In the desert the most loved waters, like a lover's name, are carried blue in your hands, enter your throat. One swallows absence.
Michael OndaatjeHe will hear the rain before he feels it, a clicking on the dry grass, on the olive leaves.
Michael OndaatjeHere. Where I am anonymous and alone in a white room with no history and no parading. So I can make something unknown in the shape of this room. Where I am King of Corners.
Michael OndaatjeResearch can be a big clunker. It's difficult to know how you can make the historical light.
Michael Ondaatje