Convictions are Prisons
"Es preciso no dejarse engañar: todos los grandes espíritus son escépticos por naturaleza, Zarathustra es escéptico. La fuerza y la libertad salidas del vigor y de la plenitud del espíritu se demuestran por el escepticismo…. Las convicciones son prisiones. “
Spent today working on the call sheet and shooting schedule for the short film we will be shooting this weekend. Taking sporadic breaks to revisit “Antichrist.”
I got this particular edition of antichrist in shabby bookstore in the outskirts of Guadalajara, Jalisco. Hidden in between a dentist’s office and general store. More a house of books than a book store .
I stumbled into this labyrinthian forest of words quite by accident. I was lost and needed directions when I spotted the general store. As good a place as any place to ask. But my attention was quickly drawn away by a a small rusted sign proclaiming the books store’s presence in bold red letters.
"AQUI HAY LIBROS." (Here are books)
A proclamation seemingly tailored directly at me.
I walked in through the low entrance and was greeted by piles on piles of books spilling across the floors. Scattered throughout the house, covering the floors, the stairs, the walls. Almost spilling out of the house itself. A small clearing in between the stacks opened up a small pathway. The proprietor(a frail looking elderly man) sat in a courtyard, at the base of the book covered steps peeling an orange with his rough hands, unaware of my approach. I quietly greeted him. He didn’t look up or acknowledge me immediately. Instead choosing to take a few moments to finish peeling his orange. When he looked up I was taken aback by how bright his eyes were. Shinning, vivacious. His voice was strong, clear, resonant.
"Que buscas, muchaho?"(what are you looking for boy?)
"Nada en particular, ando un poco perdido." (nothing really, I am just a little lost.) I replied.
"Pues, yo también, tal vez aquí encuentres lo que ocupes."(Well, so am I, maybe you’ll find what you need here.)
He shakily stood from his perch, and began walking up the stairs; inviting me deeper into the maze.
I spent the rest of the day speaking with this man, eating oranges, talking literature, and reading.
Every time I look at the books I took home from there I am struck with immense joy, and an incredible longing to lose myself in the streets of my Home once more.