Hergé's correspondence went under the hammer last Friday. The letters were sold for 112,000 euros- ten times what they were expected to fetch. The letters chart his creative highs and lows:"And right now, my work makes me sick. Tintin is no longer me. And I must make a terrible effort to invent [him]... If Tintin continues to live, it is through a sort of artificial respiration that I must constantly keep up and which is exhausting me."Full article here.
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