Once I've Discovered The Story, I Might

What He Would Say, He Cannot Say To This Woman Whose Openness Is Like A Wound, Whose Youth Is Not Mortal Yet. He Cannot Alter What He Loves Most In Her, Her Lack Of Compromise, Where The Romance Of The Poems She Loves Still Sits With Ease In The Real World. Outside These Qualities He Knows There Is No Order In The World.

This Was The Time In Her Life That She Fell Upon Books As The Only Door Out Of Her Cell. They Became Half Her World.

If She Were A Writer She Would Collect Her Pencils And Notebooks And Favourite Cat And Write In Bed. Strangers And Lovers Would Never Get Past The Locked Door.

The Last Three Books Are Much More A Case Of A Moment Of History, What Happened Almost By Accident Or Coincidence, Like Being In The Same Elevator Or Lifeboat.

In Sri Lanka A Well-told Lie Is Worth A Thousand Facts.