I have the feeling that everything that surrounds me is literature.  Literature is in love.  Literature is in the way I get along with the people I love.  Literature is in every single day that passes by.   John Lennon said that all we needed was love.  I keep telling myself that Literature is all we need.  The other day, a student asked me what my favorite language when reading was.  I have come to the conclusion that I like to read in English, because of all the reading groups I am in, none of them is either Spanish or Portuguese speaking.  That might mean that people here in Brazil are not that interested in discussing “globally” the things they read, or the authors they like.  I’ve tried to be in book clubs in Brazil, but I found they weren’t as committed or interested as I was, or maybe they had more interesting things to do with their lives.  Well…just wandering in the paths of my life…

Last book I read…In the Ravine, by the great Anton Chekhov.  A true instrospection    in the fields of human nature…Love, hatred, jealousy, resentment, compassion…sociological tensions that reside in today’s world and Chekhov lived in the 1900’s.

“Of course no one will consider,” said Anisim, and he heaved a sigh. “There is no God, anyway, you know, mamma, so what considering can there be?”
Varvara looked at him with surprise, burst out laughing, and clasped her hands. Perhaps because she was so genuinely surprised at his words and looked at him as though he were a queer person, he was confused.
“Perhaps there is a God, only there is no faith. When I was being married I was not myself. Just as you may take an egg from under a hen and there is a chicken chirping in it, so my conscience was beginning to chirp in me, and while I was being married I thought all the time there was a God! But when I left the church it was nothing. And indeed, how can I tell whether there is a God or not? We are not taught right from childhood, and while the babe is still at his mother’s breast he is only taught ‘every man to his own job.’ Father does not believe in God, either. You were saying that Guntorev had some sheep stolen…. I have found them; it was a peasant at Shikalovo stole them; he stole them, but father’s got the fleeces … so that’s all his faith amounts to.”

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