How Does This Happen? To Fall In

It Doubles Your Perception, To Write From The Point Of View Of Someone You're Not.

All I Desired Was To Walk Upon Such An Earth That Had No Maps.

I Love The Performance Of A Craft, Whether It Is Modest Or Mean-spirited, Yet I Walk Away When Discussions Of It Begin - As If One Should Ask A Gravedigger What Brand Of Shovel He Uses Or Whether He Prefers To Work At Noon Or In Moonlight. I Am Interested Only In The Care Taken, And Those Secret Rehearsals Behind It. Even If I Do Not Understand Fully What Is Taking Place.

So The Books For The Englishman, As He Listened Intently Or Not, Had Gaps Of Plot Like Sections Of A Road Washed Out By Storms, Missing Incidents As If Locusts Had Consumed A Section Of Tapestry, As If Plaster Loosened By The Bombing Had Fallen Away From A Mural At Night.

So We Came To Understand That Small And Important Thing, That Our Lives Could Be Large With Interesting Strangers Who Would Pass Us Without Any Personal Involvement.