I Tend Not To Know What The

How We Are Almost Nothing. We Think, In Our Youth, We Are The Centre Of The Universe, But We Simply Respond, Go This Way Or That By Accident, Survive Or Improve By The Luck Of The Draw, With Little Choice Or Determination On Our Part.

I See Myself As Someone Who's Been Saved By Writing. God Knows What I Would Have Been, Become Or How I Would Have Ended Up Without It.

Meanwhile With The Help Of An Anecdote I Fell In Love. Words Caravaggio. They Have A Power.

I Think Precision In Writing Goes Hand In Hand With Not Trying To Say Everything. You Try And Say Two-thirds, So The Reader Will Involve Himself Or Herself.

We Die Containing A Richness Of Lovers And Tribes, Tastes We Have Swallowed, Bodies We Have Plunged Into And Swum Up As If Rivers Of Wisdom, Characters We Have Climbed Into As If Trees, Fears We Have Hidden In As If Caves. I Wish For All This To Be Marked On By Body When I Am Dead. I Believe In Such Cartography - To Be Marked By Nature, Not Just To Label Ourselves On A Map Like The Names Of Rich Men And Women On Buildings. We Are Communal Histories, Communal Books. We Are Not Owned Or Monogamous In Our Taste Or Experience.