In her introduction to the book The Foreign Legion, Clarice says: “I am fond of the unfinished, the poorly made, that which awkwardly attempts to fly and falls flat on the ground.” Parallel to her taste for the unfinished – or even the poorly finished –, we witness a refusal of the end. Questions about the beginning of life, the world, and writing are confused with the permanent doubt in relation to the moment when things end: the conclusion of texts or the end of life itself. It is eloquent that the author has left an unfinished book: A Breath of Life. Death and life sparkle in Clarice Lispector’s writing as threads that join in a stunning state of suspension: in infinity.