One reads nonfiction to understand the world and fiction to shut down all possible explanations—because, at some point, nothing makes sense. Yet real literature gives a taste of what never made sense, turning living into not seeking answers but feeling the unbearable lightness of being. Sometimes, I feel the urge to unplug. To silence the marketing tricks, the shouting headlines, the capital letters of Black … Continue reading Rereading Cortázar’s Hopscotch: A Dance Between Chaos and Clarity