You Live In A Tower That Soars

Clouds Are No Deterrent. Clouds Intensify The Drama, Trap And Shape The Light.

He Wanted Paper And Something To Write With, Some Way To Sustain A Thought, To Place It In The World.

A Dead Afternoon In A Dark Bar Was Not The Worst Of Fates.

If I Were A Writer, How I Would Enjoy Being Told The Novel Is Dead. How Liberating To Work In The Margins, Outside A Central Perception. You Are The Ghoul Of Literature. Lovely.

I Am Not Comfortable With Abstract Writing, Stories That Look Like Essays: You Have To See, I Need To See.