Dear friend,I won't have time to reread what I'm about to write, and in order for you to understand my reasons, I will momentarily set aside what I know today.O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend the brightest heaven of invention: a kingdom for a book, women and men for pages and monarchs to behold the swelling scene! In the role of Hélio, myself, with all my virtues and hesitations and my endless defects.But pardon the flat unraised spirit that have dared with this unworthy ink to bring forth so great an object: can these pages hold the streets of Madrid? Or may I cram within this paper the fanatical turbans that sow terror on Madrid's trains? O, pardon! Since a crooked figure may attest in little place a million; and let me, ciphers to this great account, on your imaginary forces work. Suppose within this compressed pulp is now confined a mighty monarchy, whose borders have become imaginary and whose citizens have come to live with their own enemies. Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts: into a thousand adjectives divide a noun, and make imaginary puissance. Think when I talk of "cars", that you see them, printing their proud tires on the asphalt that supports them. For 'tis your thoughts that now must deck our kingdom, carry me here and there; jumping in times, turning the accomplishment of many days into an hour-glass. For the which supply, admit me between lines to this history, who prologue-lie your humble patience pray, gently to hear, kindly to judge, my letter.
YOU ARE READING
TELMAH, The Tragedy of Misunderstanding
Historical FictionHélio Parfia arrives in Madrid shortly after 11-M (2004), to write a tribute to the victims of the attack, and is almost run over. A woman dies saving him. In the following days, while trying to find some information about his heroine, Telmah Millai...
