“I don't know how to speak anymore. And with whom? I never found a soulmate. No one was a dream. They left me with open dreams, with my central wound wide open, with my heart torn. I mourn myself; this… — Alejandra Pizarnik Copy Share Image
You've built your homeyou've fledged your birdsyou've beaten the windwith your bonesyou've finished alonewhat no one began — Alejandra Pizarnik Copy Share Image
“Melancholia is, I believe, a musical problem: a dissonance, a change in rhythm. While on the outside everything happens with the vertiginous rhythm of a cataract, on the inside is the exhausted adagio of drops of water falling from time to tired time. For this reason the outside, seen from the melancholic inside, appears absurd and unreal, and constitutes ‘the… — Alejandra Pizarnik Copy Share
“she undresses in the paradise of her memory she is unaware of the fierce fate of her visions she fears not knowing how to… — Alejandra Pizarnik Copy Share Image
“your voice in this being unable to move away from my gaze things dispossess me make of me a ship on a river of… — Alejandra Pizarnik Copy Share Image
Because no one has more thirst for earth, for blood, and for ferocious sexuality than the creatures who inhabit cold mirrors — Alejandra Pizarnik Copy Share Image
“Paths of the mirror" I And above all else, to look with innocence. As if nothing was happening, which is true. II But you,… — Alejandra Pizarnik Copy Share Image
“me he empavorecido, me he engrisado, me he atardecido, mi lengua no sabe.” — Alejandra Pizarnik Copy Share Image
“Everything makes love with silence. They promised me a silence like fire, a house of silence. Suddenly the temple is a circus the light… — Alejandra Pizarnik Copy Share Image
But, who is Death? A figure that harrows and wastes wherever and however it pleases. This is also a possible description of the Countess… — Alejandra Pizarnik Copy Share Image
