A really, really, really beautiful story!

Well, there are many sentences and sometimes even pages that you generally won't understand anything from.

But on the contrary, there are some quotes that you feel resemble you and express you, which is the reason for my great admiration for the story.

The strangeness in it is what surprises and amazes you until the end.

I will definitely try again with Anais, and I highly recommend this creation.

The world seems to be incredibly small. I find myself growing weary of playing the guitar, of engaging in knitting, of going for walks, and even of the process of bearing children. Men, too, appear small and their passions are fleeting and short-lived. I often become furious at the sight of stairways, at doors, at walls, and at the mundane aspects of everyday life that disrupt the continuity of the ecstasy I long for.

However, there is a kind of martyrdom that comes with the tenseness, the fever, and the act of living continuously, much like the firmament that is in full movement and in full effulgence. It is a state of being where one endures the challenges and frustrations, yet still strives to maintain that sense of fullness and radiance in life. Despite the weariness and the fury, there is an underlying beauty and purpose in this continuous struggle to live a life that is both passionate and meaningful.

Perhaps it is in this martyrdom that we find our true selves, and in the face of the smallness of the world and the brevity of human passions, we can still shine brightly like the stars in the sky.

Anaïs Nin's short book is set in one of the most interesting periods of experimental literature: the surrealist era that decides to confront head-on the hyper-rationalism of a psychoanalytic stamp.

The result is a lucid delirium, between the dreamlike and the astral, which insinuates itself among the meanders of the reader's mind through an enviable poetic language.

Today, perhaps, it is the best reading I have ever done. It takes the reader on a journey through a world that is both familiar and strange, blurring the lines between reality and fantasy.

The use of vivid imagery and evocative language creates a sense of atmosphere that is both captivating and disorienting.

It is a book that challenges the reader to think differently, to question their assumptions about the nature of reality and the power of the imagination.

Overall, it is a remarkable work of literature that continues to inspire and delight readers today.

To say this book was unconventional would be a huge understatement.

Of course, lyrical prose is generally, from what I've read, weird as hell. However, I loved this book as much as I could love something I barely understood.

A thing I learned through attempting to read things I was always intimidated by is to keep reading. Slowly, you begin to pick up the author's code, their sorrows and states of mind, their themes and symbols, and you begin the sweet process of comprehension.

This book revolved around a woman's journey through fear and hope and desire and acceptance. She speaks of two characters, I guess, women she knows. Sabria and Jeanne. Her experience with both women represents two different sides of her. Sabrina is the free-spirited, outgoing young woman who has accepted her sexuality and ventures on making a mark on the world. The author expresses admiration, jealousy, and attentiveness, as well as romance, desire, and love for Sabria. She then, in another chapter, describes Jeanne, whose part in the book is my favorite. She represents the author's repressed desires, fear of judgment, and self-destructive, deeply depressive tendencies.

Overall, this book was quite an experience if you are willing to be patient with all the surrealistic symbolism. It was definitely packed with emotion, and Nin is one of the most interesting and influential feminist authors whose work should always be discovered.

3.5 “I carry white sponges of knowledge on strings of nerves.”

This statement is truly profound. It implies that our minds are like sponges, constantly absorbing and retaining knowledge. The strings of nerves can be seen as the pathways through which this knowledge travels and is stored within us.

Just as a sponge soaks up water, we soak up information from the world around us. We learn from our experiences, from books, from teachers, and from those we interact with. This knowledge then becomes a part of us, shaping our thoughts, beliefs, and actions.

It is important to note that the more we fill our sponges with knowledge, the more we have to offer others. We can share our wisdom, help those in need, and make a positive impact on the world. So, let us continue to carry our white sponges of knowledge with pride, and use them to make a difference in the lives of those around us.

I find myself constantly drawn to her writing. There's something truly captivating about it that keeps me coming back for more.

Her words seem to dance on the page, creating vivid images and emotions that resonate deeply within me.

I need to read more of her work because it's like a magical portal that transports me to different worlds and perspectives.

Every time I pick up one of her pieces, I'm immediately immersed and can't put it down until I've devoured every last word.

Whether it's her short stories, poems, or essays, there's always a unique charm and authenticity that shines through.

I'm eager to explore more of her literary offerings and discover the hidden gems that lie within.

Who knows what new and exciting adventures her writing will take me on next? I can't wait to find out.

So, I'll continue to seek out her work and let her words weave their magic on me.

