Hopefully, I write what I don't know.
For love - I would split open your head and put a candle in behind the eyes.
The pattern of the narrative never of necessity wants to end, it never has to.
What a great thing! To be a writer! Words are something you can carry in your head. You can really 'travel light.'
No matter how wild reality was obviously often being, it was an absolutely secure place, as a tone and intelligence, and a thing happening.
Form is never more than an extension of content.