Don Quixote was published something like 400 years ago in archaic Spanish that I can only understand by looking up every other word in the Royal Academy‘s online dictionary. And yet, I find that the delusional knight is part of my daily thought and discourse. Yesterday a programmer in his blog compared his crazy project to tilting at windmills. Today someone called the development of open mobile phone software a quixotic quest. On my door is taped a copy of the lyrics of “The Impossible Dream“, which is from the musical adaptation of Don Quixote. I liken my dating escapades and debacles to the adventures of the ingenioso hidalgo. When I look at the uncontrolled explosion of books in my bedroom I wonder if I, too, live mostly in my imagination. I find it strange that a novel so seemingly irrelevant to my life would have this much of an impact upon me.
One response to “Quixotesque”
I’ve always wanted to read Don Quixote in Spanish, and I’m heartened to hear that you’re enjoying it. Maybe I really will get to it one of these days!
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