An important moment of the day today was the Literary Cafe. The
inform young people of my city is organizing a wonderful project to the rediscovery of the most famous ever written texts, analysis and commentary that comes from the mouths and hearts of the children who hear it.
Sometimes it happens that the boys have wanted to write stories and share them with everyone. The next time maybe someone will pay to continue the story in order to pursue a writing an intricate story, full of a thousand voices, written by a hundred hands.
I, as I said, I can not call myself a writer, since they do not think I have neither the talent neither the style nor the technique Franco Forte (yes, I know it seems a joke, but really exists, and today we read an excerpt from his book) defines it as the main pillars of writing.
The fact is that sometimes I feel so small that it no longer wants to take a pen in hand, but then the desire to write became so strong, so obsessive that I can not to refrain from using this great method.
To be honest I'm not even a big reader (and this can be seen from my use of punctuation consinte only in commas and periods) but when I read in what I identify with completely, and even when I'm reading the book is not more in my hands, my head continues to live almost like totally sucked from the story.
However, today we read an excerpt taken from "Recherche du temps perdu" Proust's description of the most striking example of meticulous and we opposed to a book Agota Cristof, a writer who has an Eastern-style thin that it seeks 'essentiality.
Frankly I find myself much more in the second, as his way of speaking from the mind of the reader more opportunity to compare the situation given in the book to real life, Proust is much more accurate and this allows the reader to "imagine" .
say that this experience has filled me the soul, the heart and mind of happiness is very simplistic, but I must also say that the comparison with the children and the reading of passages left me puzzled, because, once I regained consciousness of my littleness, as a girl, as a small "writer" and as a person.
hover in my ignorance, many times, not having to expose any kind of confrontation with anyone ... but this makes it clear how much more "small" I am.
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