Still processing a busy weekend soaking up the amazing cultural opportunities that London has to offer. I saw inspiring talks at Stoke Newington Literary Festival from Caitlin Moran, Suzanne Moore, Elif Shafak and a reading from the elusive Gentle Author from Spitalfields Life. I also took in Werner Herzog’s Aguirre, Wrath of God at the BFI, a bewildering and mesmerising film set mainly on a raft floating down the Amazon in Peru. I can only imagine how mad that film set must have been.
Lots to muse on, but have been thinking a lot about Elif Shafak’s discussion on names, and how as an immigrant, one of things you lose first is your name; whether this is through mispronunciation, how it sounds in a different accent, the letters that spell it not even existing in the new countries language, e.g. Ö, and then also looking at all the different names and nicknames you acquire in life and how that shapes your identity, all very fascinating.