Escapar (o “El Andariego, otra vez”)


¿No sientes a veces el deseo -urgente, ineludible, brutal, palpitante- de escapar?

No, no porque las cosas vayan mal. Eso es lo más terrible y fascinante: quieres escapar mientras todo va muy bien. Y aunque va bien -de hecho, precisamente porque va bien- te mueres por huir.


Aguarda, aguarda un momento. No es “escapar” la palabra correcta. Es, acaso, no fijar, dejar caer, seguir, flotar, ser conducido, moverse… Nunca echar raíces, nunca sentar cabeza. Sólo, sencillamente, ser.

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Memories of Green


Rachael: You think I’m a replicant, don’t you? [pause] Look, it’s me with my mother.
Deckard: Yeah. [pause] Remember when you were six? You and your brother snuck into an empty building through a basement window… you were gonna play doctor. He showed you his, but when it got to be your turn you chickened and ran. Remember that? You ever tell anybody that? Your mother, Tyrell, anybody, huh? You remember the spider that lived in a bush outside your window… orange body, green legs. Watched her build a web all summer. Then one day there was a big egg in it. The egg hatched…

[2:19 – Soundtrack: Memories of Green, Vangelis]

Rachael: The egg hatched…
Deckard: Yeah…
Rachael: … and a hundred baby spiders came out. And they ate her.
Deckard: Implants! Those aren’t your memories. They’re somebody else’s. They’re Tyrell’s niece’s. [pause] Okay, bad joke. I made a bad joke. You’re not a replicant. Go home, okay? No really, I’m sorry. Go home. [pause] Want a drink? I’ll get you a drink. I’ll get a glass. [Rachael runs away when Deckard turns to get a glass. Then, Deckard looks at Rachael’s photo.]

Bladerunner, de Ridley Scott