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Luck

by Roberto Bolano
Translated by Laura Healy

Luck

Roberto Bolano
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He was coming back from a week of work in the country
at the home of a real asshole and it was December or January,
I don’t remember, but it was cold and on arriving in Barcelona the snow
began to fall and he took the metro and rode until the corner
where his friend lived and called her on the phone so she’d
come down and see the snow. A beautiful night, without a doubt,
and his friend invited him to have a cup of coffee and then they made love
and talked and much later he was asleep and he dreamt
that he was arriving at a house in the country and the snow was falling
behind the house, behind the mountains, the snow was falling
and he found himself trapped in the valley and he was calling his friend
on the phone and the cold voice (cold but friendly!) was telling him
that from this immaculate grave not even the bravest would leave
unless he were very lucky.

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