Christ in disguise
There must have been at least sixty of us in the choir tonight, and it’s always powerful when there are that many of us; the audience is quickly drawn in. But right at the start of the concert, a bloke —a homeless man— started hanging around in the middle, between the audience and us, making strange gestures, it was a bit awkward having him there (…)
Willy
Friday, half past eight, Plaza de la Catedral. It is drizzling. The square is deserted; now and then, the footsteps of a passer-by echo in the night, then disappear like a mirage. Little by little, some shadows glide across the cobblestones, and beneath the remains of the Roman wall (…)
“IF YOU WANT TO WRITE,
if you want to create, you must
be the most sublime fool that God
ever turned out and sent rambling.
You must write
every single day
of your life.
You must read dreadful dumb books,
and glorious books, and
let them wrestle
in beautiful fights inside your head. (…)
I wish you a wrestling match with your
creative Muse that will
last a lifetime.
(…) Which finally means:
May you be in love
every day for the next 20 000 days
and out of that love,
remake the world.
— Ray Bradbury
