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.

Men had always been the reciters of poetry in the desert.

A postcard. Neat handwriting fills the rectangle. Half my days I cannot bear to touch you. The rest of my time I feel like it doesn’t matter if I will ever see you again. It isn’t the morality, it’s how much you can bear. No date. No name attached.

Love is the use one makes of another.

I'm a Canadian citizen. But I always want to feel at home in Sri Lanka. I'm a member of both countries.

There was a time when mapmakers named the places they travelled through with the names of lovers rather than their own.

Half a page--and the morning is already ancient.