The rope of the soul

When the night emptied my path, I was something without a name, I was a creature without identity, knowing nothing of the terms of the past and the future. I remained lying on the bed, perhaps I had slept for a few hours, or perhaps I had slept for a part of a second. A kind of paralysis surrounded me, which grew in scope until it reached a state I am unable to describe now. If I described my condition as a feeling of awareness shrouded in mystery, mixed with complete loss of consciousness, I would not have fully conveyed this exceptional and strange situation in its true sense. Perhaps it was easier to say that I was swimming in emptiness, but these words also do not convey anything. All I knew was that some creature was present, but I did not know that this creature was me. About the author: Leo Perouts, a Czech-Austrian writer, considered by Jorge Luis Borges to be one of the greatest writers of magical realism in his era, and he sought to translate his works into Spanish as the founder of magical realism in its Eastern European form. Robert Musil said he invented a literary genre unique to himself, while Italo Calvino, Graham Greene, Alfred Hitchcock, and Friedrich Dürenmat indicated that they were among his great admirers. Author: Leo Perouts Translator: Ahmed Al-Zanati Number of pages: 204