When I cannot bear outer pressures anymore, I begin to put order in my belongings...As if unable to organize and control my life, I seek to exert this on the world of objects.
it was while helping others to be free that I gained my own freedom.
I stopped loving my father a long time ago. What remained was the slavery to a pattern.
Societies in decline have no use for visionaries.
You live out the confusions until they become clear.
When I don't write, I feel my world shrink. I lose my fire, my color.