In the last war, people became vocal from the right-wing point of view: if you're liberal, then you're a traitor.

His whole body was completely still, except the wings, which were still fluttering a little, like when someone dies. That's when he finally understood that of all the things the angel had told him, nothing was true. That he wasn't even an angel, just a liar with wings.

My stories are very compact. I want them to say the most complex things in the simplest way.

The reason I write is that I'm not in dialogue with my emotions; writing puts me in touch with myself.

Life keeps being a beautiful and frustrating experience.

My first and biggest love was always fiction writing. But it is a very lonely pastime.

I tried once in my life to write a novel. I had written something like 80 pages of it when my laptop got stolen. When I told people this, they acted as if something tragic had happened, but I kind of felt relieved, grateful to the thief who saved me from another year of something that felt more like homework than fun.