Orfeo

La casa es vieja, medio oscura, caída y es claro que ahí está la bestia, que no sé todavía si es un lobo o un zorro. Yo estoy en la casa de al lado y sé que algo malo pasa en esa casa y no sé bien cómo atacar al lobo-zorro, que es claramente el que causa el mal. La escena cambia y ahora estoy adentro de esa casa. Algo no me gusta -quiero decir, no sólo me asusta sino que no me gusta- y me voy. La escena sigue adentro de esa casa y se sabe que yo ya no estoy. Yo soy otro animal, parece que más pequeño que el lobo-zorro, pero no lo tengo claro. Desde la puerta de la casa vecina puedo ver cómo el lobo-zorro sale y me busca para atacarme. Por primera vez en mi vida adulta, me despierto de un grito.

"His big head"

"Two men asleep beside each other on a long journey into Africa, literally and thankfully above the thunderclouds. One is fairly clean shaven, papers strewn around him. Matte black suit, eyes slightly hollowed from no sleep, thoughts too big even for his big head. The other is a more bohemian mess. Unshaven, unkempt, he can't just have been up for days, his boyish face says years. An advertisement for why air miles can be bad for your health. When he wakes, an air hostess asks for his autograph. Confused and amused, he points to the geek in the black suit lying among the papers. That's me. Let me introduce myself. My name is Bono and I am the rock star student. The man with me is Jeffrey D. Sachs, the great economist, and for a few years now my professor. In time, his autograph will be worth a lot more than mine."

From the foreword to The End of poverty

Although I think it would actually be cooler to meet Bono, the picture is of (cool enough) Sachs and his "big head" as Bono calls it, and his autograph is in one of the first pages of my copy of The End of Poverty.