In prose, especially fiction, Arte Povera is a tough style to sell. Iván Mándy’s late work, quintessentialized by the novella Left Behind, shares qualities with not only Arte Povera but also with the beatup Baluch nomad prayer rug you hang on your wall after giving it a good wash and overcasting its edges with brown wool. Treasures found in the dust, dusted off, begin to shine in the thoughtful beholder’s eye.
There are only instants, got it? Instants, instants counted by telephone companies. You can’t let a single instant pass without saying yes. If you start thinking the whole thing’s damned. Nothing matters but that it should cost money. If you cost money, you exist.
"Without this, life itself just doesn’t work. Football is the arena of initiation, admission, and success, boys settle it playing, on their own, without any intervention from adults, cleanly and without pity, like wolf-cubs."