At The Time Of Independence In 1975,

Society Had Grown Cruel. People Who Felt They Were Unwanted Or Unwelcome In Their Own Country, Reacted With Aggression. There Was No Such Thing As Meaningless Violence. Every Violent Act Had A Meaning For The Person Who Committed It. Only When You Dared Accept This Truth Could You Hope To Turn Society In Another Direction.

We Don't Have Time To Argue. Nobody Has Time.

An Oppressed People Will Always Rise.

Certainly, I Know What It's Like To Be Obsessed. I Haven't Always Been There For My Children. They Could Reach Me, But I Wasn't Always There. But, You Know, That's Not Necessarily Anything To Do With Being A Writer. I Mean, A Taxi Driver Could Have The Same Problem... Maybe.

Some People Give Theirselves A Certain Number Of White Weeks Once In A Year, When They Do Not Drink A Single Drop Of Alcohol. It Is Really Wise. I Myself Have A Few Weeks Per Year, Let Us Call Them White Or Black, When I Am Not Interested In The World Around. When I Come Back From This Isolation Of The News, I Realize That I Have Missed Nothing Significant. We Live In The Rain Of Disinformation And Rumors, Where The Truth Is A Very Small Number. In Those Weeks Of Dissociation I Seek For Knowledge That Lies Within Me.