Today I would like to mention Jose Saramago, who died on June 18th, 2010.
I would like to mention Jorge Luis Borges who also died in June, in 1986.
And I would like to mention Fernando Pessoa who died in November 1935, at the age of 47.
These three are role models for living and writing about the absurdities of a life; reaching some sort of escape velocity from convention within the boundaries of solitude; not being ashamed of their pessimism and flights from so-called reality. Fabulist writers, all three.
“Then Bioy-Casares recalled that one of the heresiarchs of Uqbar had stated that mirrors and copulation are abominable, since they both multiply the numbers of man.” from Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius, Jorge Luis Borges
“ torn between the hope of living forever and the fear of never dying” from Death with Interruptions, Jose Saramago
“Today Death, tarrying longer than ever, came to sell at my doorstep. Slower than ever, she unfolded before me the rugs, silks and linens of her oblivion and her consolation. She smiled with satisfaction at the things she showed, without caring that I saw her smile. But as soon as I felt tempted to buy them, she said they weren’t for sale. ” From Notes for The Book of Disquiet, Fernando Pessoa