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344 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 2004
... spinning head isn't the only thing that's discombobulated; above all, it's reality itself, with the ambiguous weight of its double load
[Agustina] scrawls pictures to explain what's wrong with her. She draws rings surrounded by bigger rings, rings that detach themselves from other rings like clusters of anxiety, and she says that they're the cells of her resurrected body reproducing themselves and saving her.
I've loved Agustina so much ... I've protected her from her family, her past, the workings of her own mind... refusing to accept the possibility that just now she might be better off inside than out, that behind the walls of her delirium, Agustina is perfectly happy.
I'm going to tell you point-blank because you have the right to know, Agustina sweetheart... Will you believe me if I tell you that this disaster started with a simple bet? ... the lowest kind of bet, a dirty joke, if we're going to call things by their true names, a prank that turned bloody.
So this, Agustina princess, is how we came to the end of the farce, because life sets the stage, and we little puppets dance whatever tune they play for us.
The problem is that their father is always after Bichi, he had it in for him because he's the youngest, not like Joaco... and my father never hits him or tells him he's done anything wrong, even when they call home from the Boys School to say that he lit a fire in the toolroom or did bad things to the caretaker's dog, and when their father finds out he orders Joaco into the study and then scolds him, but half heartedly, as if he'd like to praise him instead...
Listen Bichi, my pale-skinned little darling, we can't blame my father for liking Joaco better, because after all you and I perform ceremonies that we shouldn't...
...the young Nicholas, a talented and precocious piano player, was slow- witted and hopeless when it came to speaking...
But other times [adult] Nicholas would be moved to unleash a torrent of words and string together one sentence after another in bad Spanish, assembling mixed-up and dizzying trains of thought, and then Blanca was afraid and sought shelter beneath a black umbrella of inscrutability from the rain of syllables flooding her soul.
...life is hazardous in and of itself and likely to play dirty with us, but also because in a country like this, split from top to bottom by a mountain range, the highways... they're seized every other day by the army, the paramilitaries, or the guerrillas, who kidnap you, kill you, or assault you with grenades, beatings, gunfire, explosives, antipersonnel mines, or the massive detonation of propane tanks.
(�) é que o delírio carece de memória, reproduz-se por partenogénese, enrosca-se em si próprio e prescinde do afecto, mas sobretudo carece de memória.
“Todos los secretos están guardados en un mismo cajón, el cajón de los secretos, y si develas uno, corres el riesgo de que pase lo mismo con los demás.�
“Toda gran historia es como un gran pastel, cada quien da cuenta de la tajada que se come y el único que da cuenta de todo es el pastelero.�
"Pretendo liberarla de su tormento interior al precio que sea, negándome a aceptar la posibilidad de que en este momento para ella sea mejor su adentro que su afuera; que tras los muros de su delirio, Agustina celebre fiestas."