Nothing more certain about the past than the title of this book itself. We were songs.
Elisabet benavent has launched into the center of the target with this narrative proposal that delves into that idea of a song that wraps a memory like a gift from the past, capable of opening for us with the first chords.
A song can return us to the very moment in which we caress those lips with ours. And a kind of magical realism returns with powerful nostalgia.
And it is that in the end, senses such as hearing, or even smell (who has not evoked an old place in town by smelling wood in the fire), compensate for the prosaic perspective of sight, the transience of touch and the variability of the taste.
Macarena has her song, that song that is capable of uniting all the senses towards the magic of the past made present.
Only… there are certain risks. Those songs of ours remind us of what we were, they give us back an idealized memory that, perhaps, it cannot be again.
Macarena then has the strange happiness of melancholy or the possibility of rising from the embers of what was with that other person who accompanied her song.
He was Leo. And Macarena doesn't even know if they still share old chords in her heart.
But Macarena knows she must take a chance. You need to take risks to be true to what that song whispered and now dictates as a message from destiny.
Like many of us, Macarena fills her holes as best she can, she enjoys work, her friends, and her hobbies. Except that Leo is still there, like a memory transformed into a debt, like a poorly closed destiny that only a song takes care of feeding in search of its final materialization…. That, or is it just an illusion.
You will have no choice but to read this book that will be extended in a new installment to compose the set Songs and Memories.
With a small discount through this blog (always appreciated), you can now buy the novel We were songs, Elisabet Benavent's new book, here: