people say that sharing is important. the need to share experiences, thoughts, ideas, obsessions with those closest to us. having that in mind, i think that typing some words - more as an exercise because quite frankly i haven't done anything "literary" in a while - and sharing those chaotic sentences with the few people who follow that blog (if they are still around) won't do much harm even if they don't contribute to anything good, creative or constructive.
so, for the first time in a long, long - what? - time i feel somewhat inspired. thanks to a fellow by the name of philip roth and his novel exit ghost. i don't want to say what the book is about not because i am too dumb to know, but because i am still reading it. i just want to share with myself, a few friends and possible the world (a thought that makes me laugh) that this is a remarkable read and that i hope and dream that one day i will be capable of producing a text which will be as good as roth's. i just want to think and believe that if i decide to sit on my ass and dwell into the process of writing i will be capable of polishing the little talent i am confident that i have and create something... i don't know, something good. i know it's vague, but this is the closest i can get to expressing what circulates in my childish mind at the time.
this is all. nothing more, nothing less. i just feel inspired again. despite the BB person i see all the time on TV; despite the fact that my city feels and looks like a god-forsaken village where life doesn't happen anymore; despite the provincialism that i feel even in my lungs every time i go out for a walk; despite the patchy friendships i am exhausted maintaining; despite the fact that i am not certain whether i can call my home, in which i grew up, 'home.' despite all that, i feel like i can manage somehow, somewhere, one day.
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