Sometimes it is difficult to control the strong disinterest in literature and its devices, which arises after contact with the extraordinary in a real story. Come to mind all the criticism of Northrop Frye, systematizer of a wide variety of creative possibilities, divisions into genres, modes, particular uses of symbols, myths, etc., etc. All of this, in short, is quite interesting, but seems insignificant in the face of a simple real experience. The question arises: for what purpose do we read and study? And then we realize that literature, like any science, the more we study it from a strictly technical perspective, the more we leave aside what truly justifies a creation. It is very, very difficult not to want to send all these expedients to hell and retreat forever into silence and meditation.