I Opened My Mouth, But Nothing Came

In Life We Sit At The Table And Refuse To Eat, And In Death We Are Eternally Hungry.

For Me, The Most Powerful Way To Write About Something Is Through The Absence Of It. Rather Than Writing About What It Was To Become A New Mother, I Wrote, For Example, A Father Facing Death And Addressing His Estranged Son About The Regrets Of His Relationship.

There Was No One To Call Me To Bed, No One To Demand That The Rhythms Of My Life Operate In A Duet.

Part Of Me Is Made Of Glass, And Also, I Love You.

Sometimes I Thought About Nothing And Sometimes I Thought About My Life. At Least I Made A Living. What Kind Of Living? A Living. It Wasn't Easy. I Found Out How Little Is Unbearable.