The Museum of Eterna's Novel

NOVEL OF CLOISTERED THINGS, OF MUTENESSES, OF SECRETS, OF HIDDEN FRAGRENCES, OF WORDS THAT HAVE NO SOUND BECAUSE THEY DEPEND ON THE LIPS OF A FACE OR SMILE TO SPEAK THEM AND THIS SMILE IS NOT GIVEN

The hanging light of siesta, in front of the little house on the Estancia, can hide only one thing: another light, a little flame that nobody living there saw, that wanted to exist but did not want to be seen.

This little flame — maybe Eterna’s expression when she thinks of her dream of totalove, so dazzling that this expression vanishes in brimming, reverberating fantasy: she doesn’t know that the Day and the Little Flame within it, which are in perpetual connection with the house, are in fact the totalove that Eterna thinks of, and the gaze with which she views it.

But when he said goodbye, the Lover said to Eterna: “I know the little flame of the gaze that you fix on your dream of love at the height of each day on the Estancia in the novel. I don’t have the power, Eterna, to make your dream come true: it’s already much to have talked with you, and you will never return to my thoughts after today. My sadness for you in this instance occupied my spirit for a minute; only you could have achieved this: nothing outside of Ella, not even you, will enter ever again into my spirit.”