Beautiful Manifesto for reading, the writer of Extremadura, Álvaro Valverde
Happy are those who have read. That in childhood, through stories, he discovered the world. That in adolescence, in the middle of nowhere, he learned to find in the dark even this refuge in the shelter of time. Who young, eternal beauty, sensed in reading live for the moment was the best remedy against that which flees. One who, mature, lost as ever, clung to some pages to postpone death. Who, in short, old already, read to win the battle against oblivion.
Happy are those who have read because the road is short and only reading can live lives that prevents existence. These lives of others who magically become their own. Happy
who has read and found solace in books to their problems or love is missing or the sweet joy that overcomes the sadness. Who has cried alone to read a verse or a hidden passage in a novel.
Happy letraherido, the melancholic, who, alone, in a book called the friend who misses when going down the street. Happy
who has read and has his eyes pinned to a poem and his memory is clinging to a story. Who thinks like think that test. He who feels a Greek in exile, or perhaps a pending Japanese haiku or an Arab who evokes the sounds of water, or an American who sings himself. Happy
who has read and has been building its own library, and each book is a record close, an indelible moment of what is fugitive. And a form of criticism, because not everything goes. Happy
who has read in sunny rooms and public libraries have felt the shadow of a thousand characters that populate the volumes stacked around. Happy
who, like Borges, no boasts of what he has written, however, is proud of what you read. Who, as Jaime Gil de Viedma, the mention of the word poetry will not raise the image of a man writing a poem, but of a man reading a poem. Happy
who has traveled without having walked a foreign country. Or that since the fourth goes further than even the fastest traveler. Which is cosmopolitan and lives in the province's books without a country, because the reader is someone who knows no frontiers. Happy
who has read and distressing for all those who have not found that pleasure perfect.
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