Cosmopolitanism has a bad name. People living across cultures and in several countries are accused of being hedonistic, disloyal, and superficial. I proudly accept all these accusations. And I appeal to the millions like me: people speaking many languages, familiar with many cultures, owing allegaince to nobody but their own ethical code. We are the future.
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Today is the second anniversary of my mother's death. I don't believe in commemorative dates. Memory has no calendar; it comes and goes as it wills. Like writing, memory is free; like writing, it stays with us, sometimes receding into the background and sometimes coming back at unexpected moments as a flash of illumination or a stab of longing. My mother's writing is alive today, somewhere in the world. And so is my memory of her.