Archivos por etiqueta: Paul Auster

How I Became a Writer

Paul Auster: How I Became a Writer from Louisiana Channel on Vimeo.

One day there is life…

One day there is life. A man, for example, in the best of health, not even old, with no history of illness. Everything is as it was, as it will always be. He goes from one day to the next, minding his own business, dreaming only of the life that lies before him. And then, […]

Changing your mind

I think if we didn’t contradict ourselves, it would be awfully boring. It would be tedious to be alive. Changing your mind is probably one of the most beautiful things people can do. And I’ve changed my mind about a lot of things over the years. Más aquí.

Your birthday has come and gone

Your birthday has come and gone. Sixty-four years old now, inching ever close to senior citizenship, to the days of Medicare and Social Security benefits, to a time when more and more of your friends will have left you. So many of them are gone already-but just wait for the deluge that is coming. Much […]


There is a small minority, for example, that believes that bad weather comes from bad thoughts. This is a rather mystical approach to the question, for it implies that thoughts can be translated directly into events in the physical world. According to them, when you think a dark or pessimistic thought, it produces a cloud […]

The Assassination Club

The Euthanasia Clinics are not the only way to buy your own death, however. There are the Assassination Clubs as well, and these have been growing in popularity. A person who wants to die, but is too afraid to go through with it himself, joins the Assassination Club in his census zone for a relatively […]

The language of ghosts.

So many of us have become like children again. It’s not that we make an effort, you understand, or that anyone is really conscious of it. But when hope disappears, when you find that you have given up hoping for the possibility of hope, you tend to fill the empty spaces with dreams, little childlike […]

In Memory of Myself

Simply to have stopped. As if I could begin where my voice has stopped, myself the sound of a word I cannot speak to be brought to life in this pensive flesh, the beating drum of words within, so many words lost in the wide world within me, and thereby to have known that in […]


(…) and to the best of his knowledge he has no ambitions. No burning ambitions, in any case, no clear idea if what building a plausible future might entail for him. (…) it is this ability to live in the present, to confine himself to the there and now, and although it might not be […]