Chattin' with the Nina.

Our little convo with Nina piqued(At this point in typing my blog, I was confused about the structure of the phrase "piqued my interest," as I was unsure which spelling to use. When I looked up the word "pique" I got a bunch of things, including a type of fabric-weave and the act of being offended. I didn't want anybody to think that Nina Scott offended me or that she did any kind of weaving to my benefit, however, I eventually decided that "piqued" was the correct form.) my interest in the process of translation, especially the not getting any credit part. It's pretty crazy to think about all the books that were not written in English, and how people just sat down and cranked out translation just for the good of the world. You gotta appreciate that in a person. Then, though, thinking about all those books that have been translated, I started thinking about all the books that were not translated. Books or letters or philosophies or anything that was lost or hidden or burned or destroyed for any reason. It's a real shame. That's a real crime, and thank goodness for computers and the internet for being able to Log indefinitely all these works of the pen. Or the keyboard. Or the hammer and chisel. I hope that society's infrastructure is capable of retaining all this glorious information for posterity. There are some more cents.