On August 8, 1983, at four thirthy p.m.,
he said: "I don´t love you anymore"
It was in the south of France.
The room overlooked a meadow.
It may not be my worst sorrow,
but it is the most recent and that
makes it the more precious,
if I can put it like that, and the
closest to my memory.
Sophie Calle, Exquisite Pain, pág. 269, After Unhappines.
No hay comentarios:
Publicar un comentario