What can I possibly say about To Kill A Mocking Bird that hasn't been said?
I took the book in my youth, before being in the year where it would be mandatory reading in English class, and it coloured my world in such a way that it still affects me.
A ''school'' where I had gone to study at later on, that I'm so very fond of ►
(for personal reasons, they kept my enrolment open - for five years when I lost someone, during the commencement of exams. The compassion, and subsequent camaraderie at a time of grief, from faculty members and the ''school'' - (when a school of such excellence acts this way, it touches one's soul even more) - uplifted me when I was down..)
► posted the following, on social media.
A ''school'' where I had gone to study at later on, that I'm so very fond of ►
(for personal reasons, they kept my enrolment open - for five years when I lost someone, during the commencement of exams. The compassion, and subsequent camaraderie at a time of grief, from faculty members and the ''school'' - (when a school of such excellence acts this way, it touches one's soul even more) - uplifted me when I was down..)
► posted the following, on social media.
Harper Lee, who won the Pulitzer Prize for fiction for "To Kill a Mockingbird," has died at the age of 89 - just a few...
Publicado por McMaster University em Sexta-feira, 19 de Fevereiro de 2016
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Where do I begin with respect to Umberto Eco?
Perhaps with the first book of his that I read (actually the term ''read'' is inadequate, ''devoured'' is more in keeping with what happened) - Foucault's Pendulum, is somewhere to start.
After that, my ''romance'' with his writing, began.
He, in so many fields, opened up my world and kept it's doors gaping - more and more each time I visited his written or spoken thoughts.
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How does one thank people, such as these, for what they gave us?
I feel that sudden unshakable, inextricable need to soothe my heart with extremely beautiful things:
Monet's sunrises and sunsets, images from Pessoa's and Hesse's worlds - of others as well - as the two that have gone, baby elephants playing in pools, children giggling, a number of musicians and composers that I love and cherish as they play (or have their things played).., more painters and their imageries, the warm gaze of those dear to us, the soft touch of my dog's nose upon mine - whilst he stares into my soul, measuring all my aches and pains, like a parent (inverting the relationship somewhat).., the hue and temperature of light as it falls upon things and myself.
I imagine them taking (Harper Lee and Eco) a seat at a table with two other recent arrivals (Boulez and Motian) to have some fun playing ''Bluff'' (''Liar's Dice'') while Mr. Jones (Bowie) taunt's them on - ''à la Miles''
to make things juicier; Botticelli-like faces,
the table lit by a Carravagio type of light, on a balcony designed by Gaudi, drinks served by Marx (Groucho Marx), and the music...... (goodness gracious, don't get me started..).
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All I have more to say (in a prayer) is - may our beloved ones live a long and healthy life, with joy, and heart to help them endure the troubles of the world, the same for our cherished authors - those that are not already included in the first group (be they in whatever field they may be).
Thank you, Nelle Harper Lee.
Thank you, Umberto Eco.
Bless you.
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| ''Galinhola'' - ink on paper, (1930s), by José Maria Ribeiro da Costa |
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