Time for a change of direction. This blog used to be concerned with writing about Spain in the twentieth century. But I found that I kept wanting to write beyond these boundaries – so blog posts would remain in my head and never reach the screen. It’s time to broaden my horizons.
So here I hope to release the overflow from my novels, discuss sex, love, and life from an academic or banal perspective – depending on my mood – but also discuss what I feel like when I feel like it. It’s the unofficial blog for Poble Sec Books.
The secret of these hills was stone, and cottages
Of that stone made,
And crumbling roads
That turned on sudden hidden villages
Now over these small hills, they have built the concrete
That trails black wire
Pylons, those pillars
Bare like nude giant girls that have no secret.
The valley with its gilt and evening look
And the green chestnut
Of customary root,
Are mocked dry like the parched bed of a brook.
But far above and far as sight endures
Like whips of anger
With lightning’s danger
There runs the quick perspective of the future.
This dwarfs our emerald country by its trek
So tall with prophecy
Dreaming of cities
Where often clouds shall lean their swan-white neck.
Stephen Spender, 1933.