There are those who write as if waking up from a great lethargy and quench their thirst with the water that stagnates at the bottom, which rotting feeds the flowers. And here I think of Marosa di Giorgio, Silvina Ocampo and Hilda Hilst. Three women as mysterious as their works, that of innocents have very little, although we were invited to believe otherwise to appear among fairies, old dolls and tennis courts. Notice: it's just the wrapper. Your reading leaves. What's more, with those names, who would expect anything else? Of course, nothing indicates that they were invented. If it even seems that it was the other way around, they wrote to be up to it, like someone who obeys a design.