The day is refracted, and the next and the one after that, all of them broken up into a hundred juggled segments, each brilliant and self-contained so that the hours are no longer linear but assorted like bright sweets in a jar.

If we had not met, that day, I think I would have imagined you somehow.

Unless I am a part of everything I am nothing.

You have this comet trail of your own lived life, sparks from which arrive in the head all the time, whether you want them or not - life has been lived but it is still all going on, in the mind for better and for worse.

I do like to embed a fictional character firmly in an occupation.

I didn't want it to be a book that made pronouncements.

Getting to know someone else involves curiosity about where they have come from, who they are.