One day a person is on this side of the world with you, and you can think of that person walking down a quiet, sun-lit street, or you can think of calling them, or of them calling you, even if they haven’t called you in years, and of what you might say to each other, all the interesting ideas of late; he might tell you in great detail about his dream of people living in tunnels and caves in a large mountain, and his step-sister the poet was there; and you can think of going to visit him, in his town, and of seeing him standing in the kitchen in the middle of the night in his underwear, knees bent slightly, hands (as always) dangling at the ends of his arms; and of his deep, rough and deeply comforting smell of tobacco smoke and woodchips. And then, one day, that person is no longer on this side of the world with you. There is a thin veil, a flimsy partition, and this person, a person you love, has stepped across it and off into the dark world. He is dead.
Eleni Sikelianos, The Book of Jon
Querida Sylvia, tal vez no te acuerdes de mí; hace tiempo estuve con Gerardo. Me enteré de lo que pasó y sólo quiero decirte que lo siento; yo sé lo mucho que los unía y lo mucho que te quería. Te mando un abrazo enorme.
Ana Laura,
Por supuesto que me acuerdo de ti y te he tenido mucho en mente. Muchas gracias, tus palabras cuentan muchomucho. Han sido días raros, grises. Recibo tu abrazo con mucho cariño y te mando otro.
S.
Gracias, Sylvia. Un día, cuando quieras, cuando puedas, escríbeme; tal vez, para las dos sea una experiencia de calma, de compañía.
dalo por hecho.