In class, I'm the Cat in the Hat. At home, I'm the fish.
Tonight I finished listening to Speak, Memory on the walk home. In the audio version, the foreword's at the end. In it, Nabokov talks about all the versions of the work: an Englishing of a Russian rewriting of an English composition of Russian memories. Why do different versions of the same thing so enthrall me?
Because you can describe the disorder. All day I want to write.