Cómo agota hablar con un ciego - Fabio Morabito

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Cómo agota hablar con un ciego - Fabio Morabito
Escribo para no quedaren medio de mi carne,
para que no me tiente el centro,
para rodear y resistir,
escribo para hacerme a un lado,
pero sin alcanzar a desprenderme.
(Fabio Morábito)
There are trees that a forest depends upon. Could be that they’re not the oldest trees, or the tallest; could be that they can’t be distinguished from all the other trees, but for some reason they are the plants that took that decisive step into the subsoil, that leaned their trunks in the right direction at the appropriate time and opened the way for its congeners to transform a simple copse into a forest. The same happens with books. Our library depends on a few of them. Could be that they’re neither the oldest, nor the ones we love the most, nor the ones we’ve read the most, but for some reason they have determined the orientation and personality of the whole.
Selections From Mother Tongue (El idioma materno) by Fabio Morabito, translated from Spanish by Curtis Bauer
The Shadow of the Mammoth: Stories
By Fabio Morábito.
Design by Jared Bartman.
Nessun nome per Emilio
Fabio Morábito https://fb.watch/aRvAYw-xvi/
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No he dominado nada tuyo, nada de ti se me ha rendido, estás como te conocí, y si te doy la mano o te rodeo con ella la cintura, me cuesta todavía acoplarme a tu temperatura, porque te temo aún.
Fabio Morábito, Iré a Sao Paulo un día.
De lunes todo el año (A tientas)
Cada libro que escribo me envejece, me vuelve un descreído. Escribo en contra de mis pensamientos y en contra del ruido de mis hábitos. Con cada libro pago un viaje que no hice. En cada página que acabo cumplo con un acuerdo, me digo adiós desde lo más recóndito, pero sin alcanzar a ir muy lejos. Escribo para no quedar en medio de mi carne, para que no me tiente el centro, para rodear y resistir, escribo para hacerme a un lado, pero sin alcanzar a desprenderme.
Fabio Morabito