I think heterosexuality and homosexuality are a kind of psychosis, and the truth is somewhere in the middle.

Are we all living like this? Two lives, the ideal outer life and the inner imaginative life where we keep our secrets?

There are voices and they must be heard.

Slightest accidents open up new worlds.

What is it that you contain? The Dead. Time. Light patterns of millennia. The expanding universe opening in your gut. Are your twenty-three feet of intestines loaded with stars?

Part fact part fiction is what life is. And it is always a cover story. I wrote my way out.

Of course that is not the whole story, but that is the way with stories; we make them what we will. It's a way of explaining the universe while leaving the universe unexplained, it's a way of keeping it all alive, not boxing it into time.