Kenya is a mercurial character. I feel the country has a presence that can turn on its people in a very violent way.

Burma evoked the lost Kenyan soldiers who served in the war. You never hear about them. There were a significant number of casualties, men who never came back home. But they're never commemorated.

The truth, and nothing but the truth, is that dawn begins with a wrestling match with my soul and a systematic rejection of all the other useful possibilities a day offers. I make obeisance to the story, its characters, and the muse with burnt offerings.

Recording stories is a way of honoring the faculty of memory, even if it's recorded, outsourcing memory to technology.

Matters of the subconscious affect reality in ways we don't quite realize.

In my perfect imagination, with stern discipline I rise with the first bird, salute the dawn, have a healthy breakfast of fruits, wander over to my faux-oak desk, tap the On button on my Macbook Air, acknowledge the muse, and skip into the world where the story flows over the day and into the night.

I can edit into infinity. It's such a joy. I'd probably edit until the last word. Until there's only one word left.