The Plains

Que alguien pare el tren que me acaba de arrollar.

Este libro es absolutamente increíble. Es una mezcla entre poesia, filosofia, psicologia, ensayo, alegoria, satira, es imposible definirlo.

El autor, yo creo, lo ha escrito para el mismo, para explorar, para comprender, por puro placer de perderse en si mismo.
Un libro mirandose a un si mismo que se explora a un si mismo mas interior con una alegoria increible basada en las planicies que no son mas que eso indescriptible que llamamos ‘yo'.

Y lo ha hecho de una forma bellísima. Muchas de las frases podrian ser poesia. Otras creo que simplemente mi IQ no me llega para comprenderlas en su plenitud:

And I traced all the while whatever had the appearance of a theme in that uncertain region: following as far as its seaming source some flaw or fingermark that could have suggested this or that human propensity wavering but persisting in a landscape which itself came and went; discerning a play of powerful opposites in the alternate predominance of differing textures; or deciding that whatever seemed to point to some unique perception of a private terrain might suggest in another light that the artist had failed to see the scattered vestiges of what passed for another country with another observer.

And each behaved as though there was yet time to hear from the other a form of words acknowledging some of those possibilities that had never realized for as long as each had despaired of arranging such things in a form of words.