jueves, 9 de mayo de 2013

Halfway across

 


(...)I woke up as the sun was reddening; and that was the one distinct time in my life, the strangest moment of all, when I didn't know who I was — I was far away from home, haunted and tired with travel, in a cheap hotel room I'd never seen, hearing the hiss of steam outside, and the creak of the old wood of the hotel, and footsteps upstairs, and all the sad sounds, and I looked at the cracked high ceiling and really didn't know who I was for about fifteen strange seconds. I wasn't scared; I was just somebody else, some stanger, and my whole life was a haunted life, the life of a ghost. I was halfway across America, at the dividing line between the East of my youth and the West of my future. (...)
ON THE ROAD. J. Kerouac


 
 
 
¿Y qué pasa si vuelven las sombras, o la locura? ¿si aún habiendo aprendido sabemos que no podremos evitar mirar tras la ventana y hacia la escaleras donde nos esperan; y hacia arriba y hacia abajo y de reojo y enfurecernos con el todo por la nada; Y que demasiado parar es aparcar un coche recién comprado en un desguace?  ¿De que sirve entender todos los códigos y no decirte que te quiero cuando corresponde?

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