The word is yours (mine)
No man is an island, this has been said and written many a times.
Inevitably, this means that nobody can be seen as completely independent,
not his personality nor his personal development; they are both fruits of his environment,
his network and the values to which he has been exposed.
As you might know by now, I am very much dependent on literature.
On the written word, stories, descriptions and alternatives of the so-called reality.
But contrary to so many other bibliophiles, I have not built my personal bubble
by surrounding myself with the great literary personas as my allies.
Holden Caulfield, Marian MacAlpin and Dorian Grey, though important protagonists in the stories I know so well,
are not the most valuable imprints I have chosen to take with me from their stories.
I indulge in the words.
I rarely remember the names of ficticious characters at all, but I can quote more phrases than I've read books.
As I re-read my favourite books, these phrases become my fellow conspirators, my friends.
I think of them often and fondly and gradually they became my own. It's not really stealing, is it?
It certainly is not intentional...
One day I merely find myself answering to an enigmatic question in the words of
Milan Kundera, Jeanette Winterson and Anaïs Nin.
Yet they feel like they arise from my soul.
Meaning is never absolute nor definitive.
and words are signifiers only.
My signified is my construction, even though I borrow the signs from the masters.
