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Fragmentos - Guillermo Cerceau

Ideas inconclusas, sueños interrumpidos, frases que la vida cierra con una sorpresa. Fragments of thoughts, words interrupted by Life, pieces of dreams...

Saturday, July 06, 2002


Las cosas pasan a nuestro lado despreocupadas, como nubes o como hojas que arrastra el viento. Somos nosotros quienes pensamos en ellas, quienes nos afanamos en poseerlas, adminirarlas o rechazarlas. De ese desnivel nacen tanto la avaricia como el arte, la lucha sangrienta por la propiedad y la delicada observación del artista. Es obvio que si fuéramos cosas, no habría dolor ni belleza; es menos evidente que lo mismo sucedería si las cosas tuvieran voluntad.

Things pass along ourselves without worries, like clouds or leaves moved by the wind. It is us who think about them, who strive to posses, admire or reject them. From that difference grow both greed and art, the bloody strugle for property and the delicate observation of the artist. It is obvious that if we were things, there would be neither pain nor beauty; it is less evident that the same would happend if things had will.

.: posted by Guillermo 7:39 AM


Friday, July 05, 2002


La sonrisa idiota de los Grandes Maestros me produce nausea: si de verdad comprendienran el fondo último de todas las cosas no sonreirían.

The idiotic smile of the Great Masters makes me feel nausea. If they realy understood the root of all things they would not smile.

.: posted by Guillermo 7:37 PM


Sunday, June 30, 2002



....la convicción inquebrantable de que todo lo que puede ser dicho a lo largo de una vida es apenas una fracción insignificante de las posibilidades de combinación del lenguaje, y por lo tanto, la suprema valoración del silencio como utopía del sentido. Hablamos porque hablamos; podríamos vivir en silencio y el mundo sería igual de estúpido.



....the absolute belief that everything that can be said during a human life is just a tiny fraction of the combinatorial possibilities of language, and therefore, the supreme acceptance of silence as an utopia of sense. We speak because we speak; we could live in silence and the world would be as stupid as now.

.: posted by Guillermo 7:50 PM