Lonely's like any other organism; competitive and resourceful in the struggle to perpetuate itself.
You can't recall someone whose name has worn away.
It was entirely silent and I tried to breathe its peace.
I have written millions of words about contemporary England - in journalism. Why don't I take it as the background for a novel? I may do one day. But the simple answer is that it does not excite the novelistic part of my brain; it does not fire it up.
The past was suddenly rushing in on me in a way I found hard to fight.
He wrote one more paragraph for his own sake, to see what he had to say.