I like to see the people arriving. I like to imagine their lives. It keeps me from thinking too much about my own. A man shouldn't be too introspective. It weakens him. That is the difference between...
I came to this city to escape.
When Jordan was a baby he sat on top of me much as a fly rests on a hill of dung. And I nourished him as a hill of dung nourishes a fly, and when he had eaten his fill he left me.Jordan...I should hav...
When I see a word held hostage to manhood I have to rescue it. Sweet trembling word, locked in a tower, tired of your Prince coming and coming.
She was a monster, but she was my monster.
Quello che cerchi è il significato: una vita che abbia un signficato. C'è l'hap, il fato, la giocata che è tua e non è prefissata, ma cambiare il corso del fiume, o dare nuove carte, qualunque sia la...
In the space between chaos and shape there was another chance.
Everyone who tells a story tells it differently, just to remind us that everybody sees it differently.
As your lover describes you, so you are.
Truth for anyone is a very complex thing. For a writer, what you leave out says as much as those things you include. What lies beyond the margin of the text? The photographer frames the shot; writers...
Running away from uncertainty and confusion but most of all running away from myself. I thought I might become someone else in time, grafted on to something better and stronger. And then I saw that th...
Perché la perdita si misura con l'amore?
Every journey conceals another journey within its lines: the path not taken and the forgotten angle.
Freud, one of the grand masters of narrative, knew that the past is not fixed in the way that linear time suggests. We can return. We can pick up what we dropped. We can mend what others broke. We can...
If the universe is movement, it will not be in one direction only. We think of our lives as linear but it is the spin of the earth that allows us to observe time. Walk with me.
I won't eat what I can't kill. It seems shoddy, hypocritical.
Memory loss is one way of coping with damage.
Look at all that rubbish, she said, watching the electric van slowly whirr from bin to bin, little men in gloves removing it all.They're taking it away, I said. Where to? she said. It just gets moved...
Language always betrays us, tells the truth when we want to lie, and dissolves into formlessness when we would most like to be precise.
…when the dying sun bled the blue sky orange.