18 janeiro 2011

Por que os escritores escrevem?

Encontrei uma resposta realmente exótica:

 (...) In winter we had cocoa after the show and in the summer orange crush or lemonade. Winter and summer the cakes were always the same.  They were made by Lucille, the cook we had in those days, and I have never tasted cakes as good as those cakes we used to have. The secret of their goodness lay, I believe, in the fact that they were always cakes that failed. They were chocolate raisin cupcakes that did not rise, so that there was no proper cupcake cap — the cakes were dank, flat and dense with raisins. The charm of those cakes was altogether accidental.
Carson McCullers, How I begin to write, September 1948

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