Pedro Páramo

by Juan Rulfo

We had left the hot air above and were now sinking into a pure heat that had no air. Everything seemed to be waiting for something.

sleep is a good mattress for fatigue.

Why did her gaze seem to gain courage in this moment of resignation?

As I gained my bearings, everything was completely quiet, the only sound a moth falling through the air and the whispering of silence.

Each sigh is like a sip of life that slowly gets away from us.

He never liked reliving that memory since it brought on others, as if he had torn a hole in a bag full of grain and was struggling to hold back the contents.

He found death all by himself.

—I’m beginning to pay. Better to start early, to finish sooner.

Gradually, the lights around town were being put out. The river let loose a stream of vibrant colors.

There’s not a single memory, no matter how intense, that won’t fade eventually.

FIRST LIGHT WAS STILL a long way off. The sky was filled with stars, fat ones, swollen by the long night. The moon had come out for a short while, before disappearing again. It was one of those sorrowful moons that no one gazes at, no one notices. It had hung there for a time, disfigured, giving off no light, before rushing to hide behind the hills.