The fact of storytelling hints at a fundamental human unease, hints at human imperfection. Where there is perfection there is no story to tell.

We have not yet arrived, but every point at which we stop requires a re-definition of our destination.

The strange thing about Africa is how past, present and future come together in a kind of rough jazz, if you like.

The most authentic thing about us is our capacity to create, to overcome, to endure, to transform, to love and to be greater than our suffering.

It may be that what you could be haunts you. It is real. It is a weight you have to carry around. Each failure to become, to be, is a weight. Each state you could inhabit is a burden as heavy as any physical weight, but more so, because it weighs on your soul. It is the ghost of your possibilities hanging around your neck, an invisible albatros, potentials unknowingly murdered.

To anyone who is homeless, I say, find a home.

Don't read what everyone else is reading. Check them out later, cautiously.