We wanted to be children without children, which was the way to remain children forever...

To read is to cover one’s face. And to write is to show it.

Everyone gets erased – life consists of meeting people whom first you love and then you erase – but you can’t erase children, you can’t erase parents.

He wanted to put his memories into a bag and carry them until the weight destroyed his back.

Por amor a las coincidencias.

It would be better to close the book, close the books, and to face, all at once, not life, which is very big, but the fragile armor of the present.

Perhaps he has always limited himself to following images: he hasn’t made decisions, hasn’t won or lost, he has just let himself be drawn in by certain images, and he followed them, without fear or courage, until he got close to them or shut them out.

That’s what life consists of, I’m afraid: erasing and being erased.

Es de noche, siempre es de noche al final de los textos.

What’s the purpose of being with someone if they don’t change your life? She said that, and Julio was present when she said it: that life only had purpose if you found someone who changed it, who destroyed your life.