The moon in all her immaculate purity hung in the sky, laughing at this world of dust. She congratulated me for my carefully considered maneuvers and invited me to share in her eternal solitude.

I would like to be a philosopher in ancient Athens and a poet in ancient China.

Years have passed and how I am anxiously watching the twilight of my childhood, quietly sinking, never to rise again.

I talk to trees and animals. We have interesting conversations about food, weather, and love. They sometimes can predict the future.

To other women the choice of clothes was a form of ingenious exhibition, a shameless seduction. To me, dresses were like a breastplate that I put on to set off to war against this life.

Out on the street I start to run; I need to breathe in this life, the trees, the warmth of my town. I will be able to control my own fate and I will know how to be happy. Happiness is something you lay siege to, it is a battle . . .

Happiness is something you lay siege to, it is a battle like a game of go. I will take hold of all the pain and snuff it out.