Letters and the Craft of Living
Is life a craft or a simple passage of time? If living is the art of inhabiting time, then life is, above all, a disciplined path. It is not very different from the practice of writing; both demand absolute dedication and unavoidable responsibility, first to oneself and, by extension, to those who read us or live with us. Writing is not filling pages; it is an act of honesty where the author offers himself as a testimony of his own passage through the world. Yesterday, the Bogotá International Book Fair concluded. The corridors were a pilgrimage of people who, like ants, moved between pavilions. I repeatedly asked myself: Why are they here? Is it the pleasure of social gathering, the curiosity to see the fashionable writer, or a real hunger for narrative and poetry? It is hopeful to see the children's literature stands, those wonderful spaces where wonder still survives. However, for the writer who understands their craft as an apostolate, the doubt arises: is the dedication worth it in a world of immediate consumption? It is then that recognitions appear as a megaphone that allows the work to reach more readers. In a craft that dates back to before Christ, the contemporary author seems trapped at a crossroads.
