The Wall

I hit a wall today: in my enthusiasm for what could very well be a new novel, I asked the Webster's powers for access to old archives: photos, articles, etc. I expected a bit of resistance, this being the Webster, house of secrets, but didn't expect to be rejected flat out. The reasons were murky at best, something about not being anxious in this context to..., and I don't see how... Ah, Webster. You do have a rather weird taste for secrets, silences and unfinished sentences...

In a way, maybe it's better. Something tells me that, had they provided me with research material, they may have wanted to control what I was writing (yep, writing about an apartment building in New York is apparently more difficult than writing about, say, the Pentagon). By refusing me access, they have basically freed me. (This, I repeat, as I frantically search for other ways to access pictures)