A writer friend of mine told me that a few weeks ago he had had to exclude the most gifted of his students, a young man from Swabia or Baden or Württemberg – neither he nor I can really tell these regions apart – with the significant name of Stefan Hegel, from the course for young writers he had been invited to give by a foundation with connections to a large corporation, because this Hegel kept on interrupting the readings of the texts under discussion, sometimes raising objections at every third or fourth sentence, shouting out, standing up or bursting into tears of horror, disgust or despair.

Esse é provavelmente o melhor texto à Borges desde It's a Good Life If You Don't Weaken.