What I found out today. o61



They say that writing, real writing, should leave a small sweet bruise somewhere on the writer . . . and on the reader.

And it makes me think and it makes me wonder -- I have been writing since I can remember, really; since I was able to compose a sentence. If I was not writing, I was drawing. I think my mom still kept a picture that I drew when I wasn't even two years old.
All the stories I heard, I read; all the stories I wrote down... It did indeed left me bruised. It left footprints and sometimes it led me to the thinking, it led me into insidious and never ending contemplation. It is like a fog; fog is like a cage without a key.
"A prayer for the wild at heart, kept in cages." ~ Tennessee Williams





If for a moment God were to forget that I am rag doll and granted me a piece of life, I probably wouldn't say everything that I think; rather, I would think about everything that I say. I would value things, not for their worth but for what they mean. I would sleep less, dream more, understanding that for each minute we close our eyes, we lose sixty secondsof light. I would walk when others hold back, I would wake when others sleep, I would listen when others talk. And how I would enjoy a good chocolate ice cream!If God were to give me a piece of life, I would dress simply, throw myself face first into the sun, baring not only my body but also my soul.My God, if I had a heart, I would write my hate on ice, and wait for the sun to show. Over the stars I would paint with a Van Gogh dream a Benedetti poem, and a Serrat song would be the serenade I'd offer to the moon.I would water roses with my tears, to feel the pain of their thorns and the red kiss of their petals... My God, if I had a piece of life... I wouldn't let a single day pass without telling the people I love that I love them. I would convince each woman and each man that they are my favorites, and I would live in love with love.I would show men how very wrong they are to think that they cease to be in love when they grow old, not knowing that they grow old when they cease to be in love!To a child I shall give wings, but I shall let him learn to fly on his own.I would teach the old that death does not come with old age, but with forgetting.So much have I learned from you, oh men ... I have learned that everyone wants to live at the top of the mountain, without knowing that real happiness is in how it is scaled.I have learned that when a newborn child first squeezes his father's finger in his tiny fist, he has him trapped forever.I have learned that a man has the right to look down on another only when he has to help the other get to his feet.From you I have learned so many things, but in truth they won't be of much use, for when I keep them within this suitcase, unhappily shall I be dying.
~ GABRIEL GARCIA MARQUEZ
December 8, 2000

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