We, all who live, have A life that is lived And another life that is thought, And the only life we have It's the one that is divided In right or wron… - Fernando Pessoa

on the road halfway between faith and criticism stands the inn of reason. reason is faith in what can be understood without faith, but it's still a faith, since to understand presupposes that there's something understandable.

In the ordinary jumble of my literary drawer, I sometimes find texts I wrote ten, fifteen, or even more years ago. And many of them seem to me written by a stranger: I simply do not recognize myself in them. There was a person who wrote them, and it was I. I experienced them, but it was in another life, from which I just woke up, as if from someone else's dream.

Todo se me evapora. Mi vida entera, mis recuerdos, mi imaginación y lo que contiene, mi personalidad, todo se me evapora. Continuamente siento que he sido otro, que he sentido otro, que he pensado otro. Aquello a lo que asisto es un espectáculo con otro escenario. Y aquello a lo que asisto soy yo