The world was quickly forgetting us. And there was little news to report.

I can't describe the feeling when I go down - it's down down down and there's never going to be an up again. And whatever was good isn't good any more; white becomes grey, music becomes dictionaries, honey becomes beer and the sky a curdled lemon. There's no caramel anymore.

So I found myself telling my own stories. It was strange: as I did it I realised how much we get shaped by our stories. It's like the stories of our lives make us the people we are. If someone had no stories, they wouldn't be human, wouldn't exist. And if my stories had been different I wouldn't be the person I am.

Sometimes I got worried that my memory was falling apart.

We believed we were safe. That was the big fantasy.

Sometimes I think I'd rather be frightened than bored. At least when you're frightened you know you're alive.

the biggest risk is to take no risk. or to take crazy risks.