I didn't much like it, this grudge-holding against the past.
The cat jumps up on the bed and tries to get onto my head. It's his way of telling whether or not i'm dead. If i'm not, he wants to be scratched; if i am - he'll think of something
To want is to have a weakness.
There's always something to occupy the inquiring mind.
I exist in two places, here and where you are.
If it's a story I'm telling, then I have control over the ending... But if it's a story, even in my head, I must be telling it to someone. You don't tell a story only to yourself. There's always someone else. Even when there is no one.