I would have to confess that I became a Santana freak because a few years ago...– Leonardo’s Bicycle, by Paco Ignacio Taibo II, translated by Martin Michael Roberts
a fervent admirer of miracles of will
You have to be overindulgent to think that a metaphor is something direct. An arrow homing in on a target painted in black on the wall. It is not. It is dangerous, double-edged material. It is an ambiguous resource. It is the writer who creates it, but it is the reader who reinterprets it, adapting it to his own very particular aches and pains. You do not even own the ribbon in the printer you...