"He was telluric and unique. He was dreaming. He dreamed of goodbyes and shadows. He dreamed of gods. He was cruel because he had always been desperate. He encountered a human-angel. So that they might live together, on Earth, forever, he cut off his wings. The other killed himself, plunging into the waters. I am still alive today. I am old. At night I drink a lot and look at the stars. Often, I write. Then I reconsider that one, the snowy breath, the desperation. I lie down. Austerely, I dream that I sow black beans and wings across a dark, sometimes mother-of-pearl, earth."
-- Copyright © by Hilda Hilst, from Letters from a Seducer (Cartas de um sedutor), originally published in 1991 by Editora Paulicéia, reprinted in 2001 by Globo Editora. Translation, copyright © by John Keene, 2013.
-- Copyright © by Hilda Hilst, from Letters from a Seducer (Cartas de um sedutor), originally published in 1991 by Editora Paulicéia, reprinted in 2001 by Globo Editora. Translation, copyright © by John Keene, 2013.
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