In Japan they prefer the realistic style. They like answers and conclusions, but my stories have none. I want to leave them wide open to every possibility. I think my readers understand that openness.

Everything, everything seemed once-upon-a-time.

The power to concentrate was the most important thing. Living without this power would be like opening one’s eyes without seeing anything.

The grounds of the place were dominated by several large, old willow trees that towered over the surrounding stone wall and swayed soundlessly in the wind like lost souls.

I don’t know, I don’t feel right unless I’ve got the sea and mountains nearby. People are mostly a product of where they were born and raised. How you think and feel’s always linked to the lay of the land, the temperature. The prevailing winds, even.

All imperfections are forced upon the imperfect, so the 'perfect' can live content and oblivious.

I'm all alone, but I'm not lonely.