Concrete

As a writer, I am sympathetic with the narrator's struggle to begin his book on Mendelssohn, waiting for the perfect opening sentence to occur to him and waiting for the time to be right. Maybe I need to relocate to Palma, but then I might get caught up in someone else's tragedy and never write another word. It's a bit of a struggle to read this book–one long paragraph–but because of its stream of consciousness, that hardly matters. Just keep reading.