Abstract

Historias de la desaparición is read as a narration. A narration filled with enigma and surprises, a detective tale, an actual research, which could be a lost volume that Borges and Bioy Casares had left in the drawer containing the delayed projects of ‘The seventh circle’. The chasing of a woman walking through the lonely streets, a clicking of heels that ceases to be listened, a pool filled with reflections (not) embodying nothing, Kafkaesque transformations and erased footprints on the snow, stopped trains amongst shadow and mist, millers and chimney sweeps confused in an absurd fight from a primitive film, crowds appearing and disappearing in the same frame, shapes trying to get out from a boulder sculpted by a Renaissance master, Lynchian creatures diving, like fragile Proustian figures, into the pool in Sunset Boulevard, and other figures, Hitchcockian this time, making the sparkle in their dizzying aura flash by the minute against the sinister nature of forgetting, are some of the pieces in the puzzle that Fillol’s research invites to complete.