Childhood is usually identified with fantasy, adventure, and dreaming. But mine didn't offer a lot of hope. I could read my future in my palm. Everything foretold: "You have no future!" A person must be very strong to keep going without hope.

Each language has its own temperament; some languages make a poem more dramatic or sad, and others make it more playful.

Jean-Paul Sartre said that France was freer than ever during the German occupation, when people had no choices but one: to collaborate or to resist. I'm not saying there was something good about that system. But the freest people I've ever met, or knew about, belonged to that period. For example, Musine Kokalari, an Albanian writer who dared to fight for political pluralism and free elections. She created the first social democratic party, despite knowing the high price she would have to pay.

In my family there was no small talk, only talk about serious things like global politics - trying to interpret the distant political signs, looking desperately for some hope things would change. Religion was forbidden beginning in 1968, when I was born. So my communication with them was limited to issues of everyday life, which were issues of survival.

Years ago, I thought that if a person had experienced injustice in her life, it meant she would be fair, because she would know what it meant to be a victim of injustice. But now I am not so sure. Experiencing injustice can also make a person dangerous. Carrying a sense of revenge and anger can make a person victimize their own self.

I come from a culture that was isolated for a long time - I have my own story to tell, in my own style, and an aesthetic approach that was mostly self-taught. So, does it fit a reader's curiosity? Will it meet their expectations?

We usually understand freedom as meaning that there are many choices - but does having more choices, or believing we do, actually make us more free?