Легендарный роман о городе Санта-Тереза, расположенном на мексикано-американской границе, где сталкиваются заключенные и академики, американский журналист, сходящий с ума философ и таинственный писатель-отшельник. Этот город скрывает страшную тайну. Здесь убивают женщин, количество погибших растет с каждым днем, и вот уже многие годы власти ничего не могут с этим поделать. Санта-Тереза охвачена тьмой, в городе то ли действует серийный убийца, то ли все связала паутина масштабного заговора, и чем...
he pain, or the memory of pain, that here was literally sucked away by something nameless until only a void was left. The knowledge that this question was possible: pain that turns finally into emptiness. The knowledge that the same equation applied to everything, more or less.
Reading is pleasure and happiness to be alive or sadness to be alive and above all it's knowledge and questions.
The truth is we never stop being children, terrible children covered in sores and knotty veins and tumors and age spots, but ultimately children, in other words we never stop clinging to life because we are life.
We play at believing ourselves imortal. We delude oursleves in the appraisal of our own works and in our perpetual misappraisal of the works of others. See you at the Nobel, writers say, as one might say: see you in hell.
People see what they want to see and what people want to see never has anything to do with the truth.
Reading is like thinking, like praying, like talking to a friend, like expressing your ideas, like listening to other people's ideas, like listening to music, like looking at the view, like taking a walk on the beach.
They could read him, they could study him, they could pick him apart, but they couldn't laugh or be sad with him....
Still, American television is full of smiles and more and more perfect-looking teeth. Do these people want us to trust them? No. Do they want us to think they're good people? No again. The truth is they don't want anything from us. They just want to show us their teeth, their smiles, and admiration is all they want in return. Admiration. They want us to look at them, that's all. Their perfect teeth, their perfect bodies, their perfect manners, as if they were constantly breaking away from the sun and they were little pieces of fire, little pieces of blazing hell, here on this planet simply to be worshipped.
Even on the poorest streets people could be heard laughing. Some of these streets were completely dark, like black holes, and the laughter that came from who knows where was the only sign, the only beacon that kept residents and strangers from getting lost.
For her, reading was directly linked to pleasure, not to knowledge or enigmas or constructions or verbal labyrinths…