If I have seen further, it is because I am sitting on the shoulders of giants’ shoulders, wrote Isaac Newton to Robert Hooke. The phrase is not original to Newton, and may in fact be a hidden invective dedicated to his interlocutor. As early as 1159 John of Salisbury wrote in his work Metalogicon: Bernard of Chartres said that we are like dwarfs on the shoulders of giants. We can see more, and farther than they, not because of any physical distinction of ours, but because we are elevated by their great height.
Authors like Poe, Borges, García Márquez, Cortázar or Juan Rulfo are the giants on whose shoulders a walkway has been formed with the twenty-four stories presented here, stories of this and other worlds, those we try to reach since we are human with questions, stories or religions in the perpetual crossing of a border with no way out. This route is the one that pretends to recreate this footbridge to scale, and it is hoped that the readers will enjoy as they cross the vertiginous structure that battalions of laborious and stubborn dwarfs raised leaning on golden beetles, paths that fork, planes of sleeping beauties, upside down nights, Luvinas: -What is it? -he said; “What is what? -He asked him; “That, that noise; “It’s the silence,” the builders were talking among themselves, still arguing and working, hanging over the abyss.
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