I have a strange relationship with time. I'm not aware of it passing.

I like to cook things very slowly.

For about a year, I just didn't know what to do. I did laboring jobs, working in the docks, construction sites.

How can you be a recluse in a house full of children, even if you had the inclination to be, which I don't?

I had a very vivid, almost hallucinatory moment in which I was engaged in a dialogue with my father...

I can't re-examine work I did in the past with pride.

I like things that make you grit your teeth. I like tucking my chin in and sort of leading into the storm. I like that feeling. I like it a lot.