In Invisible there's a lot about childhood, the death of the brother and then the relationship between the brother and sister.

It often happens that things are other than what they seem, and you can get yourself into trouble by jumping to conclusions.

I don't think about the stories so much, as the characters themselves. They live on, and they are almost as real as I am.

The only person I knew how to be with now was myself - but I wasn´t really anyone, and I wasn´t really alive. I was just someone who pretended to be alive, a dead mean who spent his days translating a dead man´s book.

I woke up one day and thought: I want to write a book about the history of my body. I could justify talking about my mother because it was in her body that my body began.

"The weird world rolls on..." meaning that through all the ups and downs, all the travails that we go through, all the horrors, all the wars, all the deaths, all the cruelties, there's still something that keeps us wanting to wake up the next morning and go on with our lives - to make children, to fall in love, to continue humanity.

Writing has always had a tactile quality for me. It's a physical experience.