Let me ask you a question. You say that you love deception, right? Costumes, forging your father's signature, affecting fever to avoid responsibility. So why should we believe anything you say about your life? How are we to know that you are not lying about everything...oh, wait. I get it. Maybe that's the point. Damn it. You are a step ahead of me again. Well, now I feel foolish. But I did want to tell you that I love that moment when your father has you imitate a violinist and mime his performance. Engelbert was really onto something. Was that true? Now I am confused.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Thomas Mann | Confessions of Felix Krull | 1954