Why does one always ask a writer why they stopped? I am sure everyone finds in any drawer a few dear poems.
I wanted to write a novel. At 12 I knew, I am a writer. I said it to nobody.
I was convinced that the world was in the departure and paging.
It is strange, how quickly people want to obligate their poets, as it were, on the exile.
Writers let themselves be enticed by the language.
Literature is about as unnecessarily necessarily as tableware or ironed shirts.