Okonkwo the central character of Things Fall Apart has a spiritual comrade in Ethiopian Emperor Tewdros II and his son Prince Alemayehu who is buried at Windsor Castle. Okonkwo's is the story of exile and returnee.
The line of horizon has vanished – or become invisible – and the sea and sky are one heart of darkness. I am sat beneath the Sardinian night sky by the Mediterranean sea and I have finished a book and the line between it and I has also vanished. As if the end of a concert I could stand and applaud except it would seem I was applauding the sea. Instead sentences splash inside me with an overpowering sense of awe.
I blog in lieu of family and in spite of its invisible line to memory and relativity. In a sense I seek horizon, the delineation between yesterday tomorrow and now. And yet as artist I seek the moment when all become one. In so much that is the feeling of creation. I guess the difference between writer and reader is the former has not the time to applaud whereas the latter is compelled. No? Wish I'd brought more books. Le Journaliste's Vanity Fair is looking more and more attractive.