Our mothers always remain the strangest, craziest people we've ever met.
I acquired that drinker's face before I drank. Drink only confirmed it. The space for it existed in me.
a writer is a foreign country
Alcohol is barren. The words a man speaks in the night of drunkenness fade like the darkness itself at the coming of day.
One must talk. That's how it is. One must.
I often think of the image only I can see now, and of which I’ve never spoken. It’s always there, in the same silence, amazing. It’s the only image of myself I like, the only one in which I recognize myself, in which I delight