Text de creació

Once, in Valparaiso, I thought I had discovered the key to Sebald’s writing in a book by him I had borrowed. Over the years, I forgot the title and the sentence. Now that I am borrowing, at random, another book by him, I wonder what those few lines were: lines that seemed so crucial to me ten years ago.

Writers are often asked how they write: where, what with. I don’t know if Sebald ever answered, but if I had to imagine his reply I would say that he wrote inside a chamber of silence.