The Details Of The World In Which

The War Came To Me In My Dreams And Showed Me Its Sole Purpose: To Go On, Only To Go On.

Poetry And Prose Are Of Equal Importance To Me As A Reader, And There Doesn't Seem To Be Much Difference In My Own Writing.

The Details Of The World In Which We Live Are Always Secondary To The Fact That We Must Live In Them.

It's Not Just: You Get Off The Plane, You're Back Home, Everything's Fine. Maybe The Physical Danger Ends, But Soldiers Are Still Deeply At Risk Of Being Injured In A Different Way.

Writing Was Always An Aspiration, But I'd Kept It A Secret Even From Myself.