Vintage books, old china, antiques; maybe I love old things so much because I feel impermanent myself.

I hadn't liked him at first. He did sort of grow on you after a while. Like the cosmopolitans. Or maybe because of the cosmopolitans.

You know that thing about Death Be Not Proud? Well, Fear Be Not Proud either. And Fear Be Not Elegant. What Fear be is stumbling, bumbling flight, crashing through brush, slip-sliding on pine needles, sloshing through puddles that are always deeper than you expect.

A pause followed my greeting. Then “We’re watching you ” whispered the voice on the other end. “Yeah? Did you see what I did with my keys? ” Silence. Then dial tone. These younger demons. So easily discouraged.

I want people to react to my work, to think, to question, to challenge, to cry and laugh and feel.

I'm a thirty-something gay man with a dodgy heart. I sell books for a living. Who wants to read about that?

People loved you in the way they knew how - and often it was not the way you knew. Or needed.