To My Mind, Guernica Is The Most

If I Had To Summarize, Most Broadly, My Concerns As A Writer, I'd Say The Question 'how Then Must We Live?' Is At The Heart Of It, For Me.

When You Are The Woman Upstairs, Nobody Thinks Of You First. Nobody Calls You Before Anyone Else, Or Sends You The First Postcard. Once Your Mother Dies, Nobody Loves You “best Of All.” It's A Small Thing, You Might Think, And Maybe It Depends On Your Temperament, Maybe For Some People It's A Small Thing, But For Me [...]

And Then, Into The Fantasy, As Into A Dream, Would Come The Thought: It's Not Like This Anymore; The World Has Changed. Just The Way, Even At That Time Fully Two Years After My Mother's Death, I'd Catch Myself Thinking About Her As Alive; And Would Suddenly Remember, An Admonitory Finger Of Grief Upon My Breast, That She Was Gone.

But We're Lost In A World Of Appearances Now.

I Believe That, In An Ideal World, Writers Would Feel Free To Write What Matters To Them Without Having To Consider Success, Failure, The Market, Etc.