yesterday was hemingway’s birthday. i’ve never encountered a writer i think i would have liked less in person, whose writing has held me so spellbound. i mention this as an acknowledgement that he might well have seen in these graceful wildflower stems the arcing paths of antiaircraft flak shells somewhere over spain. and he would have had me interested. the bastard.
unidentified wildflower stems
rice creek trail, saint paul, minnesota
Like many other intellectuals of the time as George Orwell or André Malraux, Hemingway also pledged with the legitimate Government of the Republic, that and like it. But it was a lover of the “fiesta de los toros” and that I do not like anything.
I think he was a lousy writer.