“There's still too much energy leftover at this tomb-desk, on Broadway, when I am semi-asleep at night in our bedroom, struggling to get a good night's rest. There's an overflow of loin energy. It spills out from my pores as if I were a cracked drum of reacting chemicals. I need to work to expend this excess energy in words, stories and books....My mind is a body that's a mind.” WritingCreativityWriters On WritingWriting ProcessCreative WritingWriters LifeWriting PhilosophyWriters On ThinkingSergio Troncoso Book:Crossing Borders: Personal Essays Source: Crossing Borders: Personal Essays
“Words are the residue that I was there, that I loved my wife, that I kissed my children goodnight, that I sacrificed my life for them. Words are a curse. Life is a curse. Words escape life. Life escapes words. What in God's name am I? How does someone name a God? What is it to name yourself?” WritingLiteratureCreativityWritersCreative ProcessWriters On WritingWriting LifeCreative WritingWriters And WritingWriters LifeWriting PhilosophyWriters On ThinkingSergio Troncoso Book:Crossing Borders: Personal Essays Source: Crossing Borders: Personal Essays
“I am in between. Trying to write to be understood by those who matter to me, yet also trying to push my mind with ideas beyond the everyday. It is another borderland I inhabit. Not quite here nor there. On good days I feel I am a bridge. On bad days I just feel alone.” FeelsWritingTryingMindIdeasMatterUnderstoodEverydayBridgesGood DayBad DayThose Who Matter Author:Sergio Troncoso
