Society is like this card game here, cousin. We got dealt our hand before we were even born, and as we grow we have to play as best as we can.

I feel myself becoming less a person than a place, inhabited, a foreign land.

There will never come a time when I will be able to resist my emotions.

I spend most of my time writing.

I make very involved drawings, even little structures, and try using design to figure out the rhythm of a plot. If there are several narrators then a clue has to pop up in the first line. There have to be certain grammatical clues, or distinctive names.

Her mind was present because she was always gone. Her hands were filled because they grasped the meaning of empty. Life was simple. Her husband returned and she served him with indifferent patience this time. When he asked what had happened to her heat for him, she gestured to the west. The sun was setting. The sky was a body of fire.

Right and wrong were shades of meaning, not sides of a coin.