Read my essay back to me by cueshe
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It was a very intense celebration. When you can prove to yourself that it is possible, whatever it was, and that in the end you achieve an objective, satisfaction is enormous. Another language with which I live has caught me in a project of no small intensity. Upcoming projects will be a declaration of war on everything I do not want to read. That is already much more than what can be expected. We want to write a novel that may be classified as a contemporary narrative. We have read a lot of narrative, a lot... We already have the plot and we have to populate it with characters. Each one with its character, appearance, vices, defects and virtues. The manuals teach and advise us to endow these creatures with solid, well-defined profiles. You already know that I just published a novel. With it I experiment and try, I repeat, I try to put into practice what I preach from this blog. Naturally the plots are born of an unexpected fact, something that forces the normality, which imprints the atmosphere of the novel, to become an unusual fact. In "Good luck, friend" the characters are not described in a conventional way. The episodes follow each other and impose new rules of the game. Our novel is not a movie. Let's not just chronicle some events that we imagine. To break with the literary routine is to offer a game that develops as it advances in the time space of our universes. And the characters play this game, they build and destroy themselves, they are born, they grow and they disappear. By themselves, as events demand. Like life itself, in order to account. The protagonist of my novel enjoys a particularity that my readers have not even noticed, successfully achieved the goal of my experiment. When I pointed out to him, they hallucinated a lot, realizing what I did. I do not know why but I think it would be something very different from what our protagonist decides, whose first objective is to safeguard the peace and tranquility of his family and his own life. However something happens when you realize the enormous responsibility that comes with being the center of such an overwhelming destiny. It does not dirty the pitch more than the sense if it is applied by mistake where the stupor in helmet that is not used nests. The goddess sniffs; look for what you do not have; he sees bubbles that explode between needles: there only music gets out. You decide what you will do and there is no going back; There is no god anymore, for an atheist. Now you are flesh, infamous traitor of your own flock. October 4, 2014 What drives me to write? Error checking email. Please try again Sorry, your blog can not share posts by email.
Even though terror is not one of the genres most exploited by Henry James, it shows signs of dominating it and of knowing how to take it to its maximum exponent. He knows how to give, as the title indicates, a twist. In this work we find ourselves before what Todorov called "pure fantasy". It does not show us with a magic or fantastic world, but it leaves us with the doubt before the enigma. Afterwards, it is only a presence to which the governess can not go, not even when she is certain that something is wrong at home. What worries her is not the person locked up in the big house, prey to madness and illness, as in Brönte's work, but some appearances that we do not know if they are real or not. They appear both outside and inside the house, but nobody else sees them. As I said before, for me this is a round work, where two possible equally acceptable interpretations persist: the evil of the children or the madness of the governess. Henry James finishes the novel leaving it in the air. All the doubts that the reader could have, remain unanswered by the author. It must be the mind of the one who reads them. There comes what everyone wants to interpret. I am left with the idea of having found myself again with a great work. As always, a pleasure to read to Henry James.
At last you have me in your arms as you dreamed or as you feared, be that as it may, I am here and I breathe on you. I look at you because your eyes have light and it's almost the only thing I can see well. I feel different smells and other textures, the force of gravity pulls me down and I am afraid to fall: but your hands come and cradle me, so nothing bad can happen. The first moments are intense, but each day will be easier and less overwhelming. For me it will be too, it's not easy to be out here, but you can make me feel so good when I feel your body nearby. Mom, let yourself be carried away by what I need, do not fight. I am part of your body and I am on your side. Forget about the hours, enjoy. But if you do not resist letting yourself go, it will be wonderful. Without that body nobody would exist. You will always be the one before but you will have the opportunity to reach your best version. Do not worry, it goes fast, very fast. Dear mom, thank you for loving me so much. Although sometimes you want your life back and think about going away to be able to be at peace, that is also part of being a mother and it happens to all of them but it is a secret that nobody counts. The sleepless nights, the daily work, everything that you have set aside for me I will keep in mind and I will leave it reflected in my heart. Thank you for what you build, because deep down we build together and although we are surrounded by people or alone, it will always be a two-issue.
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