Old Love, Middle Love, The Kind Of

This So Gnawed At Him On Some Nights That He Lay Awake Wondering Just How Many Unknown And Similarly Inconsequential Accidents And Bits Of Happenstance Were At This Moment Occurring Or Failing To Occur In Order To Ensure He Took His Next Breath, And The Next.

When Every Inch Of The World Is Known, Sleep May Be The Only Wilderness That We Have Left.

Of Course, English Is A Very Powerful Language, A Colonizer's Language And A Gift To A Writer. English Has Destroyed And Sucked Up The Languages Of Other Cultures - Its Cruelty Is Its Vitality.

I Feel Myself Becoming Less A Person Than A Place, Inhabited, A Foreign Land.

I Knew Each Person's Delusion, The Places Their Records Had Scratched, Where The Sounds Repeated.