G. Cabrera Infante

From Vista del amanecer en el trópico

They hid in a house on Hope Street. It seems like an irony of fate, as they say, but it’s true. They told the landlord, or whoever opened the door, “Please, sir, hide us. Tyranny is after us.” That’s true too: that was what they said. How they converted that terrible but still personal moment into a generalization, almost into an abstract idea; how they did it, no one knows. We only know that they did it. They hid in a house on Hope Street and the police came and pulled them out into the street and killed them near the marketplace. But that was later. What matters now, what is really moving, is that those three almost naked boys (one of them was barefoot) said, while being chased: “Tyranny is after us,” and not: “The police are after us,” or “The army.” No, they said precisely that Tyranny was after them, and that was what made them into heroes.
Don’t you have to believe that, if there exists a poetical intuition, there exists also an historical intuition?