We are all immortals — just backward.
And yet — Borges himself is immortal.
So here is the secret Borges leaves us:
Jorge Luis Borges belongs to the latter — a blind librarian who saw infinity in a chessboard, a man who wrote essays disguised as fiction and fiction disguised as footnotes. But more than anything, Borges wrote about immortality — not as a blessing, but as a beautiful, terrifying labyrinth. the immortal borges
We don’t live forever. Instead, we live only in memory . And memory is Borges’s true labyrinth. It has no center. It has no exit. It is simply a corridor that folds back on itself, where your father is still young, where the book you haven’t written yet is already reviewed, where a blind Argentine man is smiling at you from across the century, saying: “Being immortal is unimportant; what matters is being remembered — and even that is a kind of fiction.” Read him. Reread him. Get lost. That’s the point. We are all immortals — just backward