In universities, some three thousand years, around the shady trees will take courses that explain how a story should be written: vintage men of the guys but still subtly brilliant dissect the techniques necessary to ensure that the interaction between Achilles Hector and intrigues the reader in the story involving maidens, traitors and sacrifices in order to assemble the right number of pages, or bets.
fear of not being able to say any more scientifically accurate or topic. Like you, I do not know what makes a really beautiful story.
The stories are really beautiful in my eyes smoky forms, they wander among the palm trees moved by obscure motives. Require rhythmic and regular sacrifices in front of a keyboard, without explanation or certainty about the happy ending.
Often the stories betray, as lovers hidden capable of idioms, in ballet pulling some magic in place of any satisfactory logical sequence. Often adjusting to dictate some barbarian on the budget, producing dull chapters filled with dentists and wells of polystyrene.
Perhaps in a parallel universe there is no such disappointments: there maybe a Scottish roams far and wide causing only happiness and quantum collapses, but there is no need to shake the galaxy to create memorable stories.
takes the duelists in front of an empty chair, a cartridge that slips on the record because of an unexpected visit, a wall filled with graffiti that appear only in the dark, an impostor priest full of faith, placed in front of a huge question mark.
takes a doctor, a con man, a fugitive, a millionaire, a paraplegic, a torturer, a troubled couple.
See ya in Another Life, brothas.
