The Idiot

by Elif Batuman

Even though I had a deep conviction that I was good at writing, and that in some way I already was a writer, this conviction was completely independent of my having ever written anything, or being able to imagine ever writing anything, that I thought anyone would like to read.

“Don’t worry.” Robin patted my arm. “We’re in the world’s most beautiful city. You’ll forget all about him.” Svetlana rolled her eyes. “Robin, you’re the only person in the world who would have such a ridiculous idea, that beauty makes you forget about love.”