Higashiyama ward — “Most Japanese girls giggle,” begins Capote’s 1957 profile on Marlon Brando for The New Yorker. I first came across this piece a few years ago during my Capote phase in which I was hunting down and devouring any and every piece of his writing I could find. This one resonated in a particularly powerful way. Capote wasn’t just profiling Brando, he was profiling him in a post-war Kyoto that I had ne...
New york — I discovered a copy of T.E. Lawrence’s Seven Pillars of Wisdom on a low shelf in the bookstore across the street. It’s a wonderful read - an autobiography with all the lyricism and depth of a great n...
London — I used to circle the London Book Fair like I was lost in strange water. There are more big fish in suits and power dresses there than in my small book pond. You overhear phrases like, ‘Of course their...
Hemingway; Wisdom in Purest Form
Question the authors, Not their motive
Meeting an old friend
Seven months ago I left my job. This is the chronicle of a failure. My failure.
Small lungs shouting
Y a pesar de todo, aun con el incesante goteo del tiempo, sigues allí. Cada estación. Cada lustro. Cada siglo recordando la eternidad.
En los albores del día, cuando las ideas aun no se han decidido por ser reales o no, la naturaleza se ha permitido ser.
The day i met Eduardo Galeano
The Book Market
Me miraban inquietos años de cultura e historia. No tenía nada que decir. Y si lo hubiera tenido, mejor callar y ser parte de esa historia.
El futuro espera, resabiado, tus esperanzas y sueños. Sabe lo que va a suceder. Pero no te lo dirá. Porque su poder radica en que las tengas.
Puertas que son bocas abiertas al nuevo mundo. Iluminan senderos que antes fueron caminos tortuosos. Luceros de día, huidas de noche
No digas que se oculteNo digas que se detengaNo digas nadaNo lo eres para tamaño atardecerNo lo fuiste para serlo de alguien.
Monday. We leave Wadi Halfa at about noon - the boat has its mast felt.
Gone but not forgotten...
High up with Mr. Mitchell
...the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dreams with open eyes, to make it possible.
Monday the 28th. Introduction to Mr Le Moyne, General Consul in Cairo
In her pre-Frankenstein days...
Cairo. Mosque of Hassan.
Writing is like living in another world. You tell stories of characters who are your friends or your enemies.
"Woher kommt die Inspiration?" Aus dem Moment, aus den Geschichten, die dir das Leben erzählt.
Literature-Music-Books-Spoken word - Short story reading -Live on a Trotro
Sand - the village looks less poor than the last one.
Tuesday. Traveled about 7 miles. In the afternoon, boarded two cangias of slaves merchants going down to Cairo - bought belts and amulets.
Passing the First Cataract.
Wednesday. We arrive in Esna.(...)House of Kuchiuk-Hanem.
In the middle of the day we see several crocodiles at the tip of an islet.
Friday March, 1st. At 11:10 a.m. I saw my first crocodile.
Friday. Boarding in the evening at Souadeh - moon - palm trees (on the right bank, to our left).
Monday. Rest. We meet the boat of Mr Robert and the Pole who lived in Neufchâtel.
At 5 a.m. I wake Joseph up, who leaps up: “Si signore”;
We leave for Medinet el-Fayoum on horrendous donkeys, provided with even more horrendous saddles.
Saturday, same anchorage.
Friday. Pulled with a rope in the morning for four hours;
Thursday morning, the 7th. When I go on deck, we are very close to the bank.
Dinner at Soliman Pasha’s with Mr Machereau, former arts teacher at the Gizah school (closed).
Ceremony of the “Dauseh” = trampling