Imagination is the spark and flame of energy propelling a work into pronounced aesthetic and spiritual life. It's a rare literary aptitude. Hardly anything has that dark and wondrous current running through it. So many novels, stories, and poems -- they are so boring and so self-important that your reading brain becomes an entropic mass of congealed literary disappointment.
Bruno Schulz wrote a thing that is almost beyond belief --
The Street of Crocodiles.
As you read it, you enter the infinity of imagination, the realm of aesthetic wonder. This book is one of the marvels of literature.
A large part of me has been shanghaied or absconded into that partly real, partly fantastic Polish town of Drohobych.
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