She had always wanted words, she loved them; grew up on them. Words gave her clarity, brought reason, shape.

From this point on, she whispered, we will either find or lose our souls.

How can you smile as though your whole life hasn't capsized

Women want everything of a lover. And too often I would sink below the surface. So armies disappear under sand. And there was her fear of her husband, her belief in her honour, my old desire for self-sufficiency, my disappearances, her suspicions of me, my disbelief that she loved me. The paranoia and claustrophobia of hidden love.

Every night I cut out my heart. But in the morning it was full again

What is interesting and important happens mostly in secret, in places where there is no power.

I often need a limited space. It's like having a house to roam around in and reinvent and have things to happen in, kind of like a French farce. Doors opening, doors closing, new people arriving, and disappearing, and so forth.