Excerpt:

Knowledge Is Not Good

It feels like being caught in the middle of a trance—one that tears your soul away without causing pain. It’s as if a melancholic ecstasy reduces you to nothing, and you slip into a slow, deep meditation. You feel genuine, fulfilled, yet filled with a desolate emptiness. It’s an overwhelming sense of desolation that drags you into a strange emotional state, one that rebuilds your most desperate memories and sends you on a journey through time, reminding you of every moment you’ve ever fallen into that same trance.

There’s a sensation that nothing is left to hold on to, and that emptiness wraps itself around you. You let it, surrendering to its embrace, because you know that this ethereal melody will free you from everything. You feel the world breaking, collapsing, until all that remains is that soothing sound—an anguish that, paradoxically, brings you a strange kind of joy. Everything dissolves into a sigh, a sigh that splits you in two, shatters you, strips you bare, and yet makes you feel real and unique, because that sweet melody keeps you company. It reminds you of your loves and heartbreaks, of every time you thought you belonged and every time you felt alone. Everything is contained within it—slow, beautiful, sweet, profound. It feels like leaving your body and ascending into the sky, ceasing to exist while remaining painfully aware of everything. A sorrowful revelry. A peaceful death. It leads you into the deepest corners of yourself and leaves you there.

I couldn’t help it. I had to go back and search for his texts again, to read what he’d written. This one is new; it wasn’t among the others. He’s still writing. Still producing words.

When does he even make these? He gets home, eats, watches television, and goes to sleep.

Who are they for? He hasn’t had a girlfriend in years. Maybe I know much less about his life than I thought...

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–Continue reading in its original Castilian language at https://fictograma.com/ , an open source Spanish community of writers–