I found myself compelled, like this weird, shameful compulsion to draw cute animals.

I used to live a very social life and never spend much solitary time looking at birds or reading.

What is an idea made of? Of future, past and also meanwhile.

are memories pictures or the secret doorway?

A man who has been dead for a week in a hot trailer looks more like a man than you would first expect.

This ability to exist in pieces is what some adults call resilience. And I suppose in some way it is a kind of resilience, a horrible resilience that makes adults believe children forget trauma.

Then how can you ever know about the beautiful goodness of Mud? How bad it wants to be things. How bad it wants to get on your legs and arms and take your footprints and handprints and how bad it wants you to make it alive! Mud is always ready to play with you. Seriously you should try it!