After reading On the Eighth Day, the question I ask myself is this: If my writing could be turned into loaves of bread, and be given to hungry people, would I embrace that miracle, or would I want to keep the writing as it is and let the people starve? In other words, would I cling to the fleeting image of myself as a writer, even at the expense of the lives of others? For once the words became loaves, they would be gone; the books they were in would cease to exist; this blog would be a derelict place with a creaking sign, nothing more. Or are the writings herein another kind of bread, which feeds another kind of hunger? And what of my own hunger, which can only be satisfied by the act of writing itself? The answer to all of this, it seems, is simply to write more, and see what other miracles arise.
~
[ 1990 ]
Categories: Annotations and Elucidations
William Michaelian 