"When I was seventeen or eighteen, and began to spend most of my time on my own, reading... like every Turk who loved reading, I started writing poetry... I was like one of those innocent souls who, when they see an 'abstract' painting think: 'I could do that'... I started wanting to write poetry and I sat down at my desk and wrote some."
From a lovely article by Pamuk on his life with books, published in El Paí
5 comments:
Delightful looking fellow...Nice post Jean. I appreciate your blog. Thanks
Linda
A lovely reminder of the strength of art in these times! :)
Oh, yes, I hope it will be translated soon...nice picture of Orhan!
I love the copy of that Turkish edition of My Name is Read--that's the one I have--and I love the excerpt from this. Many thanks!
er, My Name is Red! a freudian slip of the keyboard....
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