I finally made some time to continue reading yet another of my favorite author’s finest works. It was a struggle reading this particular fiction: from flicking to the next page to putting it all down and from immersing in the streets of Cannes to resurfacing for realistic breathing. I must say I was unprepared for this kind of learning; I’m still trying to be. The story itself is not something my pure mind would be willing to handle, but I believe would be vital if I were to continue living. Indeed, the choice I made when I purchased this book was very fitting to my reason for getting myself a graduation present.
The Winner Stands Alone, by Paulo Coelho, is short of Shakespearian love and more of macabre reality. That is what I’ve come to realize as soon as it became obvious that Igor, a psychopathic character, is completely resolved to his mission of killing for love. Murder, scandal, covetousness and the sorts are all too common when you live in my part of the Earth, and so I’ve consciously accepted that I would be forever living with them. And with that acceptance, I chose to not mind them for they are all too negative and frightful. Coming across them in literature was always at a technical and political perspective, which explains my hesitation in perceiving them with affection and emotion in mind. To me, murder is never justified, whatever the circumstance, and the destruction of universe is of an alien or astrophysical phenomenon; yet, Paulo Coelho showed me something more. Continue reading
TEAPOTTED DREAMS 