Hope Is A Contraband Passed From Hand

I Wanted To Write About Looking At The World, So It's More About Helping People, Or Persuading People, To See What Is Around Us; Both The Marvellous And The Terrible.

Emigration, Forced Or Chosen, Across National Frontiers Or From Village To Metropolis, Is The Quintessential Experience Of Our Time.

The Past Grows Gradually Around One, Like A Placenta For Dying.

To Be Naked Is To Be Oneself.

We Can Become Anything. That Is Why Injustice Is Impossible Here. There May Be The Accident Of Birth, There Is No Accident Of Death. Nothing Forces Us To Remain What We Were.