I attended a funeral of a friend who was (is) a great writer. Good writers don't stop being one because of a minor cause like death. Dying is a circumstance that doesn't affect the literature, because literature, is really but dialogue with the dead.
Like most funerals his contained eulogies, but sincerely felt, and which ended with a text of his read out by an editor and close friend. It was an introduction posthumous of a log book of engagements, a clamour in favour of life and books.
In this final farewell there were the immediate family members, friends, reporters and also a solitary man, an anonymous stranger. I found him at the exit. We exchanged a brief nod and a sad smile and he said to me: ' I didn't know him at all, only his books. I came because I was his utterly devoted and ecstatic reader. It seemed to me I should be here today.'
A reader. A single reader, the world is born again.
Tags: onlyreader, fiction
Prev: 10th July 2011News Tip-Bits This Week
