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 home > stories > words
> Sepulveda - Moleskine. Apuntes y reflexiones |
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Moleskine It is a notebook with a black cover that I take everywhere. Into it I pour my doubts, my astonishments, and my everyday moments of irritation. On its pages I jot down articles, chapters of novels, short stories, recipes, things I intend to do, and reminders of obligations that tend to slip my mind. My relationship with Moleskine is deeply emotional, and when a like minded reader, woman or man—that is why I write, to reach out to the like- minded—gives me one, unmarked, still encased in cellophane, I am deeply grateful. But the day always comes when there are no more blank pages, and I reread my writing, in a brief ceremony of farewell, before turning to a new Moleskine. As I read these pages, I find that I am still able to astonish myself. It is like respooling a film of my life, and watching it slip by, frame by fleeting frame. How different the articles seem, before being edited to fit; how naïve the additions to this chapter or that, with marginal notes like “impossible to use” or “could this be useful?” The texts that appear here come from the three Moleskines I filled up between January 2002 and March 2004. Since then, as Vincent Van Gogh once wrote to his brother Théo, “the windmills are gone, but the wind is unchanged.” Freely translated from the Spanish edition. Every effort has been made to obtain permission to use copyright materials. The publishers apologize for any errors or omissions. www.guanda.it www.edicionesb.com |
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