Dickhead

Vía Wikipedia.

Hoy es 11 de septiembre del 2012. La muerte es una palabra inevitable - Allende y Bin Laden hasta por las orejas. El post de hoy se va pernicioso.
Quería romper el hiato con un texto de Phillip K. Dick (pagina 128; The Exegesis of Phillip K. Dick; editado por Pamela Jackson & Jonathan Lethem, 2011):

Four nights before Pinky died, before we knew he had cancer -- I started to say, before he had been diagnosed as having a bruised rib -- he and Tessa and I saw a uniform pale light slowly fill the room. I thought the angel of death had come for me and I began to pray in Latin: "Tremens factos sum ego, et timio," and so forth; Tessa gritted her teeth but Pinky sat there, front feet tucked under him, and impassive. I knew there was no place to hide, like under the bed. Death can find you under the bed; everyone knows that, even little kids. And it looks bad.

Mi gestión es este blog es considerablemente ingenua (naive). Si cumple con el fin de satisfacer una necesidad, la de pensar. Se espera un intercambio de ideas, a la luz de temas discutidos en las artes literarias, filosofía, actualidad, ciencias, etc.