I uploaded a blogpost a few days ago. It’s a poem I wrote, months ago by now, about Van Gogh painting Starry Night. I see him, painting the beautiful sky he wishes he could see. Granted, I’m hardly in a position where I can consolidate Mr. Van Gogh’s intentions or thought processes, but as a writer I’m in exactly the right position to imagine as much, even project a little of myself into the painter, much like Lee Israel, who wrote countless (well, actually someone counted: 400) forged letters, using her skills as a writer to project a believable and relevant version of the person whom she sought to replicate. Somehow, I could see him clearly.
Sabrina Parra Díaz 