You can never really know a country.
You can get to know more of it and more it, but you’ll never really know it.
Just those bits of it it allows you to see.
(This has political connotations).
+++
18.9.10
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Labels
- "microcine goes" (1)
- "teatro de verano" (1)
- "way of the morris" (1)
- 1927 (1)
- adderbury (1)
- aesthetics (1)
- and all the rest (21)
- art (27)
- brexit (2)
- cervantes (1)
- chile (1)
- cinema (6)
- crusoe (1)
- defoe (1)
- dreams (22)
- dublin (1)
- england (4)
- ethics (16)
- europe (1)
- foucault (1)
- ginzburg (1)
- goes (1)
- ireland (1)
- lima (1)
- literature (1)
- london (5)
- love (34)
- mariátegui (1)
- mexico (1)
- montevideo (22)
- morrissey (1)
- mortality (1)
- patagonia (1)
- plester (1)
- poesía (2)
- poetry (27)
- politics (14)
- pubs (2)
- punta arenas (1)
- quotations (11)
- relationships (47)
- renaissance (2)
- rilke (2)
- salome (1)
- sean o'casey (1)
- self-evident truths (21)
- shakespeare (1)
- society (35)
- stories (25)
- the plough and the stars (1)
- the self (61)
- theatre (2)
- tierra del fuego (1)
- travel (44)
- uk (6)
- uruguay (1)
No comments:
Post a Comment