I Suppose In A Way Most Of

Music Still Sort Of Hangs Up There In The Sky For Me As This Thing That Moves Me So Much, But I Can't Really Make It. It's Like A Car I Can't Drive.

I'm A Firm Believer That There Are No Rules In Art. Every Trajectory Is Different.

I Can't Bear The Silent Ringing In My Skull.

So Much Of The Effort That Goes Into Writing Prose For Me Is About Making Sentences That Capture The Music That I'm Hearing In My Head. It Takes A Lot Of Work, Writing, Writing, And Rewriting To Get The Music Exactly The Way You Want It To Be.

To The Resentment That Hides Inside Love, To The Loneliness That Hides Among Companions.