
…, but he inhabits a tiny world. In it, we should be suffocated. My own eyes are not enough for me. …in reading great literature I become a thousand men and yet remain myself. Like the night sky in the Greek poem, I see with a myriad of eyes, but it is still I who see. Here…
But who I am today is not just the sum of moments in “real life.” Who I am is just as much about the books I read in those lazy, schoolyard afternoons and those wonderful stories, shards of living culture, gifted to me by parents, teachers and friends.