Sustenance.

There’s something I love about idealistic characters.

Although in the novel Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes, Don Quixote’s idealism is often at his own expense, and is constantly trying to be curbed by his companions, it is my favourite part about his character. I often excuse literary characters their extreme idealism because I admire the ability to hold on to such a child-like characteristic. That’s not to say that idealism is exclusivly in the realm of children, just that many once idealistic souls lose that characteristic as they age. I’ve read the first part of Don Quixote once, and I know it wasn’t enough in order to detail the plot and themes to a degree that would do the novel justice – though even going through it once I know that given the time it could easily become a personal favourite. There is a line, fairly early in this novel, that I often think on and quite simply, it is a line I love;

 “Don Quixote did not wish to eat breakfast because, as has been stated, he meant to live on sweet memories.”

It must be stated that going hand in hand with Quixote’s idealism is his imagination, which muddles what is real and what isn’t, confusing the two at the worst possible times. But this is perfect. At one level surviving off of memories is akin to suicide  – memories are not tangible, you cannot eat them to survive. But they are sustenance, if of a very different kind. And the confusion here is so beautiful, so idealistic, that often thinking of this sentence I too wish I could replace one form of sustenance with the other. The suggestion is that memories, sweet memories, are just as important as food, and in Don Quixote’s case, more important. Although Don Quixote is often made to look ridiculous he also pulls at my own heartstrings, for although he has imagined it all, his life is full. Only through the confusion, or merging of fiction and reality can we live off of our memories and fight windmills with valour (thinking them, of course, to be giants).  

Sketch by Picasso.