Autumn finally arrived. And when it did, I came to a decision. Something had to give: I couldn't keep on living like this.

When I start to write, I don't have any plan at all. I just wait for the story to come.

If writing novels is like planting a forest, then writing short stories is more like planting a garden. The two processes complement each other, creating a complete landscape that I treasure. The green foliage of the trees casts a pleasant shade over the earth, and the wind rustles the leaves, which are sometimes dyed a brilliant gold. Meanwhile, in the garden, buds appear on the flowers, and colorful petals attract bees and butterflies, reminding us of the subtle transition from one season to the next.

My point is: in this whole wide world the only person you can depend on is you.

When I'm running I don't have to talk to anybody and don't have to listen to anybody. This is a part of my day I can't do without.

So the fact that I’m me and no one else is one of my greatest assets. Emotional hurt is the price a person has to pay in order to be independent.

At least he never walked.