I imagined people at breakfast, people who know each other intimately, probably a husband and a wife, speaking in unfinished sentences, in grunts, in coughs, as people do, particularly at that time of day. And I wondered what it would be like to sit down at that kind of dialogue, in which sentences are rarely completed and thoughts are rarely followed up and one person is not really listening closely to another. That’s all I had. And that’s when I began writing - Don Delillo
Monday 10 October 2011
LA HUMEDAD
Me gustaría encontrar por la calle a chicas, de unos treinta y tantos, con grandes pancartas de panel de madera, donde con pintura negra se leyese el grado de humedad que hubiese en ese preciso momento en la ciudad. O no ya en la ciudad sino en esa precisa esquina de esa precisa calle. Cada cinco minutos habría que llevar a cabo una nueva medición y si el resultado variase, aunque fuese mínimamente, haría falta construir una nueva pancarta
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