«He also failed. He contemplated the ruins of his
failures, but always found the strength to look ahead to what was yet to come.»
By Raquel R. in Short Story number 13
«There is something in the human spirit that will
survive and prevail, there is a tiny and brilliant light burning in the heart
of man that will not go out no matter how dark the world becomes.»
«Small fragments of his life began to flash before him
like an old black and white movie. Except that, in this movie he was the
leading actor. The memories ran gently like a stream in the spring and overflew
his heart with joy and tenderness. He lived his life to the fullest, fought
every war and ran every race.»
By Raquel R. in Short
Story number 13
«We die containing a
richness of lovers and tribes, tastes we have swallowed, bodies we have plunged
into and swum up as if rivers of wisdom, characters we have climbed into as if
trees, fears we have hidden in as if caves. I wish for all this to be
marked on by body when I am dead. I believe in such cartography - to be marked
by nature, not just to label ourselves on a map like the names of rich men and
women on buildings. We are communal histories, communal books. We are not owned
or monogamous in our taste or experience.»
«He could no longer
recognize himself. He saw an old man, whose body had given up, lying in bed.
But one thing still remained the same, though. He had the same expression in
his eyes, he had seen in old photos of when he was just a child.»
By Raquel R. in Short
Story number 13
«A man sets out to draw the
world. As the years go by, he peoples a space with images of provinces,
kingdoms, mountains, bays, ships, islands, fishes, rooms, instruments, stars,
horses, and individuals. A short time before he dies, he discovers that the
patient labyrinth of lines traces the lineaments of his own face.»
Short Story number 13: Inspired by the song «Races» by Glen Hansard from the solo albumRhythm and Repose.
He slowly opened
his eyes. His head was facing the window. As he gradually adjusted his eyes to
the luminosity of the room he was able to clearly distinguish the blue skies
out there. He turned his head around. He saw himself reflected in the mirror on
the wall. He could no longer recognize himself. He saw an old man, whose body
had given up, lying in bed. But one thing still remained the same, though. He
had the same expression in his eyes, he had seen in old photos of when he was
just a child.
He turned his head again to the window. It was the only connection to
the world outside, of which, he once was part of. He felt that the end was
near. Small fragments of his life began to flash before him like an old black
and white movie. Except that, in this movie he was the leading actor. The
memories ran gently like a stream in the spring and overflew his heart with joy
and tenderness. He lived his life to the fullest, fought every war and ran
every race. Never denied to fight for his dreams, although, sometimes he
doubted himself and allowed weaknesses paralyze him. He also failed. He
contemplated the ruins of his failures, but always found the strength to look
ahead to what was yet to come.
That strength he possessed to overcome all the hurdles in live came from
the absolute knowledge that the most important things in live are not visible.
They can only be felt. And for that reason he always found within his heart the
meaning of live.
He closed his eyes, and in the profound silence of his bedroom, he
clearly heard the beating of his heart. Yes, it was there, that he stored and
concentrated his most precious possession: love. In every inch of the tired and
old muscle was imprinted an intricate web of feelings that connected him to
those he ever loved and were once part of his life. Because of them he knew
that live did not just pass by him. He lived it well.
He knew that even the stars stop shinning and die. But he also knew,
that its light would endure forever, as it travels the universe for years to
come, leaving behind a trace of immortality.
«To catch her of guard was the best way to throw her a
lifeline that would pull her back to him and away from the dark places that
sometimes lured her.»
By Raquel R.
in Short Story number 12
«We die to each other daily. What we know of other
people is only our memory of the moments during which we knew them. And they
have changed since then. To pretend that they and we are the same is a useful
and convenient social convention which must sometimes be broken. We must also
remember that at every meeting we are meeting a stranger.»
«Ultimately, throughout the course of their
relationship, they both became specialists in each other’s non-verbal language,
which they carefully learned to interpret, to the point of consider it to be
much more assertive and reliable, in conveying a message, than, actually,
words.»
By Raquel R.
in Short Story number 12
«You're so calm and quiet, you never say. But there
are things inside you. I see them sometimes, hiding in your eyes.»
«He could not remember of a better way to pull oneself
together and to restore one’s faith in life, than to indulge one’s sense of
freedom by having an open road right in front of us, along with the illusory
sensation of leaving everything behind.»
By Raquel R. in Short Story number 12
«People often ask me questions that I cannot very well
answer in words, and it makes me sad to think they are unable to hear the voice
of my silence.»
«So, every time he felt on the verge of being swept
away by anxiety and his thoughts were dangerously becoming an incoherent mush,
he would get on his car and drive without a specific destination.»
By Raquel R.
in Short Story number 12
«I came to a point where I needed solitude and just
stop the machine of ‘thinking’ and ‘enjoying’ what they call ‘living’, I just
wanted to lie in the grass and look at the clouds.»
«Having confirmed her suspicions she directed again
her attention to what was happening outside. This was one of the typical
diverting maneuvers, that were part of a complex strategy, created and refined
by her, in order to avoid or try to postpone, for as long as she could, the
inevitability of having to deal with every kind of painful situations that came
her way.»
By Raquel R.
in Short Story number 12
«The body shuts down when it has too much to bear;
goes its own way quietly inside, waiting for a better time, leaving you numb
and half alive.»
