There is a poet in Oxford, Mississippi, who passes the living ghost of Faulkner on her way to the classroom where she teaches, the bedroom where she writes, the park where she pushes her daughter and son on swings. She notices everything.
"We have learned a lot from listening and talking to artists. They see things differently. Their work is what's going on. They may not be able to predict the future, but they make statements that say where it's going, and it often does."
