Death Means You Are In The Third

Over The Years, Confusing Fragments, Lost Corners Of Stories, Have A Clearer Meaning When Seen In A New Light, A Different Place.

When I Write My Novels I Don't Really Have A Huge Plan Beforehand; I Don't Have The Whole Plot And Architecture, So The Story Is Sort Of Discovered As I Write It.

He Has Been Disassembled By Her. And If She Has Brought Him To This, What Has He Brought Her To?

Nowadays He Doesn't Think Of His Wife, Though He Knows He Can Turn Around And Evoke Every Move Of Her, Describe Any Aspect Of Her, The Weigh Of Her Wrist On His Heart During The Night.

A Love Story Is Not About Those Who Lost Their Heart But About Those Who Find That Sullen Inhabitant Who, When It Is Stumbled Upon, Means The Body Can Fool No One, Can Fool Nothing—not The Wisdom Of Sleep Or The Habit Of Social Graces. It Is A Consuming Of Oneself And The Past.