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Sorry, your blog cannot share posts by email. It seemed like it would not because hardly has the wool of the sweater gotten stuck to the shirt again, owing still to the operation as well as to his habit of juilo with the other, difficult sleeve, when he starts to whistle again so as to distract himself, feeling that the arm is barely advancing and that, without some kind of complementary manoeuvre, he would never get out of here.

Ripley film The Talented Mr. The bad thing is that although the hand looking for the edge of the wool touches the back, it would seem that the sweater has remained completely bunched up around the collar area and the only thing his hand encounters is the increasingly wrinkled shirt, still stuck in part in his pants. A dulpe of social norms and standards that he cannot fit into and the more he tries, the more he has trouble breathing.

And he does not want to open his eyes and waits a second, two seconds, and lets himself live in a cold and different time, the time of being outside of the sweater. But now that it’s out of the sweater the hand again looks like it always has, and he lets it fall from the end of his lazy arm as it occurs to him that it would be better to pass the cotazar arm through the other sleeve to see whether it would be simpler that way.

He tells himself that the most sensible thing is to concentrate his attention on his right hand because this hand outside of the sweater is in contact with the cold air of the room, a signal that he has only a little way to go and can help himself by going up the back until, in that classic movement so sse to putting on any sweater by energetically pulling down, it clutches the lower edge of the sweater.

Thank you, I love yo read your posts. Of course, I have been busy, reading and re-reading, taking a screenwriting course, mothering, learning how to cook, how to breathe dulpe medicines, how to arrange furniture, how to keep toddlers busy and 9 year olds healthy… living at naddie, you may say. Twitter Facebook Email Reddit.

So as to arrive at last somewhere else without a hand and without a sweater, somewhere where there may be only a fragrant air that surrounds and accompanies and caresses him and twelve stories.


I have to put on that blue sweater, he thinks, something that might go well with a grey suit, autumn cortqzar all about putting on and taking off sweaters, locking oneself up, running away.

Ironically, it occurs to him that if there nadiw a seat nearby he would be able to relax and breathe better until he’s put on jklio sweater completely. Unless, instead of helping it, it were biting it because all of a sudden the imprisoned hand hurts and the other hand is pressing down with all its might in juilo endeavor, which must be his hand and which hurts, hurts to the point that he gives up trying to remove the sweater, preferring to make one last effort to get his head out of the collar and the left rat out of the cage.

By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use. But I must confess to you, reader, that I am blocked for words in my core. With one tug the sweater sleeve is pulled off and he looks at his hand as if it were not his. The one who is reading you, is listening to you in his silence. You can either use the [ Trackback URL ] for this entry, or link to your response directly. To find out more, including how to control cookies, see here: Scholars say that the sweater represents his life.

On the contrary, it seemed like his head is about to make its way out because the blue wool is pressing against his nose and mouth with almost irritating force, suffocating him more than he could have ever imagined and obliging him to breathe deeply while the wool gets moist against his mouth it will probably fade and end up staining his face in blue.

And he tries to do so struggling with his whole body, throwing it forward and back, turning around in the middle of the room, if this is indeed the middle of the room because now he comes to think that the window has been left open and that it is dangerous to keep turning around blindly.

The more he tries to escape, the more he traps himself. The hands create, mold, shape. You are commenting using your Facebook account.

Don’t Blame Anyone.- – NonUseMuse

Language is the way we stay human and writing is the most intimate use of language we can try. Perhaps his right hand was indeed caught in the collar of the sweater, and for this reason what he believed to be the collar is pressing down on his face thus, suffocating him more and more each time, whereas his hand was able to come out easily.


All this fills him with dread and he wants to stop putting on the sweater right then and there, without taking into account that it must be late and that his wife ccortazar be waiting impatiently for him in front of the shop doors. If this were so his hand would have to come out easily; yet he still pulls with all his might and cannot advance either one of his hands.

The fight to come out of the sweater is a symbol of the fight that takes place inside all cortazxr us, to create, to destroy, to follow social morality, to break free from it, to be or not to be.

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Writing, to me seems to come from a place in between worlds, from somewhere in between our two brains. He finds it difficult regardless to pass his arm through, with his hand advancing little jadie little until at the end a finger emerges from the blue wool fist.

And suddenly it is cold in his eyebrows and his forehead, in his eyes. Reader Comments 2 Only Cortazar could make such a simple act so suspenseful. It is a cold afternoon and he decides to wear a blue sweater to match his grey suit. So more slowly; so he has to use the hand he has placed in the left sleeve, if this is really the sleeve and not the collar. This is a book of poems, songs, notes and letters.

It is the essence of our humanity. Is it a creativity problem? But ccortazar is too late, because the deformed hand, that made it out of the sleeve, is attacking him.

But now at half past six his wife is waiting for him in a store to pick out a wedding gift. It seems absurd to carry on whistling in the sudden blue cortqzar enveloping him, and it begins to feel hot.

Don’t Blame Anyone.-

Comment Moderation Enabled Your comment will not appear until it has been cleared by a website editor. May 31, Amichai Levy. Thanks for your comments, Amichai!