In January 1945, Rulfo wrote: “I don’t know what is happening within me; but at every moment I feel there is something great and noble for which one can struggle and live. That great thing, for me, is you…. I was reading a fellow called Walt Whitman a while ago and found something that says:
‘Whoever walks a furlong without sympathy walks to his own funeral, dressed in his shroud.’ And this made me recall that I was always taking my love with
me everywhere, until I met you and gave it entirely to you.”
In his foreword, Alberto Vidal writes: “The papers of a great writer do in fact possess the character of documents.” And they help to answer a question: “How is that Rulfo wrote those three hundred pages that Gabriel García Márquez has put on the same level as Sophocles, that is, one of the men who contributed to the founding of civilization?”