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It is love. I will have to run or hide. The walls of its prison rise up, as in a twisted dream. The beautiful mask has changed, but as always it is the one. Of what use are my talismans: the literary exercises, the vague erudition, the knowledge of words used by the harsh North to sing its seas and swords, the temperate friendship, the galleries of the Library, the common things, the habits, the young love of my mother, the militant shadow of my dead, the timeless night, the taste of dreams? Being with you or being without you is the measure of my time. Now the pitcher breaks about the spring, now the man arises to the sound of birds, now those that watch at the windows have gone dark, but the darkness has brought no peace. It, I know, is love: the anxiety and the relief at hearing your voice, the expectation and the memory, the horror of living in succession. It is love with its mythologies, with its tiny useless magics. There exists a corner that I dare not cross. Now the armies confine me, the hordes. (This room is unreal; she has not seen it.) The name of a woman gives me away. A woman hurts me in all of my body.


Jorge Luis Borges


#love #beauty



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About Jorge Luis Borges

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Did you know about Jorge Luis Borges?

Borges was overjoyed and joined demonstrators marching through the streets of Buenos Aires. The Argentine Declaration of Independence in 1816 led to waves of immigration from Europe Asia and the Middle East and in the following decades and the Argentine national identity diversified. For a time Argentinians hesitated to wear band aids for fear friends would ask 'Did the atomic bomb go off in your hand?' A shame because Argentina really has world class scientists.

Borges himself was fluent in several languages. On his return to Argentina in 1921 Borges began publishing his poems and essays in surrealist literary journals. His work embraces the "character of unreality in all literature".

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