It is completely usual for me to get up in the morning, take a look around, and laugh out loud.

There is a strange moment in time, after something horrible happens, when you know it's true, but you haven't told anyone yet.

Our house is like an empty cigarette packet, lying around reminding you what's not in it.

I do my best work if I think about what it is I have to offer.

But I've swallowed my pride before, that's for sure. I'm practically lined with my mistakes on the inside like a bad-wallpapered bathroom.

Now I'm starting to think he wasn't supposed to be my whole life, he was just this doorway to me.

I can think of no honorable answer. Why must some of us deliberate between brands of toothpaste, while others deliberate between damp dirt and bone dust to quiet the fire of an empty stomach lining? There is nothing about the United States I can really explain to this child of another world.