It's been quite some time since I've taught anything by Federico Garcia Lorca. Am now well into Act 1 of The House of Bernarda Alba, a play which in the ordinary run of things doesn't do all that much for me. Yet this time round it's all electricity. The power!
The thing is, though, that I can't go for more than twenty minutes without thinking of the murder of the great poet, great dramatist, great man. And when I remember I get angry. And deeply, deeply sad. Somehow he has come to represent all the desaparecidos for me, from another time, another dark place.
No comments:
Post a Comment