Trains . . . unite many dichotomies: the exotic and the banal, freedom and luxury, nostalgia and modernity, the possible and the real.

In my line of business, people don't talk much.

Evil wears no gloves.

He has ten canisters of gasoline and if need be, could escape to North Africa via Malaga and Algeciras without stopping at a pump.

She stopped in front of a shop window full of umbrellas, and her friend, who was walking ahead of her, suddenly turned around: Carme, we'll get separated!

Last night, before falling asleep, she had realized winter was almost over.

He had bought two ice creams and with a sad look on his face was offering them to her so she could choose.

Good God, what criminals? They're ordinary people.

A warden takes me by the arm as I slip on my blindfold and step out of the cell.

It was the chosen hour, that marvelous hour in the country of Africa, when the great fiery sun is going to finally disappear, leaving the earth to rest in the blue shadow of the night.

The dog was a hideous sight, putrid, offensive, with gouged-out eyes.

The only sound to be heard in the little room was the snoring of the landlord interspersed with the quiet tick-tock of the clock on the wall...

then you go on dying dying in plasterthen the pitch-black snow inside the womb goes on fallingthen the face is not while burning pain on the face iswound is not while the ripe age preserved by beheading…

what wraps two dripping fruit segments wraps a present too / since solitude became your food

like a scream expanding its territory until tonight