Obviously, is quite difficult to achieve certain levels of expression, poetical expression, with this idiomatic mutation. You feel your brain as something slow, something heavy, as it were flowing in some kind of moody waters.
This morning, I would like to write the most boring post in the world; it's an idea that cames up in relation to yesterday's post, yesterday's title. Then, I remembered this previous idea: the amazing possibility of writing using different codes. Anyway, it will be, as you can realize, something completely boring and full of mistakes, I am sure. I will appreciate corrections from readers like you.
I know this text has no sense. It's only a tentative of something. Maybe this is a new challenge, a new writing category, a new and interesting skill to develop. In following posts, I will try to share some content with you, I think this one, the very first one, is void as an Oteiza hole, but I know you will be patient with me.
Somehow, I have experimented, in a very small way, how those former writers (Beckett, Nabokov, Kundera) could feel in their borrowed languages. Some feelings of rootlessness but also a new style, a new wrapping linguistic paper, something that wraps your words in a new relig of elegance, sobriety, balance.
I am glad of this find. Thank you for reading this boring post, these dispersed ideas, there will be more in the future.
Beckett, Nabokov & Kundera