Memory Narrativises Itself.

If You Find Yourself As A Person In Unfamiliar Territory, You Will Grasp On To What Is Already Familiar.

I Loved You Because There Was No Other Place For Me To Go. We Were Married Because We Did Not Know What Else To Do With Each Other. You Never Knew Me, Nothing About Me, What Died Inside Me, What Lived Invisibly.

Lord, Why Did You Leave Me In These Woods?

A Particular Piece Of Music Attaches Itself To The Piece I'm Writing, And There Is Nothing Else I Can Listen To. Every Day I Return To The Same Space To Write, The Music Providing Both The Walls And The Pictures On The Walls.

Politics Is About Ethics And Morality, Openly Or Not Openly.