Abinash Elanggumar > Recent Status Updates

a bit adhd'd out right now T_T my mind is so distracted

art is backed up by the literary work itself. we can never understand our raw feelings, yet landscapes and objects and words and sounds can bridge the gap — our soul is somehow connected to our world, or rather, the world becomes a part of our soul. massive props to the translation, the prose reads so beautifully ... if not for that, this book would fall flat on its face.

like he often says, i feel like i knew soares more deeply, that he seemed more real than real people in my life... yet like anyone else, i can't say i fully understand him either. what makes this challenging is to tame the reactionary inside of me and to just sit back and listen to another man speak his mind, but it was a very therapeutic and pleasant exercise ... the book's commentary on the nature of literature and

of his beliefs (and with research seemingly also that of pessoa, but it is what it is). i know fiction does this anyways, but i never felt so intimate, spent so long listening to, was so absorbed by the world of somebody who i keep forgetting doesn't 'exist' — a mere creation of pessoa's mind. it felt like the pinnacle of fiction and make-believe, that i was so lost in the mind of someone who didn't exist.

fell deeply in love with (his) prose as well ... felt inspired to write my own in the meantime, i have a greater appreciation for the beauty of language — a desire to transcribe my own wounded heart, and craft sentences that sound how i feel. 'bro tryna ignore it'- the anticommunism ... but i mean, soares is such a vividly realised character that everything followed and made sense to read, it's very much an extension

it doesn't normally take so long for me to finish a book ... it feels like i have spent an eternity in someone else's head, the author(s) have become a part of my complex, inner world. felt genuine grief as i approached the end of the second book, like a galaxy had just closed before me. soares's words especially evoked such a vast, expansive world — neatly contained in the fourth floor room of rua des douradores.