The greatest writer of the 20th century, if not all time, for me, is Jorge Luis Borges. And if one reads Borges, he must also read Roberto Bolaño. I haven't read Bolaño before and I am starting with 2666. A serendipitous start with this quote in the book's opening:
An oasis of horror in a desert of boredom. -Charles Baudelaire
And Baudelaire reminds me that I must return to Fleurs du Mal soon again.Just what I needed to start the day!
The teleology of architecture is ruin. The fate of empires is to lay waste. Those cities turn to dust, By the marauding armies of horses, And elephants, and men in armour. Armour of greed and hierarchy, Of memories of loss. The granite boulders carved into monuments, Only to be ground
Silent runes and arabesque Tell a story Kafkaesque Of a riverman When the river dried A doorman When the doors closed A clergyman When lies arrived A swordsman When they won A spokesman And lied some more An everyman. Silent runes and arabesque Tell a story Kafkaesque Of found treasures
I had nothing to give to that old woman. Who begs at the lights, She gave me instead, Embers and cinders; Decay and suffering; A life unredeemed; Infinite infamy and inquity, I have it all She gave me more, and old poem too. Yanked out like a spasm. A poem
There was a time when I found pilgrimages to be an unnecessary exertion. One could find all that is to see within one's self. And perhaps that may be true. But I have found myself to be going on pilgrimages. Sometimes, I know I am going on one.