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sábado, 12 de julio de 2014

Milan Kundera, Fragment from Ignorance (On Skacel: beautiful!)


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Jan Skacel, a Czech poet of the period: he describes the sadness surrounding him; he wants to take that sadness in his hands, carry it far off somewhere and build himself a house out of it, he wants to lock himself inside that house for three hundred years and for three hundred years not open the door, not open the door to anyone! Three hundred years? Skacel wrote those lines in the 1970s and he died in 1989, in autumn, just a few days before those three hundred years of sadness he saw stretching ahead crumbled in just a few days: people filled the Prague streets, and the key rings jangling in their lifted hands rang in the coming of a new age. Did Skacel have it wrong when he spoke of three hundred years? Of course he did. All predictions are wrong, that’s one of the few certainties granted to mankind. But though predictions may be wrong, they are right about the people who voice them, not about their future but about their experience of the present moment.


–Milan Kundera

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