There is a young man that travels through his youth using his ideal of poets and artists as an excuse for his fear, fear of doing really something, of taking responsibilities.
He hopes to be equal to Eliot and Pound, but does not strive to be like them, using life as an excuse to be a terrible poet and using poetry as an excuse for escaping from real life; the worst part being he knows all this himself.
"You don't flip the pages of a Coetzee when you're under a loathing for mankind and the world at large," Asha Surkha told me once. "His books are ugly. but only when you know how ugly is an object and you still decide to love it, it's true love."
Tis one of the few things Asha had told me. yes, this was what she told me. When she was Asha...Continua