Novels

Ever since I told my friend that novels are just not the right format for our age, I've been thinking of starting one myself. I guess that's a typical human behaviour: search your strenght in the weakness of others.
Anyway, I am happy to say that I will definitely meet my friend this week, so he can interview me to get some ideas for a character of his novel. I hope I make up for my rude behaviour of our last meeting.
On the other side of the river, I am also happy to say that after a weekend of quite a lot of pessimism, my soul seems to have found the way out of self-imposed darkness. Like I read yesterday on this book that my sister gave me for my birthday (The Cold Skin by catalan writer Albert S´nchez Piñol, English translation not yet available, although it says so in the book cover) "there are the men who choose to live, and there are the men who choose to die". The book starts like this: (free English version brought to you by The Fruitman Translation Services & Co.)
"We are never infinitely far from those we hate. Therefore, for the same reason we could say that we will never be absolutely close to those we love. When I sailed to that island, I already knew that cruel truth. But there are truths that deserve our attention, and there are others that we choose to ignore."
I think that's an amazing start for a book.