I wanted to write and I wanted to write in order to show myself that my identity and my country were real: now, in Chile, as I started to scribble my first stories, even publishing them in school magazines, I learned that I must in fact write in Spanish.
The English language, after all, did not need another writer. The English language has always been alive and kicking, and if it ever becomes drowsy, there will be always be an Irishman . . .
-- Carlos Fuentes, "How I Started to Write," reprinted from The Art of the Personal Essay, edited by Phillip Lopate.
New ID picture! New identity?! Am not sure if the blurry (but artistic) YOU reflected there will pass muster with post 9/11 passport phot requirements. I'm assuming you will not be travelling out of the country until you've got your motion photography in control. I miss the old guy & the typewriter. All that was missing was a bottle of Metamucil. An ID photo for these ages.
Posted by: DarkoV | March 20, 2005 at 07:25 AM
Darko -- It ain't me, babe. It's a babe.
Posted by: Outer Life | March 20, 2005 at 10:11 AM
yeah, I miss the old guy, too! bring back the creator of bertie and jeeves! (I really thought that old dude WAS you, and rather enjoyed the rantings of a septuagenarian who was so technologically hep to the 'net!) The Happy Booker
Posted by: Happy Booker | March 20, 2005 at 07:14 PM