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...beware the discreet charm of the owl

Piles of Books
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WRITING OWL

"Such deliverance did he come to embody,
Proudly exposing the putrified body,
One might have confused his fallen nose
For some holy relic only the Pope knows.
‘For Jesus’, said he, ‘loves best the weak’,
His discourse had a certain mystique,
And slowly his listeners started to pile,
For a clever beggar was he, with a merchant’s wile."

NATURE OWL

"But of late there was copious rain, blessed rain. The last summer had been a glorious shade of green, from the undulating hills, to the sturdy high trees, to the parasitic shrubs blocking the dirt tracks; all indomitable and proud effervescence. She did not even mind the humidity. Not when everything grew around her and the grass was no longer a sickly yellow shade."

NIGHT OWL

"And as she listened closer, she discerned in the black birds’ voices a sort of dance, a blind dance in the pit of darkness; and could see, yes, could see, the dark wings rashly flapping, the swarming bodies perched on cavities unheard of, some swollen, some rigid; and the mouths, the little mouths sucking ceaselessly, the sharp white teeth gnawing at the abyss; and last of all the bloodshot eyes, and the life, the blind life festering in them, and she let out a scream that bore all the terror and the joy in her life."

 
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"Las cosas se duplican en Tlön; propenden asimismo a borrarse y a perder los detalles cuando los olvida la gente. Es clásico el ejemplo de un umbral que perduró mientras lo visitaba un mendigo y que se perdió de vista a su muerte. A veces unos pájaros, un caballo, han salvado las ruinas de un anfiteatro."

Jorge Luis Borges

 

CONTACT ME

Montevideo, Uruguay

Javier Aldabalde

 
 

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