Las cosas duermen,
sueñan pequeños sueños
y despiertan.
A veces incluso les da por hablar,
y es un idioma que parece un zumbido
o un pestañeo.
Por eso dentro de la casa hay un secreto.
El lenguaje de las cosas, María José Ferrada
Early in my life my mother noticed that I coveted the goods of this world. She saw a flaw in my character. “They’re only things, darling”, she’d say, “they’re not important”. I thought then that hers was surely the proper, more elevated perspective. These days I would answer her: Not so, Mama: things are evidence; life accumulates in them, like the snow that falls while you’re sleeping.
Stories I Forgot to Tell You, Dorothy Gallagher