There wasn't a cloud in the sky, no wind, and everything was quiet around us - all we could hear were birds chirping in the woods. The war seemed like something in a faraway land that had nothing to do with us. We sang songs as we hiked up the hill, sometimes imitating the birds we heard. Except for the fact that the war was still going on, it was a perfect morning.

Will you wait for me forever?

Not just beautiful, though--the stars are like the trees in the forest, alive and breathing. And they're watching me.

As a novelist, you could say that I am dreaming while I am awake, and every day I can continue with yesterday's dream. Because it is a dream, there are so many contradictions and I have to adjust them to make the story work. But, in principle, the original dream does not change.

This uneasiness comes over me from time to time, and I feel as if I've somehow been pieced together from two different puzzles.

The facts and techniques or whatever they teach you in class isn't going to be veryuseful in the real world, that's for sure.

Somewhere in his body--perhaps in the marrow of his bones--he would continue to feel her absence.