Shakespeare

SUMAR NR. 67 Pagini autobiografice José Saramago – Fărâme de memorii Ion Vianu – Exerciţiu de sinceritate (IV) Dincolo de eveniment Linda Polman – Victimele carităţii Mircea Vasilescu – Italia: între vechile ideologii şi noile probleme Adam Michnik

a fragment from The Blind, Chapter Two of Corpuri de iluminat/ Dark Bodies Through Sfântul Ştefan, beyond the old Height and over the tramline in Bărăţiei, a phanariot and decayed Bucharest drained under the snow; a balcony fallen onto its side reminds you that once,

Me sucedió en esta vida la cosa más triste posible: de poeta he llegado a ser autor. Creo que fui un poeta verdadero alguna vez, en mi adolescencia, cuando aún no había publicado – y, salvo mi diario íntimo, tampoco había escrito – nada. Es mi estado ideal, perdido

Tengo ganas de escribir sólo cuando estoy en un estado explosivo, con fiebre o en crispación, en un estupor convertido en frenesí, en un clima de disputas en el cual las invectivas reemplazan las bofetadas y los golpes. Esto suele comenzar así: un leve temblor que va

An Individual without Individualism To a new society – a new man. Naturally, one would not fancy a communist world inhabited by middle-class people in disguise. That was the most delicate problem raised by transformist mythology. One could not rebuild the economy and

I certainly am neither the first, nor the only person to notice that the fantastic appears as a distinctive feature of Nordic, non-Latin peoples, rather than of the meridional spirit. The solar, mercantile, skeptical-rationalist South, and the sanguine, outgoing, relativistic

excerpts In the large house of the Barbus, in the Mogoşoaia Bridge Street, the main staircase was guarded by two bronze moors, carrying huge, crystal lamps. Upstairs, you climbed to the boyar's dwelling. Under the first steps, however, a narrow door opened toward the

Xmx is capable of voicing any text (well, not voicing, interpreting it), whether it is Shakespeare's or Chekhov's. There is just one single word he cannot say: no. He is solicited by a TV station for two lines consisting of three words; he would like to tell the

The founder of the Theater of the Absurd (with The Bald Soprano, staged in 1950 by Nicolas Bataille at the Theatre des Noctambules in Paris, a play he had begun in the 40s while still in Romania under the title English without a Teacher), a member of the French Academy from

Not thinking about anything. Only thinking of petty little things. Not thinking about the Whole. Thinking about everything and nothing. Thinking about petty little nothings. And, if I can, I think that God thinks me, thinking under God's protection. Is God there? Does

vol. II: 1937 – 1960 XXIIII begin to discover America… Chicago, December 10, 1984. For a whole fifteen minutes I have been standing by my window, staring blankly out into the street, without even understanding why. I got up from my desk because I thought it had started

1945 January 1st Absolutely alone, this Eve. First time ever, I imagine. Listening to the King's speech and to general Rădescu's[i]. Nonetheless, kicked off the evening by a prayer: asked God for PEACE, serenity, calmness. At the depth of my soul: melancholy,