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224 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1927
He knew the boys were watching his every move; the slightest chink in his armour could expose him to disaster. In that year he was faced with eighteen boys. They sat in front of him at their desks, two by two, and looked at him. He knew disaster would come. He had to resign himself to appearing to be cruel. He knew that he was not. He was fighting for his livelihood, he fought for every day of reprieve.
‘Spring, summer, autumn and winter. The fifty-fifth time I’ve been through it now. Very interesting. Sometimes it’s raining, sometimes it’s snowing. Very important, very necessary. But why, I ask? Why, I ask you? Always the same. Necessary things, the seasons.’
Wherever it had begun, it was irreversible, every word, every step had made a difference to the path. Every word, every step had consequences, every time anyone acted, they burdened themselves with guilt, entangled themselves and others.
“¡Si uno pudiera contener la respiración para no turbar el curso de las cosas ni siquiera con el aliento!”La respuesta de Josepf Blau a su angustiosa situación es el orden extremo, las reglas inflexibles, los rituales que rigen hasta los actos más cotidianos. Una respuesta que, en un dramático círculo vicioso, acaba volviéndose contra él mismo. No es extraño que en ese miedo patológico alcancen un lugar privilegiado el peso aplastante de la responsabilidad que tenemos en el destino de aquellos que más queremos…
“solo queda libre de culpa el que es como un árbol, el que no respira, el que está aislado de todo, el que no piensa, porque también los pensamientos están en el mundo.”… y unos celos capaces de empujar al protagonista a vigilar a su mujer mientras duerme con la esperanza de descubrir en su rostro el reflejo de sus sueños con el amante.