If your face is swollen from the severe beatings of life, smile and pretend to be a fat man.

I'm really interested in people's decisions.

This is the forked tongue of grief again. It whispers in one ear: return to what you once loved best, and in the other ear it whispers, move on.

What is an adventure? That depends on where you are starting from. Little girls in your country, they hide in the gap between the washing machine and the refrigerator and they make believe they are in the jungle, with green snakes and monkeys all around them. Me and my sister, we used to hide in a gap in the jungle, with green snakes and monkeys all around us, and make believe that we had a washing machine and a refrigerator. You live in a world of machines and you dream off things with beating hearts. We dream of machines, because we see where beating hearts have left us.

Sad words are just another beauty. A sad story means, this storyteller is alive

We cannot choose where to start and stop. Our stories are the tellers of us.

That is how we lived, happily and without hope. I was very young then, and I did not miss having a future because I did not know I was entitled to one.