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Camisea 7/2/81 La naturaleza ha recobrado el juicio, solo la selva sigue amenazante, inmóvil. El río, ese monstruo, fluye sin sonido. La noche cae m… - Werner Herzog
" "Camisea 7/2/81
La naturaleza ha recobrado el juicio, solo la selva sigue amenazante, inmóvil. El río, ese monstruo, fluye sin sonido. La noche cae muy rápido y, como siempre a esta hora, los últimos pájaros insultan a la tarde. Canto ronco, sonidos inquietantes y por debajo, uniforme, el chirrido de las primeras cigarras. De tanto trabajar bajo la lluvia tengo los dedos arrugados como las lavanderas. En la espalda tengo al menos cien picaduras de un insecto que se ha mantenido oculto; todo en mí se pudre de humedad. Estaría agradecido si sólo fuese una pesadilla lo que me atormenta. Sobre la mesa apareció un insecto curioso, alargado como una lanza, antediluviano, con antenas a ambos lados de la extremada y fina prolongación delantera. No he podido descubrir si tenía ojos. Cargaba un insecto muerto igual a él y ha desaparecido entre las juntas del suelo de cortezas.
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About Werner Herzog
Werner Herzog (born Werner Stipetic on 5 September 1942) is a German screenwriter, film director, actor and opera director.
Also Known As
Alternative Names:
Werner Herzog Stipetić
•
Werner Stipetić
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Additional quotes by Werner Herzog
A few years ago, we had a family reunion on the coast of Spain, where my brother was living at the time. At his invitation and expense, we had a wonderful evening at a fish restaurant. My brother, sitting beside me, put his arm around me as I studied the menu. Something began to smoke; I felt a light prick at my back, and suddenly I realized that with his cigarette lighter he had set my shirt on fire. I tore it off, and everyone was aghast, but the pair of us laughed loudly at the joke that didn't seem funny to anyone else. Someone lent me a T-shirt for the rest of the evening, and the little sore patch of skin on my back was cooled with a splash of prosecco.
No one, not a soul, intimidating stillness. Uncannily, though, in the midst of all this, a fire is blazing, lit, in fact,with petrol. It's flickering, a ghostly fire, wind. On the orange-coloured plain below I can see sheets of rain, and the annunciation of the end of the world is glowing on the horizon, glimmering there. A train races through the land and penetrates the mountain range. Its wheels are glowing. One car erupts in flames. The train stops, men try to extinguish it, but the car can no longer be extinguished. They decide to move on, to hasten, to race. The train moves, it moves into fathomless space, unwavering. In the pitch-blackness of the universe the wheels are glowing, the lone car is glowing, Unimaginable stellar catastrophes take place, entire worlds collapse into a single point. Light can no longer escape, even the profoundest blackness would seem like light and the silence would seem like thunder. The universe is filled with Nothing, it is the Yawning Black Void. Systems of Milky Ways have condensed into Un-stars. Utter blissfulness is spreading, and out of utter blissfulness now springs the Absurdity. This is the situation.
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