A ber one this book most of the time without a compass or astrolabe. Is a succession. A continuous greening that blooms despite their resignations. In a diary, as I do now, can you decide without further ruthlessly que los que correspondan a su estado de ánimo o que ocurran en unas circunstancias muy exactas. El peligro de establecerse en unas coordenadas reconocibles consiste en perder universalidad, cosa que sacude la literatura del momento, demasiado preocupada en sí misma y en sus cortas propuestas.
Hay que escribir como del alma. Hay que reconocerse en los márgenes de las anotaciones y para ello, para que eso sea una presencia figurada, el escritor debe hacerse invisible en su escritura. Una fantasmagoría, holograma o dicción de lo ausente.
Debería uno sentarse en el centro del bosque a respirar. A penetrarse en sí mismo para recoger en your lungs to breathe in the world, the slow and evanescent air invasion. Should one sit without support anything without being dropped on the ground. Breathe, shed light, merging into the vast gardens of the aurora.
in Fiesole, with an angry and vengeful sun, surrounded by pine and eucalyptus, bamboo, dreaming their trunks erect the arrival of light, lucid walked our breaths. The only inhabitant was silence. The branches dancing to mountain wind. They moved the branches and leaves of the vines poking their faces on the roads. Closed churches, closed houses, the fields were shut by the lethargy of Ferragosto. And only our steps, our early and tentative steps, for help against the Arno decrepit.
As the Tao, you look and you can not see, hear and you can not hear, but, above all, use it and you can not exhaust. Therein lies the power of literature, the state that the writer seeks: to find a creative band that never runs out despite yourself.
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At times, I am content to write in the notebook a few words: grayness, poetry, travel, status, beauty, for example. With just think them enough, as is his entry for the soul begins to beat us.
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S é these are not the only letters of the day. is customary, the more agitated and more I move forward, before I stop writing.
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