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 lain for a few hours, or perhaps I had lain for a part of a second. I was surrounded by a kind of stiffness that grew in scope to reach a state I am now unable to describe. If I described my condition as a feeling of awareness shrouded in mystery, mixed with complete loss of consciousness, I would not do justice to this exceptional and strange situation in its description. 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 existed, but I did not know that this creature was me. Leo Perouts, a Czech-Austrian writer, was considered by Jorge Luis Borges to be one of the greatest writers of surrealist literature of his time, 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. Number of pages: 204