I Think Everybody Has A Secret Life.

Places Have Their Own Characters. . . . But The People Begin To Look The Same.

I Sell Dreams, Small Comforts, Sweet Harmless Temptations To Bring Down A Multitude Of Saints Crashing Among The Hazels And Nougatines

And So Nat Stood Up And Joined The Group, And Followed, And Watched, And Awaited His Chance As The Light Of Chaos Lit The Plain And Gods And Demons Marched To War.

Their Love Was Something Which Coloured The Air Between Them Like Sunlight.

One Of The Things That Writing Has Taught Me Is That Fiction Has A Life Of Its Own. Fictional Places Are Sometimes More Real Than The View From Our Bedroom Window. Fictional People Can Sometimes Become As Close To Us As Our Loved Ones.