Nothing I write would be as it is if I weren’t writing it today, in this century, with a computer in front of me which, like an oracle, like a crystal ball, like a reflection in a pool, shows me everything I want to see and quenches my initial thirst with an answer, an image, a sound, a video, the momentary ability to be a bird, god, cloud, to – for a moment – seem understand, know what I don’t know, what I haven’t learnt, what I’ve forgotten, what I haven’t yet seen or experienced. And I realise that if I didn’t use digital methods, it would take me days, weeks to gather together all the information I want to know now, while I’m writing, to go to and from the library or bookshop, to meet certain people, to ask questions out loud, to see with my own eyes how cheese is made or how babies are born (even though, in any case, it would be good if I could do and see and ask all these things eventually). But that without any doubt, I write the way I do due to the possibility of accessing the boundless, instantaneous and jumbled information offered by the Internet.
Irene Solà. 'Bird, God, Cloud', in Offline, CCCB (2019).
About Irene Solà
Ricard Mirabete highlighted that Solà’s poetic voice is “heart-breaking, concise, sharp and lucid in its emotional and reflexive introspection which enables the construction of one’s own thoughts into poems”. Lluís Calvo wrote for Poetari Magazine that “Solà’s poetry carries us into an unexplored terrain, full of surprising and contrasted images, into a mixture that is half ironic half naïve, half violent half playful, making her poetry one of the most original proposals out of the new crop of poets”.
