Today I stayed home for a while, enjoying the solitude given away, not elected, also desired. I've put the film "The Hours", which I think from start to finish a poetry reading, dramatic, spiritual ... a mirror in which I contemplate myself in so many things ... in the desperate drive chains death to life, life to death in endless hours that I'm looking for myself, beyond the skin, ideas, of being or not ....
And, after seeing the movie, I have come to causation in a blog that had an entry titled: "Today I feel a little Virginia Woolf" ( http://images.google.es / imgres? imgurl = http://www.iespana.es/oscardehollywoodweb/oscar2002/nicolekidman.jpg&imgrefurl=http://libertinajegatuno.blogspot.com/2006/03/ayer-estaba-un-poco-virginia-woolf . html & h = 1058 & w = 790 & sz = 78 & hl = en & start = 15 & um = 1 & tbnid = lpnn13YTHW0bMM: & TBNH = 150 & tbnw = 112 & prev = / images% 3Fq% 3Dvirginia% 2Bwoolf% 26um% 3D1% 26hl% 3des% 26sa% 3DN )
..... and the phrase has resounded within me with the forcefulness with a feather ripping the paper it is written a novel, or a life, or the threat of life we \u200b\u200bnever take ... So, with that momentum needed than not to be counted, because it comes only from every pore of the skin ... and has beaten me this sentence, I looked, I was drawn to myself
TODAY I FEEL A LITTLE VIRGINIA WOOLF
And then, in that fleeting moment in which a decision awareness of how the memory of the dead are reincarnated through the living, of how feelings and Special notes dismal start lucidity through literature, of how one discovers within himself small vestiges of worlds and other previously visited ... the ineffable world in which demons are unleashed, the ghosts of the past is projected into the future, and all the tears of life moans and cries and curls up in his hands and grips the soul from the depths ...
could not say how it feels when "is" Virginia Woolf ... as the poet said: " who tasted it, you know."
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