Muérdeme

It is curious how one can list in such detail everything that did not happen, and yet give the impression that this was the most important thing. It's like a list of empty lines that were never filled in, with crumbs of unsaid words left in the margins.

These ‘never’s don't sound cold, but exciting - like a game of denial for speed. No kisses, no quarrels, no familiar scenes, and it is precisely in this that there is a burning intimacy. Like two trains travelling on parallel tracks: they did not collide, but the rumble of the passing carriages still rings in your ears for a long time.

And now the rejection of the fairy tale sounds like an admission of the truth, and the unsaid becomes far more honest than any promises. Sometimes the absence of shared mornings and wet sheets is the very story that clings more strongly than novels lived to the bone.