Han arruinado la Tierra, dijo tras más o menos un minuto, al tiempo que su mirada volvía a cobrar vida, es decir, regresaba a sus ojos el color de ch… - László Krasznahorkai
" "Han arruinado la Tierra, dijo tras más o menos un minuto, al tiempo que su mirada volvía a cobrar vida, es decir, regresaba a sus ojos el color de charco espeso que los caracterizaba.
Sin embargo, daba igual lo que dijera, comentó, porque arruinaron todo cuanto consiguieron, y puesto que lo consiguieron todo en una lucha tan agotadora como abyecta, lo arruinaron también todo, porque ellos arruinaban cuanto tocaban, y no dejaron nada sin tocar: hasta la victoria total, conseguir y arruinar, arruinar y conseguir, de esta manera transcurrió la cosa hasta el final victorioso, para ellos ruidosamente victorioso, o para ser exacto: tocar y, por tanto, arruinar y, de este modo, conseguir, o tocar, conseguir y de este modo arruinar, así transcurrió la cosa durante siglos y siglos, ora de forma encubierta, ora sin tapujos ni ambages, ora de manera discreta, ora a lo bruto, pero funcionaba, funcionó durante cientos y cientos de años, siempre de la misma manera, siguiendo el ejemplo de las ratas que atacan a traición, porque, para el triunfo completo y definitivo había que lograr, lógicamente, que el rival, esto es, todo lo noble, excelso y magnífico, de entrada no presentara batalla por motivos internos, no participara en la lucha que provocaría su mera presencia empeñada en buscar un universo humano más equilibrado, para lo cual convenía que no hubiera ningún tipo de lucha, sólo la repentina desaparición de uno de los contrincantes, concretamente, la desaparición permanente de los nobles, excelsos y magníficos de cualquier lucha, de la existencia en general, es más, en el peor de los casos, no lo sabemos, dijo Korin, su aniquilación completa y definitiva, todo por un motivo secreto que salvo ellos mismos nadie comprendía, de suerte que nadie entendía por qué ocurrió, cómo pudo suceder que al día de hoy esos triunfadores que vencieron dando zarpazos a traición dominen la Tierra, que no exista un hueco para ocultar nada ante ellos, porque todo les pertenece, dijo Korin al rit
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About László Krasznahorkai
László Krasznahorkai (; born 5 January 1954) is a Hungarian novelist and screenwriter known for difficult and demanding novels, often labeled postmodern, with dystopian and melancholic themes. Several of his works, including his novels Satantango (, 1985) and The Melancholy of Resistance (, 1989), have been turned into feature films by Hungarian film director Béla Tarr.
Biography information from Wikipedia
Also Known As
Native Name:
Krasznahorkai László
Alternative Names:
Laszlo Krasznahorkai
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Additional quotes by László Krasznahorkai
He gazed sadly at the threatening sky, at the burned-out remnants of a locust-plagued summer, and suddenly saw on the twig of an acacia, as in a vision, the progress of spring, summer, fall and winter, as if the whole of time were a frivolous interlude in the much greater spaces of eternity, a brilliant conjuring trick to produce something apparently orderly out of chaos, to establish a vantage point from which chance might begin to look like necessity . . . and he saw himself nailed to the cross of his own cradle and coffin, painfully trying to tear his body away, only, eventually, to deliver himself — utterly naked, without identifying mark, stripped down to essentials — into the care of the people whose duty it was to wash the corpses, people obeying an order snapped out in the dry air against a background loud with torturers and flayers of skin, where he was obliged to regard the human condition without a trace of pity, without a single possibility of any way back to life, because by then he would know for certain that all his life he had been playing with cheaters who had marked the cards and who would, in the end, strip him even of his last means of defense, of that hope of someday finding his way back home.
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It was the kind of nightmare where you realize that the missing weight of things is sitting right there on your chest, like some kind of succubus, but before you can shove it off, it gets sucked away through a mysterious process into the unknowable realm of your cells, and from there on you are defenseless, your cells already weigh a ton, while your whole body is so light it almost floats, and that’s how it goes until you can only wonder how the cells could be so unbearably heavy when the body is so nauseatingly light, and in this nauseating lightheadedness things gradually recede from you just as you too begin to gradually recede from them, in a word it is like when a person lugging a load becomes exhausted by all this lugging and suddenly looking down at his hands sees that there is nothing in them, there never was, that he had been lugging nothing — that is, when you suddenly realize that something is no longer in your possession, just as nothing ever had been.
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