A woman —I ought to say a stranger— who caresses you, teases you, is sweet with you and brings you to the edge of a precipice. There, the protagonist gasps or goes pale. As if he were inside a kaleidoscope and caught sight of the eye watching him. Colors arranging themselves in a geometry far from anything you're ready to acceptas okay. And so begins autumn, between the Oñar river and the hill of las Pedreras.
Roberto Bolaño
Translation from Laura Healy