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jueves, 3 de julio de 2014

Milan Kundera, fragment from chapter 6, Ignorance

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The next day her mother left. Back from the airport, and back to peace in her top-floor apartment, Irena went to the window to savor the freedom of solitude. She gazed for a long while out of the rooftops, the array of chimneys with all their different fantastical shapes – the Parisian flora than had long ago supplanted the green of Czech gardens – and she realized how happy she was in this city. She had always taken it as a given that emigrating was a misfortune, an illusion suggested by the way people perceive and émigré? Wasn’t she interpreting her own life according to the operating instructions other people had handed her? And she thought that even though it had been imposed from the outside and against her will, her emigration was perhaps, without her knowing it, the best outcome for her life. The implacable forces of history that had attacked her freedom had set her free.


-Milan Kundera 

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