Singularity has no meaning if the artist is aware of it. And, perhaps its limitations too. This is a brilliant piece, and I've suffered from the place of various selves and as if it were the death of art when you watch an Amitav Ghosh with a single-minded vision, yet with the ability to tell all-encompassing tales of migration, loss of habitat or home...
One arrives at singularity. Your writing on provincial life and your moorings in urban settings perhaps have contradictions. But those variations bring subjectivity and unity in seeking our own truths and clashing selves. And so, the romance novel comes into picture, I suppose, in buoyance. :)
I am large. I contradict myself. I contain multitudes
Singularity has no meaning if the artist is aware of it. And, perhaps its limitations too. This is a brilliant piece, and I've suffered from the place of various selves and as if it were the death of art when you watch an Amitav Ghosh with a single-minded vision, yet with the ability to tell all-encompassing tales of migration, loss of habitat or home...
One arrives at singularity. Your writing on provincial life and your moorings in urban settings perhaps have contradictions. But those variations bring subjectivity and unity in seeking our own truths and clashing selves. And so, the romance novel comes into picture, I suppose, in buoyance. :)