Anaïs Nin takes her protagonist on a magical journey through a febrile and sumptuous discourse.

From the depths of the sea, lost within the colors of Atlantis, where colors blend without boundaries. There are fish made of velvet, organdy with lace teeth, taffeta, embroidered with sequins, fish of silk, feathers, and plumes.

Then to the land, where she gets involved with Sabina. He was an idol in Byzantium, an idol to dance with legs apart, and she writes with pollen and honey. The sweet, gentle secret of a woman she sculpted in the minds of men with words of copper, an image tattooed in their eyes.

After that, to space. The weight, oh the tremendous weight of the head pulled by the clouds and balanced in space, the body like a handful of straw, the hair dragged by the clouds like a scarf caught in the wheel of a cart, the oscillating body, bumping into star-lanterns.

Finally, to meet Jeanne, who leads her to the house of incest. The world is too small. She is tired of playing the guitar, knitting, walking, giving birth to children. Men are small and passions are short. The stairs, the doors, the walls irritate her, and the daily routine that interferes with the continuity of ecstasy irritates her.

"The House of Incest" reads like a prose poem where, more than the story, the effervescence of the writing charms. The smoke threw her head against the ceiling and there it hung, looking with frog eyes, straw hair, a leather mouth, mirrors of smooth, hairless heads, hairy monkey hands with pink palm colors. The music made the past come out of the tomb and the mummies flogged her memory.

And the amorous rapture. She will let you take her to the fertility of destruction. Therefore, she attributes a body, a face, and a voice to herself. She is to you as you are to her. Silence the sensational flow of your body and you will find in her, intact, your fears and your sorrows. You will discover love separated from passions and she will discover passions deprived of love.

NOTE: For those who want to read, I suggest choosing the edition of Sistema Solar. This one from Assírio & Alvim sold out quickly, as it is very bad.

I'm not even certain where to begin with this review. So, let me start with the absolute devastating beauty of Nin's prose. Every other sentence is like a tiny morsel of savoury dark chocolate covering sickly sweet fruit. For example, take this quote: "Your beauty drowns me, drowns the core of me. When your beauty burns me I dissolve as I never dissolved before man. From all men I was different, and myself, but I see in you that part of me which is you. I feel you in me; I feel my own voice becoming heavier, as if I were drinking you in, every delicate thread of resemblance being soldered by fire and one no longer detects the fissure."

Secondly, let me highlight the most beautifully written lesbian sex scene I've ever read. In fact, it's the most beautiful sex scene of any kind. It's described in such vivid and sensual detail that it's almost palpable. For instance: "Around my pulse she put a flat steel bracelet and my pulse beat as she willed, losing its human cadence, thumping like a savage in orgiastic frenzy. The lamentations of flutes, the double chant of wind through our slender bones, the cracking of our bones distantly remembered when on beds of down the worship we inspire turned to lust. As we walked along, rockets burst from the street lamps; we swallowed the asphalt road with a jungle roar and the houses with their closed eyes and geranium eyelashes; swallowed the telegraph poles trembling with messages; swallowed stray cats, trees, hills, hedges, Sabina’s labyrinthian smile on the keyhole."

Thirdly, I have no argument, but I'm terribly jealous of her skill with words. Her writing is so evocative and powerful that it can bring even the most complex emotions and experiences to life. Consider this passage: "Cease trembling and shaking and gasping and cursing and find again your core which I am. Rest from twistedness, distortion, deformations. For an hour you will be me; that is, the other half of yourself. The half you lost. What you burnt, broke, and tore is still in my hands: I am the keeper of fragile things and I have kept of you what is indissoluble. Even the world and the sun cannot show their two faces at once. So now we are inextricably woven. I have gathered together all the fragments. I return them to you. You have run with the wind, scattering and dissolving. I have run behind you, like your own shadow, gathering what you have sown in deep coffers."

Fourthly, this is about lesbian desire, and I will not hear otherwise. It might be called the house of incest, but this is a diversion. It's one of the many lies she wrote about, and she's explaining the feelings of separation and alienation from the rest of society as a gay woman. As she writes: "I feel the distance like a wound. It unrolls itself before me like the rug before the steps of a cathedral for a wedding or a burial. It is unrolled like a crimson bride between the others and me, but I cannot walk on it without a feeling of uneasiness, as one has at ceremonies. The ceremony of walking along the unrolled carpet into the chapel where the functions unravel to which I am a stranger. I neither marry nor die. And the distance between the crowd, between the others and me, grows wider. Distance. I never walked over the carpet into the ceremonies. Into the fullness of the crowd life, into the authentic music and the odor of men. I never attended the wedding or the burial."

