Now that Sant Jordi is approaching and booksellers, readers, writers, publishers, and cultural journalists are throwing themselves into it with energy and a touch of anxiety, I would like to share, from this corner, some reflections on the act of writing that May Sarton left us in her Diary of a Solitude(Amsterdam Llibres, translated by Núria Parés).

They write to me, politely, inviting me to a special program on March 8th as a woman writer. "You'll be sharing the table with many powerful women writers like yourself," they tell me, because "powerful" is a term that goes with everything. To be powerful? How frightening. I feel powerless.