I see her as being of one flesh with the man from Cholon, but in a shining, solar, innocent present, in a continual self-flowering which springs out of each action, each tear, each of her faults, each of her ignorances.
Cholengo gizon horren haragi berberekoa bailitzan ikusten dut, baina orainaldi distiratsu, eguzkitsu, errugabe batean halere, bere etengabeko agerpenean, keinu bakoitzean, malko bakoitzean, bere akatsetariko bakoitzean, bere ezjakintasun bakoitzean.