Sublime

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“Where we are from,” he said, “stories are factual. If a farmer is declared a music virtuoso by the state, everyone had better start calling him maestro. And secretly, he’d be wise to start practicing the piano. For us, the story is more important than the person. If a man and his story are in conflict, it is the man who must change.”

‘And I was an outsider. Which is fucked up, when you think about it. They were the outsiders, not me. What’s two hundred fucking years to more than sixty thousand?’

“The Dear Leader said I was going to act for the world. You know he gave me this name. In English, Sun means hae and Moon means dal, so I’d be night and day, light and dark, celestial body and its eternal satellite. The Dear Leader said that would make me mysterious to American audiences, that the intense symbolism would speak to them.”

«Continuo a non morire» La mia amica Ruth Zylberman mi manda due brevi lettere scritte da un bambino di otto anni alla nonna durante le purghe del 1936 in Unione Sovietica. Ecco la prima: «Cara babuška, non sono ancora morto. Sei la sola persona che mi resta al mondo e io sono la sola che resta a te. Se non muoio, quando sarò grande e tu sarai molt

I learned the hallmarks of abusers when I was nine. Because of severe asthma and allergies, I also learned early on that even the best-intentioned doctors embark on treatment plans that can be uncomfortable. But it would be years before I realized how cleverly patterns of abuse could masquerade as sincerity, or how kindly they might be packaged.

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