| New Orleans Mon Amour |
[Oct. 1st, 2006|08:30 pm] |
I'm reading Andre Condrescu's book, New Orleans Mon Amour. I'm always in awe of anyone who can write so brilliantly in a language that isn't their first language. Here's my favorite passage so far:
There are certain cities and certain areas of certain cities where the official language is dreams. Venice is one. And Paris. North Beach in San Francisco. Wenceslaus Square in Prague. And New Orleans, the city that dreams stories. Writers come and eavesdrop and take some of those stories with them, but these are a just a few drops from a Mississippi River of stories. The Mississippi brings all its stories here from the rest of the country and can barely contain itself from bursting when New Orleans adds its own stories. |
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