Jorge Luis Borges, The Art of Fiction No. 39

by Ronald Christ At diagonally opposite corners of the room are two large, revolving bookcases that contain, Miss Quinteros explained, books Borges frequently consults, all arranged in a certain order and never varied so that Borges, who is nearly blind, can find them by position and size. The dictionaries, for instance, are set together, among them…

Light

And there I was standing among the human ant hill, wary of time and looking straight ahead with no more than an idea of what is in front of me than a blind man groping his way among strangers. What could’ve I done, to paint a mixture of colors to the eyes of these city…

Icarus Tendencies

I have to get away for a while. Stroll along wild brooks and dip on pools of mist. I have to strip myself from the modesty of strangers and the safe harbor of comfort. Icarus tendencies, that’s what they call it. I’d burn my wings to feel the wind.