I’ve dreamed a lot. I’m tired now from dreaming but not tired of dreaming. No one tires of dreaming, because to dream is to forget, and forgetting does not weigh on us, it is a dreamless sleep throughout which we remain awake. In dreams I have achieved everything.

I enjoy wording. Words for me are tangible bodies, visible sirens, incarnate sensualities.

I carry my awareness of defeat like a banner of victory.

If I write what I feel, it's to reduce the fever of feeling. What I confess is unimportant, because everything is unimportant.

To kill our dream life would be to kill ourselves, to mutilate our soul. Dreaming is the one thing we have that's really ours, invulnerably and inalterably ours.

There are no norms. All people are exceptions to a rule that doesn’t exist.

At first I felt dizzy - not with the kind of dizziness that makes the body reel but the kind that's like a dead emptiness in the brain, an instinctive awareness of the void.