, terrifying and amazed by our "reality." I found encouragement in the medical literature that life has breathed me. The fictional life upside down, I always found the fabric mediocre existence. I've always preferred the corners where you save the classicism my early childhood reading corner where you keep, say, the classical world. What gives unity to my life's the literature, all I lived, thought, missed, thought is contained in it. More than a mirror is an X-ray: is the dream of reality. The world is disenchanted and I loved every day with my reading. Life is full with a sense that is taken from what I read in a fiction. What we can imagine there is always at another level, once, sharp and distant, as in a dream.

The other day, walking along the sea, I looked toward the horizon I could see on the surface of the water the back of the Nautilus. Captain Nemo figured invited me to come aboard to sail through the ocean depths and show all its wonders unknown or forgotten. I told myself that if this was not possible, why there is the sea? What am I here?

Schopenhauer defined life as a book read once long ago. Anyone who wishes to stay in touch with the fiction can not escape it. Reading is also going to find something that is about to be and still nobody knows what it is.