Cain

by José Saramago

Eve smiled and placed her hand on the angel’s hand and pressed it gently to her breast. Her body was grimy, her nails were as black as if she had been using them to dig the earth, her hair was like a tangled nest of eels, but she was a woman, the only one.

The history of mankind is the history of our misunderstandings with god, for he doesn’t understand us, and we don’t understand him.

Contrary to what most people think, the donkey is a great conversationalist, one need think only of its many ways of braying and snorting and the sheer variety of its ear movements,

that’s the problem with social divisions, with each of us stuck in our own place, preferably the place we were born, how then will we ever make friendships with people from different worlds.