For me, language is a freedom. As soon as you have found the words with which to express something, you are no longer incoherent, you are no longer trapped by your own emotions, by your own experiences; you can describe them, you can tell them, you can bring them out of yourself and give them to somebody else. That is an enormously liberating experience.

I dreamed I was a single moment in a single day. A note struck and vanished. A sounding. A reckoning. Gone.

There’s no story that’s the start of itself.

Like all familiar objects, it had become invisible.

I have no idea what happens next.

As your lover describes you, so you are.

The truth is I am inventing the maybe. I can only make the choices I make, so why torture myself with what I might have done, when all I can handle is what I have done? The Maybe Islands are hostile to human life.