Reflections

“My own belief is that one regards oneself, if one is a serious writer, as an instrument for experiencing. Life—all of it—flows through this instrument and is distilled through it into works of art. How one lives as a private person is intimately bound into the work. And at some point, I believe one has to stop holding back for fear of alienating some imaginary reader or real relative or friend, and come out with personal truth. If we are to understand the human condition, and if we are to accept ourselves in all the complexity, self-doubt, extravagance of feeling,

Earlier this summer I watched the film “Children of Men” with Clive Owens and Michael Caine.  It is largely a bleak window into a future world where no children have been born for 18 years and everything is largely in chaos.  A young black woman becomes pregnant and there is a race to protect and save her.  For me, the whole movie was worth this one scene near the end where she walks down the stairs of a ramshackle building carrying her newborn infant.  There is a war raging around them as people try and take cover inside the building