It is true that the wheel of history spins in a circle. But individual men are the center, the spoke, which...
Two years after I first heard about it during my Bolaño craze, I have finally started Javier Marías’ ...
I was nineteen. It was the end of summer, August, the summer of schizophrenia, when I decided to be a write...
Those people I left, those minds, those souls, I wonder, do they ever think of me? Do they ever stop and cr...
I’m writing publicly again, here on this blog. I am on the seventh and final short story in an antho...
I hope not to spoil some undiscovered joy by recounting my experience.