One night a friend lent me a book of short stories by Franz Kafka. I went back to the pension where I was staying and began to read The Metamorphosis. The first line almost knocked me off the bed. I was so surprised. The first line reads, “As Gregor Samsa awoke that morning from uneasy dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect. . . .” When I read the line I thought to myself that I didn’t know anyone was allowed to write things like that. If I had known, I would have started writing a long time ago. So I immediately started writing short stories.

Caribbean reality resembles the wildest imagination.

A man should have two wives: one to love and one to sew on his buttons.

The world was reduced to the surface of her skin and her inner self was safe from all bitterness.

One could be happy not only without love, but despite it.

Time was not passing...it was turning in a circle.

The anxiety of falling in love could not find repose except in bed.