Wednesday, October 22, 2008


Naipaul's Half A Life


The air was hot and stale inside. Looking out from the bedroom window, through wire netting and dead insects, at the rough garden and the tall paw-paw trees and the land falling away past groves of cashews and clusters of grass roofs to the rock cones which in the distance appeared to make a continuous low pale-blue range, Willie thought, 'I dont know where I am. I don't think I can pick up my way back. I don't ever want this view to become familiar. I must not unpack. I must never behave as though I am staying.'

Monday, October 20, 2008

Even the impossible says:
" I' m possible"!