It seems like no-one really cares about poetry anymore.
It seems like something from a dead age of romanticism. Something flowery, something useless in this age of micro-communication. Tweets. Texts. Facebook statuses seem to be the limit of our communicative ability. Why read literature when we have E.L. James?
I would say pardon my cynicism, but I’m actually rather a fan of cynicism. This way, it’s a surprise when you see something beautiful, something of real art, something made of joyful truth. You get to shake off that cynicism, just for a moment. This was one of those times.
I was shown this video, ironically enough, through Facebook.
It is brilliantly written, brilliantly delivered, and creates a portrait of a man we would usually have difficulty seeing on our own. Do yourself a favour and watch.