I discovered during my prep Virginia Woolf being English and I confess that I immediately liked. I did not study at the time Mrs Dalloway, his great work, but work a little less known that was perhaps even more difficult, especially during the English literature: The Waves. 8 years later, I wanted to plunge in "this" Virginia Woolf some exceptional ideas similar to those of my mentor in literature, Kafka especially when she writes: "I feel it in my fingers the weight of each word." . The éthrique style Woolf Match me better than Kafka (my favorite author, a genius); his imagination does not refuse the metaphor, but nourishes the contrary voices, movements and loud murmurs. I like this violent interiority, the depth of each word weighed and tested, this way of confronting itself, systematically, through characters that seem to be only facets of a single person: Virginia. This alternation of powerful feelings, reflections on the meaning of life with descriptions of nature in this its most simple and pure, is enjoyable, especially for the small reader that I am and loves to moderately books history. Everything seems seemingly disjointed when one confronts a story without real characters, no real story and yet everything is interwoven only son, magical, sensory, urgent, purified, which join and weave life with its stream and its reflux. Writing is thus both the place where the real rate is, but also the special place that reveals the dimension of the real as impossible ... "The waves breaking on the shore [...] I hope I have and selected the song of the sea and birds, dawn and garden, subconsciously present, fulfilling their underground work ... It could be islands of light, islands in the stream that I try to represent, life itself flowing ". Look life in the face and still recognize it for what it is, and finally the love for what it is and then give it up for what it is ... Forever these years together and still hours. ..