Fifthly, this is just spot on how I feel, so it deserves a spotlight. Her words capture the complex and often contradictory emotions that come with being in a relationship or seeking connection with others. She writes: "Don’t say anything, because I see that you understand me, and I am afraid of your understanding. I have such a fear of finding another like myself, and such a desire to find one! I am so utterly lonely, but I also have such a fear that my isolation be broken through, and I no longer be the head and ruler of my universe. I am in great terror of your understanding by which you penetrate into my world; and then I stand revealed and I have to share my kingdom with you."

Sixthly, not to sound like a broken record, but this is the best written explanation of how anxiety feels. Her description of the physical and emotional symptoms of anxiety is so accurate and relatable that it's almost painful to read. She writes: "Knowing only fear, it is true, such a fear that it chokes me, that I stand gaping and breathless, like a person deprived of air; or at other times, I cannot hear, I suddenly become deaf to the world. I stamp my feet and hear nothing. I shout and hear nothing of my shout. And then at times, when I lie in bed, fear clutches me again, a great terror of silence and of what will come out of this silence towards me and knock on the walls of my temples, a great mounting, choking fear. I knock on the wall, on the floor, to drive the silence away. I knock and I sing and I whistle persistently until I drive the fear away."

All in all, this is a masterpiece. It's a work of art that explores the depths of human emotion and experience with a rare combination of beauty, power, and insight. It's a book that will stay with you long after you've finished reading it, and one that you'll want to return to again and again to discover new layers of meaning and beauty.

I remember my first birth in water.

Everything around me has a transparent blueness and my bones seem to be rubbery and move.

I eat light and swim, standing on the tips of boneless fingers, listening to distant sounds, to the sounds behind the human ear, in the act of seeing things beyond the human eye's perception.

I am full of the memories of the bells of Atlantis. Always listening to lost sounds, in search of lost colors, forever standing at the threshold, like someone whose memories have been disturbed and I walk with swimming steps.

I have eaten the air with wide wings and I swim through the wall-less rooms.

There is a fissure in my vision, and madness will always rush through. It's like a wild river, uncontrollable and fierce.

Lean over me, at the bedside of my madness. Be there, like a silent presence, offering a glimmer of hope. Let me stand without crutches, finding my strength within the chaos.

Goddamn. She must've put her entire poetussy into this ambiguous all-vibes-meagre-plot thing. Every word, every line, is a masterpiece of emotion and mystery. And I loved EVERY second of it. It's like a drug, pulling me in and making me lose myself in its beauty.

Her writing is a force to be reckoned with, a storm that sweeps through my soul and leaves me breathless. I can't get enough of it, and I'm eager to see what else she has in store for us.

I find myself in a state of uncertainty regarding any event or place. The only thing I am certain of is my solitude. It is a constant companion, an unyielding presence.

I often wonder what the stars have to say about me. Do they hold the answers to my questions, the secrets of my existence?

Saturn, that mysterious planet, does it truly have eyes made of onions that weep all the time? And what about Mercury? Does it have chicken feathers on its heels, adding a touch of the absurd to its celestial nature?

Mars, the red planet, does it don a gas mask, perhaps protecting itself from the harsh environment of space?

And then there are the Gemini, the evolved twins. Do they continuously evolve, turning on a spit like a delicious roast, Gemini a la broche?

These questions swirl in my mind, as I gaze up at the stars, seeking meaning in their distant glow.

To the worms!!!! To the worms!!!!!!!!!

This exclamation seems to carry a sense of urgency and perhaps a touch of desperation. It makes one wonder what the connection is between the speaker and the worms.

Maybe the worms represent something significant, like a hidden truth or a lurking danger. Or perhaps the speaker is addressing the worms as if they have the power to bring about a change or solve a problem.

The repeated use of the exclamation marks emphasizes the intensity of the emotion behind the words. It creates a vivid image in the reader's mind and engages their curiosity.

As we continue to ponder the meaning of this phrase, we are left with a sense of mystery and anticipation. What will happen next? Will the worms respond? Or will this cry into the void remain unanswered?

In conclusion, the simple phrase "To the worms!!!! To the worms!!!!!!!!!" holds a wealth of potential interpretations and emotions, leaving the reader eager to discover more.