Come Back, Come Back To Me

Politics Is The Enemy Of The Imagination.

I Want To Live In A Place Where Strangers Rush To Help Someone In Distress.

Oblivion Seemed The Only Reasonable Option.

We Know So Little About Each Other. We Lie Mostly Submerged, Like Ice Floes, With Our Visible Social Selves Projecting Only Cool And White.

There Was, In My View, An Unwritten Contract With The Reader That The Writer Must Honour. No Single Element Of An Imagined World Or Any Of Its Characters Should Be Allowed To Dissolve On An Authorial Whim. The Invented Had To Be As Solid And As Self-consistent As The Actual. This Was A Contract Founded On Mutual Trust.