That portion of Philology that still stays with me, that knows of writers, philosophers and the names of scholars, is jumping for joy over the Ortega y Gasset Prize for journalism that I been have given. This blogger, for her part, feels that so many obstacles to access the Internet, so much flash memory taken from here to there, has been worth the pain.
I only remember it was April – Eliot had already drawn our attention to the cruelty of Spring – and I decided to exorcise my demons through a Blog. I began to expel the most paralyzing things, those things that make the mask, disguise and silence so appealing. The second in the line of things to be expelled was the apathy of someone who knows not much can be done. By the middle of August, the legion of woes formed from frustration, disenchantment and doubts was already draining away with each post.
What seemed like personal therapy, to rid myself of all the aches and pains, has become a space for many who, curious coincidence, also had their own demons.
Readers, I am only the face in the sidebar of the site. You, controversial, incendiary, censors and boycotters, are, at the end of the day, those who make the Blog.