Every time I read that someone has spoken badly of me, I begin to cry; I drag myself across the floor; I scratch myself; I stop writing indefinitely; I lose my appetite; I smoke less; I engage in sport; I go for walks on the edge of the sea—which, by the way, is less than 30 meters from my house—and I ask the seagulls, whose ancestors ate the fish who ate Ulysses: Why me? Why? I've done you no harm.
~ Roberto Bolaño
[Chicago Avenue at Damen Avenue]
